#and whatever happened in there only the moon and the sea know

[chosok-amo]

hi I see you want a request! hb some angst to comfort !drunkgojoxreader where he always shows up drunk confessing his feelings but then acts normal when he’s sobered up. Reader is tired of mixed signals and ends up going on a date with someone when gojo happens to visit sobered up

you can do whatever you want if u happen to be inspired! Hope this helps you get out of your funk

“OH, MY LOVER IS DRUNK” : GOJO SATORU

you and him, you were supposed to be best friends— supposed to. but neither you nor gojo can't keep the feeling of falling. he tries to deny the feeling so hard that he has to drown himself with alcohol, the thing he loves the least, just to forget the feeling, only to come back to you every time he is drunk.

w/c 4.5k

warning : drunk! gojo satoru, non-sorcerer gojo!, angst.

p.s thank you for giving me a chance to write you something, and I'm sorry it took me long enough to write this :'), but i hope you enjoy it! (i don't think i make this angst enough for my liking)

fanart credit to the owner.

it was a tranquil night, the moon casting a soft, ethereal glow through your apartment windows, bathing the room in a gentle light. though the clock read 3:00 AM, sleep eluded you, your mind too restless to find peace. lying on your cold bed, you stared at the ceiling, each pattern and shadow playing tricks on your eyes in the dim light. the blanket was draped neatly up to your stomach, its weight a comforting presence against the chill of the night.

your hands lay flat on top of the blanket, fingers nervously tapping the back of the other hand in a slow, rhythmic cadence. the silence of the night seemed to amplify every tiny sound: the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment, the almost imperceptible hum of the city outside. despite the stillness, a storm of thoughts churned within you, each one keeping you wide awake and alert, as if anticipating something just beyond the horizon.

you were anticipating something, no— more likely, someone. that someone, neither your boyfriend nor your anything, he just likely is a more sinister thing, disguised as a best friend, unfortunately. sinister thing, you describe him, where a silver thread lies between you and him— a bright and bold, tale of your love, gojo satoru.

he is, my sinister thing’ you thought.

you were adrift, suspended in the air, with no destination, no specific place to call home. you existed in a state of limbo, neither firmly standing nor lying down, hovering in a liminal space. your presence was neither filled with love nor marked by the experience of being in love.

you were perpetually caught in a paradox, always existing in a state of “neither,” but never fully reaching a place of clarity or resolution. your existence was defined by an absence of definitive states or emotions, perpetually undefined and drifting, forever caught between the edges of presence and absence.

it was always waiting, waiting, and waiting.

just like how the night before, and before, and right now, waiting in your bed for him to knock— and when he does, you, mindlessly, like you're in ecstasy running a little by little in the middle of the night to open your door, without realizing there's another door you open— your heart.

stumbling, drowning in a sea of alcohol he hates, gojo satoru walks in. and you, like the idiot you are, guide him to your barely-fits-for-his-over-six-feet -ass couch, comfortably lying him there.

“careful,” you whisper through the night.

your warm hands meet with his cold ones, gripping you as if he's holding on for his dear life. you drape his body with a blanket, big enough for you to shield not only his physical form but also the emotions he holds for you, hidden beneath the warmth, hide his love for you, not that you need to know. gojo‘s blue eyes are warm, and dull as they indulge softly in the moonlight and gentle glow from your little lamp on the cover of your living room, appear soft and subdued.

you find yourself seated on the cold, hard floor, while gojo stretches out on your couch, facing you with a look of serene contentment. his handsome face is illuminated by a crooked yet mesmerizing smile, a testament to his charm even in his inebriated state. his hands, chilled and seeking, grip yours with a familiar desperation, yearning for the warmth you effortlessly provide.

this nightly ritual has become a part of your routine—gojo, drinking away his soul, stumbles through your door, his steps wavering yet purposeful. he collapses onto the couch, and you remain on the floor, the quiet observer of his vulnerable confessions. as he speaks of his love for you with a fervor that seems to swell with each passing moment, it’s as if he fears losing you with the break of dawn.

he loves like you’re the very essence of his existence, the heartbeat of his every moment. his affection is a force that shapes his world, a flame that burns eternally in his soul. to him, you are the embodiment of all his dreams and desires, the one who makes every day brighter and every night more meaningful. his love for you is not just a feeling but a profound truth that defines his very being.

when the alcohol fades and his clarity returns, he resumes his usual demeanor, leaving behind only the tender echo of his heartfelt declarations and the gentle imprint of his touch on your hands. he pretends, gojo satoru likes to pretend.

“always so beautiful,” he whispered, his smile fading as his eyes wandered over every contour of your face. he traced the delicate path of each freckle, every mole, and the subtle lines that marked the passage of time, memorizing every exquisite detail in his heart. his cold hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a chill across your skin that mingled with the warmth of his gaze, as if he were imprinting the essence of your beauty into his soul.

he draws your entwined hands closer to his chest, where his heart, in truth, has always belonged to you. from the very first moment you met, it was never his alone; it has been yours from the start. as your palm rests against his chest, you can feel the soft, steady beat of his yours heart, buried beneath his flesh—an intimate rhythm that pulses with calm and a tender, unselfish devotion.

a small smile graces your lips as you rest your chin on the couch, gazing deeply into his eyes and letting yourself be enveloped by their depth. “i’m in love with you,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with intoxicated. “so in love that i can’t remember a time when i wasn’t, as if my soul has adored you since the dawn of everything,” you listen to his heartfelt confession, witnessing the gradual collapse of his defenses, and your eyes shimmer, heart-shaped.

gojo chuckled softly, his voice thick with intoxication. “do you recall the first and last time we made love? your lips on my neck, since that day, your mouth has been nothing but heaven,” his words tumbled out in a drowsy, slurred cadence.

you, too, remember that day with crystal clarity; it is etched deeply in your mind, an indelible memory that clings to your thoughts like a cherished, haunting presence. each detail, every sensation, has become a permanent part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being. the memory of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss linger, a profound and enduring echo that remains with you always.

you still can feel his touch on your skin.

“of course you don’t know,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of intoxication, as his thumb traced gentle patterns across your cheek. “and i’ll gladly take the blame for that,” he continued, his words slurred with inebriation, “i-i kissed your hair while you slept in the morning,” his giggle, light and childlike, bubbled up with a carefree delight. “i wonder if you ever knew.”

you shake your head gently, a small, small smile touching your lips, just a little. you wouldn't dare to open your mouth, oh, you wouldn't dare. to speak would risk breaking the spell of his drunken state, causing him to sober up and retract the love he has so freely and vulnerably shared. the thought of him withdrawing those tender confessions and retreating into the safety of his guarded heart is a fear too profound to bear. because at that time, it's all you have, his drunkenly confession.

so you remain silent, savoring the warmth of his affection as it envelops you, clinging to this fleeting intimacy as if it were a precious secret. afraid that when the dawn’s approach looms, threatening to sweep away the ephemeral beauty of his heartfelt revelations, leaving only the ghost of his love behind.

it's a frightening, haunting, spine-chilling sensation that grips you, filling you with an aching dread, so you remain silent. because maybe, in those three am confessions are your only salvation. just like a dark mirror to cinderella’s tale, your reality is sinking down from the ceiling, swallowing you whole when he sobers up when the sun hits your cheeks warm.

“oh, god, i love you so much. . .” he whispered, his voice laden with vulnerability as he clutched your hand tightly, pressing it against his chest. “this love i feel—it terrifies me. i'm scared for the love i have for you, it seems so powerful, like it could burn me alive or utterly ruin me. even so, i know that i’ll let it be, but fuck. . . i'm so scared.” his breath was uneven and strained, each gasp revealing the depth of his fear.

his eyes, gleaming with the weight of his emotions, flickered with a poignant brilliance before finally closing. as he drifted into unconsciousness, the full embrace of the alcohol took hold, and the tender confessions of his heart were swallowed by the enveloping darkness.

you remain in quiet contemplation, letting his heartfelt words gently seep into your thoughts. you extend your arm along the edge of the couch, laying your cheek softly against it as you gaze at gojo’s tranquil, slumbering face. his lips, tender and slightly swollen, and his cheeks, flushed a soft, rosy hue reminiscent of crushed cherries from the effects of the alcohol, form a serene portrait of vulnerability.

in the gentle light, his features are softened by the peacefulness of sleep, creating a stark contrast to the emotional intensity of his earlier confessions. the calmness of his face, so vulnerable and exposed in repose, contrasts beautifully with the passionate turmoil of his words.

as you watch him, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping you both in a tender silence that honors the depth of the moment. the delicate interplay of light and shadow highlights the serene beauty of his sleep, allowing you to cherish the profound intimacy of this quiet, shared space.

when the morning comes, he'll sober up, and the alcohol will have faded from his system, washed away by the sunlight along with his love for you. he'll blame the alcohol in case he said anything foolish, and you? oh, you would find yourself blaming the moon, even the sun, because it's breath away the day for night to come, for casting hope into your soul, into your heart, and also crushing it at the same time in the harsh light of dawn. leaving you to grapple with the fragile hope that was both a blessing and a burden.

it was cruel, worse than cannibalism. you could have borne the agony of having your flesh consumed, but not the ravaging of your soul and heart, oh please, not my heart’ you would plead into the darkness as night falls. you were scared too, not because of loving gojo satoru, loving him is as natural as breathing, but because of the depth of your devotion— you are scared your devotion would turn violent. your devotion would make you believe him like a god, and he'll betray you like a man.

yet, despite the pain, you find yourself eternally awaiting the arrival of night, longing for those confessions whispered at 3:00 AM, even knowing they will leave you shattered by morning’s light. each dawn brings the same heartache, and today is no different.

you awaken to the insistent chime of your notification, your eyes fluttering open to the stark emptiness of your apartment. the couch where gojo once lay is now vacant, the space where he slept cold and unwelcoming. the blanket he used before now wrapped around you, carries no trace of his warmth. the comfort it once offered has dissipated, leaving behind only a hollow chill and the echo of his absence.

your grip tightens on your phone, the pressure biting into your hands, but it’s a mere shadow of the pain coursing through your heart. suddenly, the dam within you gives way, and a torrent of tears spills down your cheeks, cascading like a relentless river. the exhaustion of navigating gojo’s endless emotional games weighs heavily upon you, a suffocating burden that leaves you breathless.

you don't want anything, the only thing you want can't be bought with money. if i ask for your heart will you give it to me?’ you mock yourself. what a fucking loser.

“oh god. . .” you whisper, forehead touching the floor as you wailing in silence.

you feel foolish for clinging to the hope that, perhaps this time, he might remember, that he might repeat the tender words of the night before. yet, as each morning dawns with the same emptiness, your heart aches with the weary realization that your hopes have been in vain, leaving you to grapple with the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams.

the evening was settling into a serene quiet, your apartment softly illuminated by the warm glow of your lights. you were almost ready for your date, anticipation mingling with a sense of hope as you made final adjustments to your outfit. watching yourself in the mirror, you realize how dull your eyes are, losing their spark. after everything, you decided to bury your feelings beneath your flesh until only you know your love for gojo satoru.

a knock at the door disrupted your preparations, and when you opened it, gojo stood there, sober and uncharacteristically subdued. his eyes, usually brimming with playful energy, now reflected a deep, almost mournful sadness.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer just like always. he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the subtle details of your evening preparations—the carefully chosen attire, the delicate scent of perfume, and your eyes, those bright, beautiful eyes.

you moved through your bedroom, selecting accessories and adjusting your outfit, each motion a quiet ritual in the evening’s anticipation. gojo watched from the doorway, his gaze fixed on you with a deep, almost reverent intensity. his silence spoke volumes, a contrast to the usual banter that characterized your interactions.

gojo’s voice, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability, broke the silence. “where are you going?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and hurt.

you hesitated, caught between the desire to protect both his feelings and the truth. his gaze, usually so playful and intense, now bore a raw, wounded quality. the gravity of the question hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the weight of the decision you had to make.

“i’m—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. you could see the hope flickering in his eyes, mingled with the pain of realization. you knew that this was more than just a casual question; it was a plea for understanding, for clarity amid his confusion.

he took a step closer, his usual nonchalance replaced by a genuine yearning to grasp the reality of the situation. “i just want to know,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “where you’re going. what’s tonight for you?”

you looked at him, your heart aching with the weight of his unspoken fears. the room felt charged with the intensity of the moment, every detail amplified by the quiet desperation in his voice.

“i’m going out with someone,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “tonight is… it’s meant for someone else.”

the words hung in the air, their impact palpable. gojo’s face fell, the light in his eyes dimming as he took in the truth of your plans. he nodded slowly, the understanding settling over him with a heavy sadness.

“i see,” he said quietly, a bitter edge to his tone as he took a step back, giving you space. “i didn’t realize…” the finality of his words and the desolate look on his face were almost too much to bear.

you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but before you could answer, his gaze wandered over you with a mixture of admiration and sadness. “you look…” he started, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “you look really beautiful tonight.”

his eyes roamed over your outfit, the careful details you had chosen, and the way the light caught in your hair. there was a softness in his gaze that spoke of more than just physical appreciation— it was as though he was trying to hold onto every fleeting moment, every detail of this evening as if to etch it into his memory.

“you always look beautiful,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “but tonight. . .. tonight it’s different. you’re. . . breathtaking.” the sincerity in his words was palpable, mingling with the unspoken sadness in his eyes. he didn’t move, didn’t retreat from the moment. instead, he stood there, quietly observing, letting his admiration and affection fill the space between you.

“i didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving you. “i just wanted to see you one more time. before you go.”

the room felt heavy with the weight of his gaze, the emotional intensity of his words. you could feel the ache in his eyes, a mixture of admiration and longing, as he took in every detail of your appearance. the compliment, so genuine and heartfelt, seemed to hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the affection he still held for you.

“it's okay,” you nodded softly, gazing at him from your mirror with a little smile, kissing your lips. the date was meant to be an escape, a chance to move forward, but it felt like an endurance exercise.

your date was polite and engaged in conversation, but there was an undeniable disconnect. every word spoken seemed to drift past you, a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed your mind. the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the casual chatter all felt hollow, lacking the vibrancy you had hoped for.

as the evening progressed, the sparkle of the city lights and the charm of the venue did little to lift the weight on your shoulders. the conversations felt superficial, the moments fleeting and unremarkable. you smiled and nodded in response, but your thoughts were miles away, tangled in the memories and the lingering presence of gojo.

you couldn’t help but replay the images of that earlier moment—gojo’s earnest eyes, the softness of his compliments, and the way his gaze had followed you with such unspoken longing. his presence had imprinted on your heart so deeply that everything else seemed to fade in comparison. the way he had watched you, the tenderness in his voice, and the painful silence after he had left all resurfaced in your mind, casting a shadow over every interaction of the evening.

the date dragged on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. you forced yourself to remain engaged, but the thought of gojo’s unspoken words and the gentle way he had looked at you overshadowed everything. you were caught in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to escape the grip of your own emotions.

as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the evening. your mind was still heavy with the weight of the date's emptiness, and the city lights seemed dimmer as you walked towards your car.

just outside, by the entrance of the restaurant, you noticed a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. gojo stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the crowd with a determined focus. as your gaze met his, his face softened, revealing a mix of relief and something deeper.

there you are, beautiful, mellow you. walking alone looking pretty in that silk dress that you should be wearing for him, not the other man, him. seeing you so breathtakingly beautiful makes gojo satoru want to crash into every piece of you, and fuck, he swears to god, that's how stars are born.

“hey,” he said softly, pushing himself off the lamppost and walking towards you. the usually playful tone in his voice was replaced by a sincere warmth. “i thought i might catch you before you left.” you stopped in your tracks, a flutter of surprise and emotion rising within you. “satoru, what are you doing here?”

you're in front of him, eyes glimmering under the lamppost and the moon. gojo wants to run, to bury himself under the ground, or just tell you to stop looking at him with those eyes. stop touching me with your eyes’ he thought.

“i-i. . .”

even so, his eyes never leave yours, shaken as he tries to swim into your orbs. how its color slightly changes under the lamppost makes it even harder for gojo to speak as if the ground is a new language for him, and suddenly, he forgets everything he knows about gravity.

“please love me. .” he whispered, throat dry.

for a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes widened in astonishment. your heart is pounded with a frantic rhythm, faster than the fall of distant stars, yearning to escape its confines and find its way into gojo’s hands. it ached with a longing so intense that it felt almost unbearable.

the pain of desiring something so profoundly—something you’ve never truly known—made you question why your heart should yearn for a home it has never experienced. yet, despite never having been there, it cried out with an ineffable need to be held by him.

it was always his and never been yours since day one, but he already holds onto your soul with an unrelenting grip and your heart— your only refuge, is all you ever had to keep living. you can't live your life if all you ever had is just merely flesh and bone.

“satoru, are you drunk?”

“no—” he shook his head, fast enough to hold both your hands and bring them closer against his chest, where his heart was beating faster, also begging to be handed to you. “i'm in love with you, y/n. i'm sorry i always pretend like i don't remember in the morning, but please. . . i don't dare to, maybe if i love you less it would be easier for me to talk, but fuck—”

he paused for a moment, and in that suspended breath, your only fear was the possibility of him retracting his heartfelt confession. the weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, and you found yourself dreading the loss of such a precious revelation. the thought of him pulling back, of his feelings fading into silence, was the only shadow that cast fear over your heart.

so you shook your head, “no, don't stop,” you plea.

gojo swallows his pride, he feels pathetic. but he would bear the life long of feeling pathetic if it is meant to have your eyes on him, to have your skins and bones knit with his then so be it. “i love you—oh god, i fucking love you, in the purest, chaste, most victorian sense,” he says, laughing softly. “even a mere glimpse of your ankle might be enough to drive me mad.” you can’t help but chuckle along with him.

his hands enveloped yours with a desperate intensity, holding them as if they were the very essence of his longing. “i love you,” he breathed softly, his voice mingling with the whisper of the night breeze. “i want every single one of your tomorrows.”

he guided your hands closer to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your wrist, his touch both tender and reverent. his eyes locked with yours, revealing a depth of emotion that seemed to illuminate the darkness around you. the moment his lips left your skin, the faintest trace of coldness lingered, as if the warmth of his affection had left an indelible mark.

with a gentle but purposeful motion, his hands slid to your waist, drawing you nearer. his touch was both firm and delicate as he turned you around, guiding you until your back was nearly pressed against the lamppost. the soft glow of the streetlight bathed you both in a halo of light, casting long shadows and highlighting the closeness of your bodies.

in this intimate cocoon, the world seemed to fade away. the chill of the night, the warmth of his breath, and the quiet intensity of his gaze created a fragile moment of connection. his presence enveloped you, a promise whispered in the night air, as if he were claiming every future moment with you, even as the night deepened around you.

“please. . ..” he beg.

he leaned in, his face inches from yours, until his lips lightly brushed against your own. “please, love me,” he whispered once more, his voice tender and pleading. his warm breath caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

the proximity of his lips, the softness of his words, and the gentle warmth of his breath all combined to create a moment of intimate vulnerability. his plea hung in the air, laden with the depth of his emotions, as he sought to bridge the gap between your hearts.

as the world around you seemed to slow, gojo’s gaze lingered on your lips with an intensity that made your heart race. his fingers, still resting on your waist, drew you even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. the soft glow of the streetlight cast a gentle halo around the two of you, accentuating the intimacy of the moment.

with a deliberate tenderness, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation built like a quiet storm as his lips inched closer, brushing against yours with a delicate, almost reverent touch. the kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration that spoke of deep longing and unspoken desires.

his lips moved with a slow, deliberate grace as if savoring every second of the connection. the initial softness gave way to a deeper intensity, his kiss growing more passionate as he pulled you even closer. the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his lips pressed firmly against yours. his hands cradled your face, his touch gentle yet insistent, guiding the kiss with a blend of affection and need.

the warmth of his kiss seemed to infuse every part of you, a melding of hearts and souls that transcended words. when he finally pulled away, his eyes still locked onto yours, there was a look of profound contentment and vulnerability. the kiss lingered in the air between you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the fragile, beautiful connection that bound you together.

as you slowly pull away from the kiss, your lips linger near his, you meet his gaze with a fierce resolve. “if you ever mock me or play with me,” you say, your voice steady yet charged with intensity, “i swear to god, satoru, i’ll fucking hunt you down.” the words hang between you, your breath mingling with his, a silent promise of the depth of your commitment.

gojo’s eyes spark with a playful glint as he hears your words. with a mischievous smile, he leans in, giving your lips a series of soft, teasing pecks. “i won’t,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “i promise.” his playful demeanor contrasts with the intensity of your threat, yet his gentle touches and warm gaze convey a deeper assurance.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

[leascorner]

j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing:  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[potteraep]

Can you do one where the guys find out thier s/o is a mermaid or siren pls.

WATERS GAZE!

ᡣ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷━ showing..! Xiao, Scaramouche, heizou and Kazuha w/ siren reader (seperate) - I barely remembered this now sorry.. also I wasn’t sure who u meant but I hope u mean these guys !

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ADEPTUS XIAO

— xiao was never one to know much about love nor emotions mortals felt for that matter so imagine his surprise when he fell in love with you

and his shock when he realized you were a siren.

—- “qingxin?” Xiao had called as he tried to find your face among the bright liyue lights, xiao had looked thru all of Liyue for you tho he couldn’t

he tried his luck at the harbor which was currently quite with one last ship leaving the harbor

xiao took quick steps around on the harbor his mind starting to fill with worry in a trance of soft guilt if anything had happened to you

soft sounds of water hitting were nothing unusual at the harbor expecially when it was the only sound at night

Except it wasn’t all he heard, it was more of a background noise what he hers was singing.

he followed the sound that wasn’t far in a flash he was a green aura that appeared near the singing

he was ready to slay whatever he heard or leave it alone if it was just a person

But xiao had seen a human torso. And a green with hues of blue tail that seemed to glisten in the moon light the skin around the persons hands had small green marks their nails sharp and tips of their fingers black

he stepped closer slowly his spear in his hand but when he was in range his breathe hitched and he almost dropped his spear

“Y/n?” He called with a hoarse voice and a look of confusion on his face

you turned swiftly a look of horror on your face “xiao?” You said while backing into the water your torso the only thing he can see as your eyes narrowed with a soft but aware look

“wait y/n-!” He called taking abrupt steps forward causing you to dive away as he stood shocked and almost scared for you. And the fear you seemed to have.

but he wouldn’t hate you even if that’s what you thought, because he to was a monster.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ WANDERER

— wanderer was not a known being, removing himself from the world and finding comfort in your little space

one he usually found on land, but now it wasn’t nor was it comforting.

He had found you not knowing he would he went near the water seeking nothing in particular instead he heard singing

well, more of humming a soft sound that drew him in tho he was still weary

he approached the sound slowly his gaze hidden under his hat only focusing on a rock with a silhouette

but it wasn’t any silhouette he paused a small breathy gasp escaping him

“love?” He said grabbing your shoulder

“Kuni..?” You said your voice shaky as you turned your hair wet and covering some of your face

he looked at your state and sighed hugging you

“You think I care?” He said almost offended

you tensed already in your vunrable state

“im a Monster! Look at me!” You yelled your hands in fists and your eyes narrowed the pupils in a inhuman shape

He cupped one cheek with a disappointed sigh

“ you seriously think i think of you different, your still you with or without a tail and fins” he said looking thoughtfully at you a still loving look in his eyes

“I’m nothing close to human either.” He said his hands stiff as he looked at you with a understanding look

“ so let’s both be imperfect together.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ HEIZOU

— he found it almost offensive that you thought he wouldn’t find out

I mean, him the most well know detective in all of inazuma! He felt so increasingly judged by the minute so he decided to bring it up to you

” I think you doubt my skills y/n” he said standing in front of you with his arms crossed well a childish pout was on his face

“what do you mean?” You said still looking over some papers

“do you really think I didn’t know about your little sea problem?” He said now in the most serious tone he could muster

you stopped every movement and looked up at him

“How the hell do you know” you said trying to sound intimidating but you cracked under the gravity of the situation knowing this could go two ways

“ just how long did you think it would take for me to find out” he said taking a step forward his gaze never meeting yours and his grip on his arms getting stronger

“Heizou I’m sorry I was gonna tell you I swear it just wasn’t the right time and I thought you’d be mad and-“ but you were cut off by his voice booming thru your ears

“ - I mean seriously? Me! Not find out! I’m the best of the best you really do think so lowly of me huh?” He said wiping a fake tear”

“what.” You said

“what?” He said

“your seriously not mad?” You said with a disappointed look at his childish behavior

“ yea super duper mad you think id not know, but i think you mean about the siren thing and no I don’t really mind but what’s realllyyy important is do you really think im such a terrible detective?! I mean come on hiding it?” He said pouting

you laughed “ oh you big baby”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ KAEDAHARA KAZUHA

the wind was what made his senses so keen so tho he was already aware as it was

Kazuhas steps were soft as the wind guided him towards the side of the crux’s ship a soft song among the winds guiding his senses towards a melody so beutifal but unknown to him.

the sides of the Cruz ship shifted on the raging waters while Kazuha leaned against it looking at the sea it soft with a rage held in its levels and other mysterious waiting to be unraveled one he’d soon find

And one he might be a bit startled by.

Kazuha looked for the singing to find it was near. On the far end of the ship. With careful feather like steps he reached the girl the one he’d loved for oh so long.

“y/n.?” He said softly and warryly

you turned to see the boy with a shocked but soft look on his face. A look that showed understanding. But not full conviction.

You gripped the wood planks your sharp nails cutting into the wood as you glared at him

Kazuha saw something behind that glare tho. Something that didn’t scare him. It was fear he saw not from him but you as if you were scared of your self.

his gaze softened and he smiled “oh, dear” he started his voice soft and smooth like the haikus he recited to you on long nights

He stepped closer moving his katana to his back and putting his hands up nodding reassuringly

“ please don’t worry yourself, I am not here to burden you with guilt” he said reaching his hand out frowning at a small tear welling in your eyes

“ let’s go, please I’ll love you no matter what my dear.”

[gilverrwrites]

Dickies Mom has got it goin’ on

Had to get this convoluted, angsty but fun idea out of my head. One day I might expand it into a better-written, fleshed-out fic, but for now please enjoy my yappy ramblings.

Wally West/BatMom!Reader

CWs: Wally being a not so great friend.

So like, imagine you're roughly late 20s/early 30s and happily married to the love of your life Bruce Wayne, there's an age gap sure, but ultimately that's not important. What matters is that you've made a life with him and his children. You're especially close with Dick, his eldest (late teens/early 20s) as you've known him since he was a teenybopper.

All is well, until one day in true comic book fashion; you die. You sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. It's all very tragic.

A decade later, it turns out fate isn't done with you. You've no idea how or why, but you wake in a coffin one day and have to claw yourself out of it. Cold, alone, and afraid, you make your way back to Wayne Manor. There you're greeted by your husband Bruce, but not really. This Bruce is greying. There are fine lines on his face you've never seen before and a ring on his finger that does not match yours.

You're not mad, it's been 10 years, and he was supposed to move on! But it doesn't feel like 10 years to you, it feels like only yesterday everything was perfect. It's devastating.

Queue Dick finding out. He just so happened to be hanging with his best pal Wally at the time, they both drop everything to rush over in a flash.

Your first night back on earth is messy. It's emotional, and stressful, a hell of a roller coaster. Ultimately, you spend most of it with Dick and Jay who surprise is also back from the dead. Dick is really your emotional soundboard, while Jay offers more practical advice about navigating a world that has gone on without you. He recommends you just take some time off, heal your wounds, catch-up with friends and family. You should learn from his mistakes.

Wally helps too. Primarily in a comedian relief way but also just as a sunny friendly face. His freckles and kind green eyes go a long way in making you feel at ease amongst a sea of familiar strangers.

He's adamant you've met before but you insist you'd never forget eyes that green and it stops his heart. You mean nothing by it, but it means a lot to him.

After you’ve parted ways, Dick makes a point of telling Wally not to flirt with you if he ever meets you again.

“Flirting? I wasn't flirting.”

“I was there.”

“But, come on man she's hot!”

“She’s my mom.”

“But she's our age now.”

“Wally, she's my mom!”

Eventually, after a lot of teasing, Wally surrenders but he deliberately makes no promises. He can't, not when he's been replaying the same 5-second interaction you'd had at Dicks 18th Birthday party many moons ago in his head over and over. He’ll try for his best friend, but it seems to him like this was meant to be.

Bruce may not be in love with you anymore, but he still loves you. So he helps how he can, offers you food and shelter, medical attention, a job, whatever you need to get yourself back on your feet.

You decide to take Jasons advice. Bruce still has a lot of your things; your clothes and your car. You ‘borrow’ gas money from your widowed husband and hit the road to seek out lost friends and family. Sad, but eager to get away from the city that no longer feels like home. You leave your rings with Alfred, a sign to Bruce that you expect nothing from him, that you'll leave him and his new wife be even though it breaks your heart.

The first stop is Dick, obviously, since you have to travel through Blüd. After joining him for a routine patrol, you spend the night on his couch, eating Thai food and talking about his life since you… passed. Nightwing as just finding his footing back then, but now he's a force to rival Batman.

You're two states over when you get a call from a number you don't recognise. Most of the people you know have changed their numbers since you last spoke, so don't hesitate to answer. You're surprised however by whose on the other end.

“Wally West? How did you get this number?”

“From Dick.”

He's not lying, he's just omitting the fact that Dick doesn't know Wally got your number from his phone bill. If he didn't want that info getting out he should probably put his bills somewhere other than a lockbox in a safe and quit being only person in the entire world to still actively use a landline.

His not-a-lie works however, the implication of Dick's approval helps you to let down those mother-appropriate conversation walls.

“Heard you're travelling cross country, any chance you plan on stopping in Keystone?”

“Why? Whats in Keystone?”

“Um, the Patriots?”

“Baseball?”

“And hotdogs! Al who serves em does not skimp on all the toppings, you've gotta try em.”

“You want me to detour in Keystone for baseball and hotdogs?”

“Well, there is something else.”

“And whats that?”

“Guess.”

“Unmmm… You?”

“Ding ding ding. She's smart and beautiful, a woman after my own heart.”

He's cute. So cute. He's no Bruce, but Bruce never made you laugh like this.

“Wally, this is a bad ideas. I was married until like a week ago.”

“And? I'm not askin’ you to walk down the aisle again, just one game and like 20 hotdogs. For me. You don't have to eat that many unless you want too.”

[drewstarkeyluvbot]

Let the light in

Rafe Cameron x ex-best friend pogue!reader

Summary: After Rafe drunkenly opens up his bare soul to you for the second time in your life, you're left bewildered and confused. You want to run away before he can pull you back in but perhaps a connection so profound is destined to be revived , in more ways than one.

warnings: angst , cursing , sexual content!

word count: 5k

part one , part two

~

The only evidence that indicated his presence was the empty glass of water on the coffee table and the - now dry - piece of cloth on the ground beside the worn-out couch. Rafe was gone the morning after.

He didn't reply to your last statement that night. You remember him staring at you blankly, your words slashing open another hole in his heart. So much blood, there's so much blood. Both of your wounds keep ripping open and you're both desperately trying to patch them up. Your efforts are in vain, the history behind them is too deep.

Why did he leave? Did he regret it? Did he even remember anything? Did he wake up , and was horrified at the sight of his surroundings, of your house? Did he know he opened his heart again, just like the time he told you he was in love with you?

Whatever his reasoning was, it was adequate to urge him to disappear from your house without a single word. But he did always have a habit of leaving, didn't he? Stop thinking he's who he used to be, stop thinking he's still your childhood friend , stop thinking he's still your first love.

I wish I could go back to the start.

You wanted to elbow him, slap him across the face and scream at him for a further explanation. He wishes he could go back to the start?. You wish there was no start at all ;  you want to rip your hair out and scream at your small, puffy-  cheeked five year old self to run when she sees that adorable, blue eyed boy approaching her at the playground. You want to warn her, caress her hair and tell her what a horrible person he is , tell her he's the fucking boogeyman ; anything to keep her away from the inevitable pain.

You can't.

You suppose the pain won't ever stop , you had growing accustomed to it before he reappeared. Pain is okay, it's to be expected when it stems from something that used to be so profound. You've sobbed yourself to sleep countless of times, until your eyes were itchy and red and your throat felt raw ; it felt really good, crying about him. Like unleashing your emotions inside the four walls of your cramped room, where they bounced off them and stayed inside.

That's what needs to happen. You can sob and cry and scream as much as your body allows you to ; you're entitled to. But you shouldn't be lead by pain.

So , as you're crying about Rafe Cameron under your warm, fluffy blanket and with the enchanting glow of the moon cascading over your body through your sketchy blinds , you understand that blotchy tears and sore throats won't get you anywhere. You're not okay - at the moment - but you will be, someday.

You're going to keep living until that moment arrives. Until the sight of him makes your lips tight and taut instead of wobbly, until he stops appearing in your dreams like an unachievable target, until he merely becomes a ghost of your past instead of a monster of your present.

Until then, salty tears and rapid headaches are your only resolution.

~

Since you were a child, you've always found getaways in order to escape the malicious feeling of pure pain. Crying and screaming assisted you in facing your pain, in confronting it. Nevertheless, at times you don't want to turn into a sobbing mess , you want not to think about it at all.

You've always loved the sea.

The sound of your feet digging into the sand and the soft splashing sound of the waves hitting the shore prevails over your soul crashing thoughts as you continue to increase the distance between you and your house. The beach is quiet and tranquil -mostly- a couple of people here and there, but the amount diminishing the further you find yourself walking.

Walking. Which is exactly what you planned to do until - you don't know - got lost, or until someone found you and dragged you away. You didn't plan to stop, not for anything, not for anyone.

You stare at the point where the sky meets the sea, the sun casting a warm, orange hue over the clear waters. You wished to be as beautiful and free as the ocean one day.

You love silence. You love feeling the wind slipping through your hair, the salt sticking to your skin and the sun turning your cheeks a pretty shade of rose. It's a feeling almost equivalent to the comfort a loved one can provide you with , the difference being that this feeling won't ever make you hurt.

The sun has fully set, shielding itself between the mountains. You're walking back home, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket with you ; the breeze making you grit your teeth and causing goosebumps on your skin.

You hear the loud roar of a motorcycle emerging from the distance, and you despise yourself for immediately having thoughts about a certain person when the sound reaches your ears. It's the outer banks, nearly everyone has a motorcycle. Nevertheless, luck was never really on your side.

Not tonight at least.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs when you hear the vehicle slowing down, before it comes to an abrupt stop right next to your figure. You gnaw on your bottom lip as you turn to look at him; he's slowly removing his helmet, and you almost wish the face that's hiding under was a stranger. But you suppose he's a stranger anyway.

You meet icy blue eyes, silence ensues. Cold, empty, bloody silence.

You could run, curse him out, slap him across the face with as much power as you can hold. Why are you frozen?

"It's late." The silence is broken by his deep voice ; you can hear it ever so slightly breaking out, "You shouldn't be walking alone."

Your mouth parts as you stare at him, "I'm fine." Your voice is quiet, the wind roaring louder. You stare at the way his Adam's apple bops as he thinks of a reply.

"What are you doing out here?" You hate that you your mind has fooled you to believe there's a hint of concern hidden in his tone. He doesn't care, he doesn't care, he doesn't care.

You stare at him for a moment, mindlessly. You open your mouth, "You left." You spit the combination of words out. You're not even sure if your statement hints towards the night that occured recently, or him leaving your life two years ago. You don't even bother to elaborate, whatever conclusion he draws will have the exact same outcome.

You can immediately tell your words startle him from the way the muscles in his jaw flex and tense. He sighs, scratching his jaw slowly "I didn't want to wake you up."

So,he picked the first version.

His words ring through your ears , your expression turning into something a lot more bitter. You immediately shake your head ; your feet are already making the first steps back to your path , "Goodnight, Rafe."

You feel a strong hand wrapping around your wrist, your body coming to an abrupt stop as the sensation of his touch courses throughout your entire body. You want to scream as loud as you can.

You don't turn your body around, he doesn't lessen his hold, none of you speak for sometime; probably filtering the gravity of your situation, from both sides of the story.

"I meant it." His words are spoken in a whisper, "All of it, every single word, I meant all of it."

Your throat instantly clogs up and your chest tightens as the ambiguous words sink in. I meant all of it. What did he mean? What is he referring to? The night he left you? The night of the thunderstorm? The night he told you he was in love with you? The night he came to your house drunk after years?

Rafe has said so many different things, and you could him to ask to elaborate, to be more specific on whether he still loves you the way he did or he despises your guts like he's supposed to.

You think you're allowed to be selfish for once in your life, you're not obliged to be Rafe Cameron's emotional punchbag, not when you're still frozen , not when you're still stuck at the place where he left you.

"Goodnight, Rafe." You repeat quietly, your hand slowly slipping out of his hold as you walk away.

He doesn't follow you, and - for the first time - you're glad he doesn't.

~

Your teeth forcefully grit together as your hand gently rests itself on the area between his shoulder blades ; groans spill from his lips like a robust waterfall as he stuffs his face inside your toilet bowl, his body limp and frozen on your cold tiles.

Your hand gently caresses his broad back, your legs tucked under you and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. "You're okay, it's okay." You whisper words of comfort as Rafe empties his whole stomach inside the bowl, your other hand moving to pull his curtain bangs away from his eyes.

He hoarsely coughs out the last drops  , breathing heavily as he moves his head away and lazily rests it on the toilet seat. You immediately scrunch up your nose at the sight, before gently moving your hands to cradle his head. "Come on." You whisper gently, moving his head right side up.

Groans spill from his lips at the change of position , lazy blinks directed at your face. You sigh quietly as you lift up the wet cloth you were holding and begin softly dapping at his mouth to clean him up.

Rafe hums contently, instantly leaning into your touch. You ignore the feeling of adoration bubbling in your chest at his sweet face, instead pulling the cloth away. "I can't lift you up,can you stand?" You whisper softly, sliding your fingers through his hair. Rafe mumbles a short response, nodding his head as he grips the marble of the toilet bowl to stand up. His legs are inevitably wobbling, and you  snake an arm around his waist to assist in steading him.

When he's stable, you slowly begin walking him towards your bedroom, softly kicking the door open with your foot.  You stumble a few times, barely managing to not tumble to the ground before you reach the bed. You slowly lay his broad body atop it, he lands with a soft hum.

You let out a soft sigh, before sitting right next to him. His eyes are closed, chest heaving up and down peacefully. You grab another wet cloth, scooting closer to him. You softly run the cloth down his face, wiping the sweat away carefully and offering him a sense of refreshment.

"Mhm," soft hums of pleasure leave his lips, his eyelids softly dropping open. The sides of his mouth quirk up in a soft smile. "You're so pretty."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to conceal your small smile; an odd tightening sensation occuring in your stomach at his words. "Sit up." You reply instead, bending forward to drop the cloth on the bedside table and grab the filled glass of water.

He groans quietly, but eventually obeys and slowly sit up. You hand him the glass carefully , his hand slightly shaky as he grips it. You watch as he downs it, grimacing slightly but knowing you'll possibly scream at him if he denies it.

You place the now empty glass back on the bedside table; he stares at you, giddily. You softly cradle the back of his head as you push him to lay back down on your fluffy pillow.

"No-" he suddenly speaks up, making your eyebrows immediately furrow at his words. "No?" You inquiry, utterly bewildered. He immediately shakes his head, groaning at his own action from the dizziness before he carelessly plops his head on your lap.

Your breath hitches at the action; you stare for a moment, dumbfounded and bewildered before he speaks up. "Better." He mumbles, tilting his body so his face is looking up at you. You stare down at him, at his silly expression that's stretched into a bright grin. "You're so pretty." He repeats slowly.

You shake your head, before moving your hand and tamely running it through his soft locks. He hums quietly, tilting his face to the side and nuzzling his nose against your hand. Your heart rapidly fills with warmth at the sweet sight, the side of your mouth quirking up.

"You need to stop drinking so much, I'm worried about you." You whisper softly, still playing with the mess on his head. "Do you promise me, Rafe?"

His pretty eyes gaze into yours , the pale colour reminding you of the tranquility that can only be found in the deep, blue waters. You've always loved the sea.

Instead of a reply to your question, Rafe merely smiles lazily. He lifts his hand, thumb softly grazing your pouty, plush bottom lip. "I'm so in love with you, you're the only one who cares."

I'm so in love with you , you're the only one who cares .

I'm so in love with you , you're the only one who cares .

I'm so in love with you , you're the only one who cares .

You wake up with a strangled gasp , your chest heaving up and down and your hair clinging to your forehead from the sweat that had gradually accumulated there. Your heart is beating inside your ears, as you filter your surroundings.

It is not the first time you had dreamt of that night,nor would it be the last. Alas, it usually drifted from what had actually occurred; your dreams are rarely accurate, anyway.

This time, every small and insignificant detail was so chillingly on point that you felt as if you were reliving the memory; that you were reliving that night, that you were reliving the moment he told you how he felt.

It's raining again; the thunder roaring in the distance and the raindrops rapidly falling against your living room windows. You had accidentally fallen asleep on your couch, a trashy show playing on your TV.  Your nails dig into your palms as you bring them to your eyes, elbows resting on your knees as you groan. Will you ever be okay?

The sound of the thunderstorm is excessively loud, yet not loud enough to drown out the sound of rapid knocks on your wooden door. Your eyebrows instantly scrunch together, before a wave of realization washes over you. The skies are dark and the rain is pouring, there's only one person that would ever ignore that. Your feet mindlessly lead you to the door.

When you unlock the door a wave of rain hits you, making you huff. You meet icy blue eyes under wet curtain bangs; you immediately grab his hand to pull him Inside,not postponing it or filtering your action.

No words are spoken as you hurry towards the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and scurrying back towards the living room. You throw it to him, irritation bubbling inside your veins.

He catches it immediately, leaning forward to dry his wet hair. You stare at him, trying to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron is currently standing in the middle of your living room, drying himself with your towel and he doesn't look drunk.

"What are you doing here, rafe?" You whisper,a peculiar feeling of anger rising inside your chest. "I doubt you randomly decided to drive through the south side of the island during a fucking thunderstorm."

He immediately freezes at your words, discerning the bitterness behind them. He lets out a soft sigh as he drops the wet towel on the couch, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. He breathes through his nose, "I wasn't." He speaks up, "I wanted to see you."

Your nose scrunches up, teeth digging into your bottom lip until you can practically taste blood. "Are you drunk again?" You can't help but spit out the first sentence that comes to mind.

Rafe breaths out slowly, "I'm not drunk, Y/n." Your arms come around to loosely hug your waist as his words sink in. You stare at him for a short moment, before letting out another sigh. "Why are here then?"

He stares at you, desperately attempting to meet your gaze. Your eyes remain fixed on the ground by his feet. He sighs. "My thoughts are drowning me."

Your eyes narrow at the ground, before you lift them up. "Your thoughts are drowning you?" Your repeat his own words back to him, quietly.

His nostrils slightly flare before he nods, "They are." He breaths out, "I've tried to escape them all these years, and I was doing fine-  " he takes a deep breath, "Before you showed up at my front door."

You don't reply, but you can feel the way your manicured nails dig into your bicep.  He immediately sighs, shaking his head. "Please say something." his voice is nothing but a weak whisper, it makes your chest ache.

You breathe out slowly, "What do you want me to say, Rafe?"

He immediately shakes his head in response, "Anything." He breaths out, "Scream at me, curse me out, throw a fucking book at my head -" his voice croaks , "Just, please - don't be as silent as you are in my dreams."

Your breath hitches at his words, the dream you had before he showed up practically taunting you in your head. He had dreams about you?

"I don't want to do that anymore." You croak out a reply quietly, "I don't want to hurt you anymore, it's pointless - "

"But I deserve it!" He instantly interferes , stepping a slight bit closer to you. "I deserve your anger, I deserve every bit of it." He whispers, his eyes pleading in the gloomy room. "I'm a horrible person, y/n."

You immediately shake your head, your arms falling back to your sides, "Rafe, you don't have to say -"

"I regret everything." He interferes again before you can finish your sentence, "Do you know how many nights I've spent dreaming of your face the night I told you to leave me alone?  " He whispers, and you desperately want to scream.

"Rafe - " you whisper breathlessesly , if only he knew how many times you've dreamt of the same night.

"I always tried to do everything right by - by him."  When Rafe speaks those words, he looks exactly like the small child he once was, the one that was craving his father's love.

Because you instantly know what he means , who he's referring to. You knew from the moment he let you go that his father had played a big part in it , that he had pulled certain strings. Rafe was a child that needed love, the same child that is still in him and begging to be healed.

You can feel your anger diminishing little by little , until all you can feel is remorse. You don't speak yet, he continues .

"He told me - he told me that I have  responsibilities as his son." He whispers ,  " - and that I've reached the age where I should start owning up to them. " He adds, fingers anxiously running through his messy hair. "Our image was one of them."

You don't interfere, instantly understanding that he's spilling out everything he has bottled up for god knows how long. He takes a deep breath ;  his hands coming up to rub his eyes fiercely, "this is so stupid - it's so fucking stupid." He whispers , and your heart immediately cracks. "He - he told me that being seen with people like you shows my value." You could barely decipher his glassy eyes in the gloominess of the night, "and he told me that's not what we - as a family - stand for."

The distance between you has diminished as your legs slowly move towards his broken frame. His body is slightly hunched over, his hands finding their way back to his eyes. "I'm so sorry, y/n."  his voice is quiet, "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

You can't physically see the tears pouring from his eyes , but the croaking of his voice serves as an indication, a broken indication. This is the moment that you have been eagerly waiting for years. Rafe Cameron is in a vulnerable position, he's driven by pain; the most malicious feeling. You finally have the upper hand, you can exploit the situation, you can make him drop to his fucking knees and beg till his throat goes raw and his knees start bleeding. You can cause him the pain you so desperately wish you could cause him since that horrible night.

You can do it  - god - you should do it.

You take a single step before your hands gently grip his wrists, moving them away from his puffy eyes. In the next second your arms gently snake themselves around his neck, face burying itself into the crook of his neck . He freezes for a mere second before his own arms tightly wrap around your waist, bringing your bodies together.

It has been years since Rafe Cameron cried in your arms. Yet, as you feel the tears falling against your hair and you shake as his body rakes with sobs ; you suppose nothing really changed. He's still the same broken boy that yearns for comfort and you're still the same loving girl that will provide him it. Always.

"It's okay, Rafe." You whisper comfortingly, one hand coming up and raking through his messy hair. "It's okay,I understand." Another sob is given as a reply, you feel him shake his head against your hair.

"You're an angel."  He whispers against the top of your head, his hand slowly running up and down your back in a comforting manner. "The sweetest angel."

Your breath hitches against his throat, and you slowly move your head back to meet his eyes. Pain, there's so much of it. Your hands are shaking as they move to his cheeks, ever so slightly grazing them to wipe away the tears. He immediately leans into your touch like a starving cat, his eyelids falling closed.

You're an angel.

"I meant it." Your body is taken back to that night on the beach, when he uttered those same words rather ambiguously. You remember being desperate for an elaboration but selfishly not asking for one. You suppose you'll receive it today.

His eyes are boring into yours now, the prettiest shade of blue; even when they're puffy and broken.  "I knew exactly what I was saying when I told you I was in love with you." Your heart practically jumps out of your chest at the sound of his words, mouth parting.

"I know it, because I've never felt it for anyone else, nor will I ever feel it." He continues, lowering his face. " My heart became yours the moment you hurt your knee at the playground." Your eyes sting at the sweet memory of your first encounter.

Rafe doesn't stop there, instead bringing a hand to push a strand of hair away from your face as he continues. "I searched for you in everyone else,do you know that?" You're staring at him, not able to form a single fucking word.

Rafe smiles rather sadly, "That girl you saw me at the party with?" He whispers softly, "I know you saw me, my chest tightened the moment our eyes met." You gnaw on your bottom lip at the bitter memory.

"She had your eyes, hair and almost had your smile." He whispers, before shaking his head "Almost ." He repeats, gaze falling to your plush lips . "I couldn't look into her eyes though, that would only remind me that she wasn't you."

Your eyes sting further at that, and you cannot comprehend the amount of emotional information you were given. Because what is actually happening? You immediately shake your head, not knowing what to do or how to act.

"I would trade the touch of a million women if it meant I could look into your eyes everyday." Your heart swarms with warmth at the sweet words, and you genuinely want to scream.

"Rafe." You finally find the strength within you to speak up. "Do you understand what you're saying?"

He gazes into your beautiful eyes for a moment, his hand continuing to caress your back. "I'm saying what I should have said years ago." He whispers softly, "What I should have said before letting you walk out of my life like you weren't the best thing to ever happen to me."

Your breath hitches again, fanning his pouty lips due to the close proximity. He slowly runs his fingers through your hair, "If you tell me to fuck off , to never speak to you again, I'll completely understand." He elaborates after a beat of silence. "I just - I see you  in my mind all the time and I- I can't even think properly when I know you hate the person I've become." He whispers , eyes never leaving yours.

Silence ensues.

"Please,say something." His tone is nothing but yearning and pleading. "Please."

Instead of providing him with a verbal response, you find yourself balancing on your tippy toes as you gently place your lips on top of his, knocking the air out of his own lungs. The hand that was caressing your back falters for a moment , before it tightly wraps around your waist as the other moves to cradle your jaw. When Rafe starts moving his lips against yours, your mind turns hazy and foggy.

Your first kiss is languid and slow ; your hands are gently running through his locks as he softly grips your hips. You suppose you should have said something more instead of silencing him with your mouth. You also suppose that actions speak louder than words.

"Tell me this is real." He whispers against your lips, his nose slowly nuzzling against yours. The corners of your mouth lift immediately, receiving one in return when he feels it against his own.  "Fully healing is going to take time." You whisper softly, your lips grazing his as you talk. "But this is real."

Rafe's heart immediately swarms with warmth at your words ; they're almost like a bandage, slowly covering each and every cut that was causing his heart to bleed. The ice around his eyes gradually melts away, because the light of his life has returned.

He tilts your chin up, his face brightening up after what feels like forever. "We'll heal eachother." He whispers gently, before reconnecting your lips.

Time seems to slow down after that, your hands are gently tugging at his hair as he languidly slips his tongue into your mouth. Your breath hitches as he slides it against yours, your tummy blossoming with newborn butterflies.

You don't know how much time has passed in eachother's mouths before you're pulling away and wrapping your hand around his wrist. His eyebrows scrunch in confusion; the feeling immediately washes away when you begin walking him towards the direction of your bedroom. He remembers where it is, this house used to be his own.

His body covers yours like a blanket the moment you lay yourself on your soft mattress; his lips immediately search yours again as your hands slide across his broad shoulders. He pulls away after a moment, only to pepper your face with small kisses. You let out a soft giggle as he showers you with adoration, his lips quirking up at the beautiful sound.

"You're gorgeous." He whispers against your jaw before his mouth moves lower , nose snuggling against your bare neck. When he begins sucking and nibbling, you can do nothing but moan at the sweet sensation, hand slowly caressing the back of his head.

"You sound so sweet." Your pajama shirt has been discarded to the floor, his lips moving over your breasts languidly. He closes his mouth around a nipple, softly sucking on it and causing small whimpers to fall from your lips. "Oh-"

He smiles softly, before his lips slowly trail lower. He plants soft kisses on your stomach as he makes his way down, "My pretty girl." He hums softly, moving his fingers to hook on the edge of your shorts. "Lift your hips."

You immediately obey, assisting him in removing your pajama shorts. You expected to feel embarrassed under his gaze, but you feel nothing short of appreciation. He smiles at you, before moving back between your legs.

Both of his hands move to grip each thigh, his face moving forward only to plant a soft kiss against your lace covered core. A gasp instantly falls from your parted lips at the sensation, before you feel his fingers tracing the edge of your white panties. He looks up at you instantly, "Can I?"

Your reply is in the form of a nod and before you know it , your panties are pulled down your legs and your thighs are moved to his shoulders. The first lick is slow and tentative, your mouth dropping open on a moan.

He hums in pure appreciation as his hands grip the warm flesh of your thighs, his tongue moving in circles against your clit. He moans against you, his movements speeding up. "Rafe - oh-!" You can merely moan, back arching off the bed prettily.

"Sweet thing." He whispers against your heat, "My sweet girl, my girl." His words are enough to make you see stars, thighs clenching around his head. He groans at the sensation , combined with the feeling of your hands gripping his roots tightly to ground yourself.

It doesn't take you a long before you feel the tightening sensation in your lower tummy, and your moans only grow more desperate. It's incredible that Rafe senses your desperation immediately, keeping up his movements but accompanying them with his deep voice. "Come for me ,baby, please."

When the feeling washes over you, your toes curl on his shoulders and your mouth chokes out a scream of his name. He receives all of it with a hum, hand softly caressing your thigh as he places wet kisses up to your mouth.

"You're so perfect, taste so perfect." He whispers lovingly , his messy lips finding yours yet again . You whimper against his mouth, teeth biting his bottom lip desperately.

You're too hazy from your orgasm to comprehend anything as you reach for your bedside table, a condom package secured in your palm. His clothes are on the floor in what feels like seconds , and your naked skin is now plastered together. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist as he whispers questions of reassurance against your pretty lips.

"I want you, Rafe." Your sweet voice is enough to guide his hips forward , both of you gasping in response. His blue eyes stay locked on yours the entire time your bodies are moving, your mouth agape on a gasp as he presses soft kisses against your face.

"I love you" you whisper quietly after a while, your nails scratching down his toned back eagerly. He hisses at the sensation , hips bucking forward abruptly. When your words register , his heart blooms with adoration. He accelerates the movement of his hips ; his lips moving to taste yours again. "I love you." He whispers back to you, "I love you." He repeats, both of your moans getting louder as you get closer to the brink of sweet relief. "I love you, angel -" both of you gasp, before his body stills.

And as you're breathing inside each other's mouths, sharing words of love and reassurance, you realize that you're both a mess, a beautiful mess of utter chaos.

But you found your way back to eachother; whatever the implications might be , you're willing to face them together. Always.

Always and forever.

~

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Who's been thinking about you? Why are you on their mind?

Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are the necronomicon tarot, alchemy oracle, wizard tarot and the crystallary oracle.

🌊Tip your Reader🐋

PILE ONE

Astrology: Taurus, Libra, Leo

Song: Taking What's Not Yours by TV Girl

Vibes: Blue, green, yellow, orange, overactive third eye, prophetic dreams, gold jewelry, masks, vulnerability, candles, 555, 7777, swings, volcano, picture books, Hephaestus, Apollo, Aphrodite

Cards: The Empress, Knowledge, 5 of Pentacles, 10 of Books, Autumn, Mystical Sister, Labradorite, Larimar

Hey, pile 1. I see 2 different people who have been thinking about you. I see one of them used to be your other half. Someone you felt close enough to they felt like family. I think y'all had a falling out of some kind. The second one is someone you only knew briefly. You met them right before they started to know themselves. You weren't destine to really know them and they weren't destine to know you. You may have worked with them or went to school with them. It looks like they have been talking about you to each other. It isn't gossip talk by the way. It seems very positive. They both feel like Leo's by the way. I could also see them as Aquarius's.

The former friend is telling this former acquaintance about you. The friend has needed to talk to someone about what happened between you two. They want to make up with you but are a bit too stubborn and prideful to admit they were wrong about whatever you two were fighting about. They miss you a lot. They think they made a mistake by causing such a fuss about this. They regret the falling out. They saw how gracefully you handled the conflict and they feel pretty guilty about acting so childish.

The former acquaintance is learning so much about you from the former friend. They knew little to nothing about you before they started talking to this person. Before, their view of you was very vague but they loved how you dressed and wanted to emulate their style. They really wanted to know you but were too shy to really ask to hang out or to ask where you got your clothes from. The more they learn about you the more they wished they had taken a chance because even though this ex-friend is the one telling them about you they aren't saying anything bad. They hear the stories of you and I think they feel envious of how close this former friend got to you.

You probably know these two are hanging out now. You don't really care because you have moved on from that part of your life. You would totally be open to forgiving your ex-friend and getting to know your former acquaintance but they won't take the chance. You shouldn't reach out either. They have to be brave enough to seek you out on their own. You are very forgiving and kind. I think the only reason they wont come forward is because of their own insecurities. They don't feel they are worthy of your light. They know you are a strong independent individual and they might not know how to handle how good you are at setting boundaries.

__________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Capricorn, Cancer, Pisces

Song: Welcome to the Family by Watsky

Vibes: White, blue, orange, silver, apples, trees, storms, ex-christian, reflection, boomer, garden, moon cycles, sea gulls, POS, irregular periods, feminine, 222, 4, birds, Demeter, Hera, Persephone, Artemis

Cards: 5 of Cults, Shame and Decay, Growth, Ace of Wands, Tin, Dissolution, Almandine Garnet

Hello, pile 2. There is one person thinking of you. It is a family member. I feel a feminine energy but it could be someone of any gender. I feel that this person believes you inherited your power and your abilities from them. I don't think this is true, this is just a belief of theirs. They have a lot of believes about you that aren't true to be honest. When they look at you all they can see is a mirror and they see nothing beyond that pre-existing belief. They could be a Taurus or a Libra but I also see Leo energy here too.

This person does not like how you live your life. This person has a predetermined idea of how you should be living. They can't seem to get the idea that you aren't their copy. They think because you aren't following the life they think you should that you are somehow sinning or demonic. They can't seem to understand you are an individual. In their eyes you are an extension of themselves. This way of thinking is really cancerous. They make wild and outrageous claims about your life that are made with no proof or evidence. They are honestly just poisoning their own mind by doing all of this. I hear them praying for you but they don't really know what they are praying for. What they say they are praying for is your uprising and for you to "come to your senses" but they are just praying for your down fall. They gossip to their friends about you and honestly some of the friends that have stood up for you and said that this person was being ridiculous. This person immediately and immaturely cut off anyone who didn't agree with them.

Do not reach out to this person. If you are still in contact with this person I recommend removing them from your connections. They do not have your best interest at heart and I think contacting them would add more fuel to the fire. They are sick in the mind and refuse to admit that they could be wrong. They do not take criticism well and they do not like anything different than themselves. They surround themself with yes-men who will do anything they say. Please, stay safe and protect yourself from such a mean person. They do not deserve your light.

____________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Scorpio, Sagittarius, Aries

Song: Hey, Runner! by The Arcadian Wild

Vibes: Black, brown, rainbow, teal, tendrils, doorways, stairways, 6666, 1234, snakes, crows, ravens, dogs, squirrels, spiders, animals, burrows, wild, water, skeletons, halloween, keys, cats, Pan, Artemis

Cards: 10 of Curses, Rotation, Darkening, Smokey Quartz, Queen of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 6 of Books

Hi, pile 3! I see one person thinking of you. This person was not good to you. They abused you. It could be a former romantic partner or a family member. I also see you might have worked together. Either way they are not a good person. This person made you feel very helpless. I'm sorry they treated you so bad. You deserved better. They did something awful to animal you really loved. They somehow removed this beloved pet from your life. They didn't like that you gave more attention to this creature than them. They were jealous of this animal. They wanted to control you and your emotions. They took joy in your mourning. For some of the people reading, I think this person could have hid that it was their fault that this animal left your life. They could have acted totally innocent when you cried about your loss but for others I think it was very obvious that it was their fault.

The reason they have been thinking about you is because they have been feeling bad about themself. They used you to regulate their self hatred and emotions overall. They miss the power they had over you. They miss being a predator. It looks like you found an out from a life around them a while ago. You escaped their grasp like they always said you couldn't do. You made your own life and you made it beautifully. I don't think you have very active social media or at least not social media they have access too. They have tried to find you online but they can't seem to locate you. When they do find you they text you immediately and you block them like always. They don't like how you see yourself as equal to them now. They are such a piece of shit for real. They do not like that you live is flourishing without them. They are so pathetic lmao.

I'm proud of you for getting away from them, my dear. You have taken such good care of yourself since you left. You are a wonderful and lovely person who did not deserve to get fucked over by someone who was supposed to care for you. This person is tied up in knots about not having control anymore. They will never have control again. They used to feel powerful when they bullied you but now your power over your own life makes them feel weak.

__________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aquarius, Gemini, Virgo

Song: Cherry Hearts by The Shin and RAC

Vibes: Iridescent blue, dark blue, turquoise, gold, cicadas, moons, spilled water, tears, 888, mountains, wings, snakes, mourning star, water, swimming, ocean, copper, eldritch horror, Ra, Horus, Aphrodite Urania, Mother Mary

Cards: Queen of Swords, Moonstone, Chrysocolla, Uranus, Virgin's Milk, Death, 8 of Cups, 8 of Pentacles

Hi, pile 4. So there are two separate people thinking about you. They are unrelated to each other and they do not know each other but they have the same reason for thinking about you. The first person was a friend that was crushing on you hard. I think maybe you had a one night stand with this person and it changed their life. I think they are probably an Aries. The other was a very close friend that moved away. Or maybe you moved away from them. I can see you guys being friends in college. I think this person is a Cancer or an Aquarius. They both were deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The Aries person followed you around like a puppy. They are a very masculine person but you made them feel a lot different than they usually do. I think you might have been their first real crush or their first fuck. They put a lot of effort into getting to know you even though you made it very clear you did not want a relationship. They still attempted to get into a relationship with you despite your boundary setting. They were a fool. You taught them about their passions which makes me think you have a "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" kinda vibe to you. They really were head over heels for you. I don't think you are in their life anymore. I think this person will think about you for the rest of their life.

The Cancer/Aquarius person was a really close friend of yours. I think either you helped them through a break up or they helped you through a break up. Either way during the mourning process they fell for you so hard but they kept it secret. They didn't know if their feelings were real or if they were just because of the situation. This person might still be in your life but I don't see them ever telling you about their feelings. I think they see you as this really cool and independent person. They don't think someone like you could ever love them. They try to keep their feelings down. They tell themselves their feelings are not real but their heart always skips a beat when they see you. They still catch themselves imagining a future with you. They have some naughty dreams about you too. They can not get you out of their head.

Both of these people love you a lot, my friend. I don't know if it's just your personality but you are just a really lovable person. You might be accidentally flirtatious. I hope this gave you some insight on who was thinking of you, my dear.

[thewertsearch]

Let's kick things off with a mega-giga ask compilation!

I've spent the last couple of days working through the backlog, and I've been able to answer some quite old asks that were spoilers at the time they were sent.

@kintatsu asked: So, I was rereading your blog, and got to the post where you determine that John's 13th birthday was a Monday, and complain on his behalf that he couldn't really relax due to having the whole schoolweek ahead of him. Well, I checked, and the previous day was the first Sunday after the first full moon after the equinox, i.e. Easter Sunday. So it might have been a holiday week.

John entered the Medium shortly after Easter Sunday, and he did so by biting into an apple. Forget about the god tiers – his most powerful transformation is clearly Catholic Beast Mode.

Anonymous asked: The thing about knowing your Aspect, I think, is that it's the Aspect you most GET. I GET Space and Light, I understand them completely, they are suffused in my bones and my blood, they are writ large upon my brain and every base in my DNA. What aspect do you just GET?

To be honest, I don’t think I know enough about any Aspect to ‘get’ it.

If I had to choose, then I'd probably feel the most natural affinity for Life and/or Doom – and if was forced to pick one, I’d say I'm very slightly more drawn to Life, just based on vibes.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: I think the horrorterror’s plan (or the closest thing we can comprehend) is CHAOS-by which I mean LIFE. Skaia is order. If it can want, then it wants its players to follow the script it has written-the Alpha. It wants propagation, the snake to eat it’s own tail, blah blah blah. That is order. That is perfect servitude. That is NOT life. The gods, meanwhile, want chaos. It wants its servants to live. It does not tell people to do anything. It simply gives them the facts, and says “here is what you should do. You can not, you can do whatever the hell.” It wants romance, conflict, CHAOS. that is life.

And if this theory is accurate to the canon Life aspect, then I feel justified in my affinity for it. It falls fairly closely in line with my own philosophy.

@necrowyrm asked: When searching your blog I always type "thew" before Tumblr autocompletes your URL. That has become who you are to me.. Thew, Glorious Liveblogger, navigating the treacherous seas of Homestuck

Sally ‘Thew’ Ertsearch, reporting in. 🫡

Anonymous asked: there's actually another arthurian joke to do with dave's land/quest. have another look at the disc platform that bro stabbed. how would you describe the shape of that turntable?

Ayy, Dave's a Knight of the Round Turntable! Honestly, that'd be a pretty great name for his theme song.

@caliquill asked: kanaya vs rose would be absolutely hilarious but. kanaya IS the original "I Can Fix Her" girl for a reason.

Anonymous asked: the only real requirement for a name suggestion to be picked was that the firstname was 4 letters. but by really cool coincidence strider and lalonde are 7 letters, and egbert and harley are 6, and if you add those together its 4/13! similarly, both the trolls names were required to be 6 letters (i think hussie mixed and matched them actually, some of the firstnames were suggested as surnames and vice versa) so theres a similar case to be made for 6/12. but just doubling the same number i think holds less water than adding together two different numbers

Number symbolism is just very flexible in general. All Hussie really had to do was introduce a few 'important' numbers, and the fandom could start finding them everywhere!

Anonymous asked: This may be the wrong place to ask, but have you deleted your post of analyzing the Let the Squiddles Sleep song? I can't seem to find it anywhere.

Here it is. Hopefully you're able to see it now!

Anonymous asked: Will the Mega-Ask-Compilation and Liveblog Recap also happen? ~LOSS (19/2/23)

The former is currently taking place. The latter was planned, but after skimming my blog for a bit, I realized I didn't have as much to say about it as I thought I did. Plus, it's been ages, so I'm really excited to look at some new pages. We can leave the old ones for later - I'll probably do some sort of blog retrospective eventually.

Anonymous asked: i figure the trolls' battlefield went through a full set of dnd dice/platonic solids, plus maybe some other notable johnson solids like a truncated icosahedron (aka a soccer ball or buckminsterfullerene), before becoming a sphere. maybe the outer ring went through stages like simple torus, mobius strip, borromean rings or other fun knots, before becoming a mobius net. (not really sure what a mobius net is, mathematically, but that's apparently what the thing around the final form of the kid's battlefield is called.) or maybe something weird happens with that many prototypings, and the battlefield turns into a tesseract or a klein bottle or a menger sponge or a mandelbulb.

If you so much as look at the Battlefield created by the Gigasession, your brain will leak out of your ears.

@manorinthewoods asked: <3Dave, >3>John, >3oJade, <>Rose (by process of elimination) ~LOSS (5/6/23)

I don’t think either of the girls have worn a playing card symbol. The leaf on Jade’s Wardrobifier does kind of look like a spade, but John’s already got that quadrant on lockdown.

Anonymous asked: Reading stuff about skaia on this blog reminded me of madoka, and made me consider that skaia might be like kyube and the other incubators and sburb is skaias way of keeping the unerverse from decaying

Reading this ask makes me realize that Rose is a near-perfect mark for Kyubey.

There’s only one way to save your session, Seer. Form a contract with me, and become a magical girl.

Anonymous asked: man. i dont know what i expected to happen when you found it. but for The Baby Is You to be liveblogged in less than 20 words during a post was not the way i expected it to go

I know it’s not technically part of Homestuck canon, but it really feels like Homestuck canon to me - at least to the same degree as Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, and I liveblogged that.

Anonymous asked: begging (lightheartedly) for you to add posts like LOLCAT and "this guy's an orb" to one of the liveblog tags. they're pretty funny, and it's nice to see off-the-cuff reactions like that, haha. imo it'd be a shame for new readers to miss those kind of posts

Done! I sometimes forget to tag posts like that, because I usually just fire them off and forget about ‘em.

@captorations asked: “Give me a set of rules, and I'll analyze the hell out them, every time.” hello fellow doom player. hope you like the color green

Based on ~ATH’s association with curses, as well as Sollux’s programming hobby, I think there’s a decent chance that Doom relates to coding in some way.

Coding is all about rules, so perhaps Doom, is, in fact, the aspect of rules and logic. I'm not sure why such an aspect would be named 'doom', but it's been obvious for a while that these aspect names aren't always literal.

Anonymous asked: I’d just like to clarify some terminology because it seems relevant, but Aradia isn’t a red blood, she’s a rust blood

[The blood colors all have canon names: Aradia = rust blood Tavros = bronze blood Sollux = gold blood Nepeta = olive blood Kanaya = jade blood Terezi = teal blood Vriska = blue blood (I like cerulean better tho) Equius = indigo blood Gamzee = purple blood Eridan = violet blood Feferi = fuchsia blood and Karkat has no official blood name, but people usually call him mutant blood or candy-red blood - C ]

Oh, there are official names for each color? That’s going to be helpful to disambiguate each blood caste, especially when we really start digging into troll culture and biology.

Anonymous asked: I do believe the top-left ship on the wall - no, Karkat doesn't have red eyes. […] It's probably Vrisrezi, yes, but it could also be Vriskat.

Yeah, I’m still not sure who this ship is supposed to represent.

They have Terezi’s eyes, but the hair and symbol look like Karkat’s. Plus, Nepeta hates this ship, which would make sense if it’s between her crush and someone other than her.

Honestly, my best guess is that it was meant to be Karkat, and the red eyes were just a mistake on Hussie’s part.

Anonymous asked: something I never thought about… is the blue blood sourced from equius or did he get a stock.

Aradia has real blue indigo blood in her veins, and it almost certainly belongs to Equius himself. He could have got it from a donor, but I personally doubt there was anyone else he could ask. Equius feels like he'd be an outsider, even to other indigo-bloods.

Anonymous asked: vriska would be a good strider

Vriska Serket raised by Bro Strider would be the most terrifying character imaginable. I don't even want to contemplate what that upbringing would do to her.

Anonymous asked: Any piece of lore hussie writes needs to contend with the fact that hussie is resolutely committed to the bit. Hence all the words on how different trolls are being entirely blasted aside by 'and then they're just grey humans anyway lmao'

That's the price of admission into Homestuck, for better or for worse. Hussie quite clearly enjoys screwing with us, and we have to take everything we see in the comic with a huge pinch of salt.

Anonymous asked: I'll disagree a bit on the phrasing that Eridan forces Feferi to <> him because firstly she doesn't even seem convinced that he would commit genocide and secondly she dropped him super easily once the lusus-feeding is no longer necessary. While understandable, that doesn't suggest to me someone who is obliged by Eridan's aggression to pacify him. I think she has much more agency in this relationship (or lack thereof I suppose) than that.

Feferi definitely had her doubts – but she must have believed that Eridan was dangerous to a certain degree, because that’s the basis of a moirallegiance.

Forced might not be the right word, but she certainly felt some amount of obligation to pacify him. She sure wasn’t in that relationship for the good of her health.

Anonymous asked: So, Vriska has a conversation with Karkat, where he says she seems to have blackrom feelings for Tavros, but that he doesn't think Tavros can even feel blackrom properly. Then she has another conversation with Tavros in which she antagonizes him, and he notices, but just kind of ignores it and doesn't respond emotionally. Then we see her make a huge dramatic redrom gesture and kiss him. She vacillated because he wasn't into her… incel behavior.

Yup. I’ve always held that Tavros never wanted anything to do with Vriska. He doesn't want to love or hate her - what he really wants is to live in a world where she doesn't exist.

Vriska’s refusal to accept this basic fact is one of the main reasons she’s decided to make his life a living hell.

Anonymous asked: I headcanon that troll blood is analog, but the empire culls non-digital colors because they make the troll race seem like a joke or something. Lol

If there were minor variations in blood color, the Empire probably wouldn’t want to acknowledge it, since the stratification of blood classes forms the basis of their society.

We haven’t seen any trolls besides our twelve (apart from Troll Will Smith) so we can’t compare the blood of two members of the same caste - but we can speculate. Human blood color is known to vary depending on its oxygenation level, and I imagine troll blood would reflect its current chemical composition in the same way.

Anonymous asked: Vriska must be seething while Karkat introduces the concept of quadrants to the reader. Imagine this basic and important facet of troll life, and you're just getting schoolfed it. (This message was sent on 20/10/22.)

This was a fun bit of weirdness from early Hivebent, wasn’t it? In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that Karkat decided to infodump to Vriska about the obscure, niche topic of… dating.

@sanctferum asked: According to his formspring, Hussie's self-insert's classpect is Waste of Space. He also briefly considers Huss of Lips. This is obviously not meant to be taken seriously but. since you asked @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: i believe hussie said somewhere that FedoraFreak's classpect was "Gent of Piss" Anonymous asked: (not sure if this is technically a spoiler but) hussie has jokingly said that fedorafreak's class is a gent.

If Dad Egbert was a Player, then the Gent class would be forced into canonical existence, as the only class that could possibly define him.

Anonymous asked: If Vriska's control does require the victim to on some level want to do the thing, then Sollux's insistence that you do not under any circumstance eat the mind honey could be something he developed in response to that incident. So that if she ever controls him again, she won't be able to make him eat it.

Wow, I never considered that. That’s a very good (and tragic) take, and I think I'm at least locking it in as a headcanon.

Anonymous asked: the official extended zodiac actually has… 288 signs, if im doing my math right? and also probably hadn't yet been conceptualized when that page was posted (the earliest known evidence comes from 2015). i don't know if any thought was put into the number or if it was just pulled from their ass, but there was a running gag in hussie's q&as where he repeatedly threatened us with a 10,000 page intermission focused on 48 squiddles, each representing a sign from the alternian zodiac Anonymous asked: I believe the troll zodiac is one of the few things in HS lore that was truly retconned, there’s actually 288 signs.

Move over, 48 Squiddles. I want to hear about the 288-player clusterfuck that actually gave rise to Alternia!

@manorinthewoods asked: wheee, you got to the first god tiering! this probably opens up a load of new things to say, so, first off: do you think you need to have a full echeladder to god tier? vriska implied so.

She never outright stated that it was required, but I still think it probably is. You generally need to max out your class levels before you can prestige.

@morganwick asked: Believe it or not, you're still in the "Homestuck could have updated RIGHT NOW" phase of the comic's release schedule. The break after the Equius-Aradia kiss aside, the hiati you've heard horror stories about didn't start becoming a thing until the end of Act 5.

[this was around page 3000. still true at this page though - C]

Hussie’s sheer productivity at this stage continues to astound. Could you imagine having that much creative energy?

Maybe Hussie just drinks twenty coffees a day.

Anonymous asked: as someone who is Normal about aradia it's an absolute delight to see someone dig into her character. she's so fascinating to me. (also, fun fact, a while ago tumblr voted her the coolest character in all of homestuck. so there's that)

Aradia’s awesome, and I still don’t think her death is going to stick.

Her ghost was perfectly capable of existing without a body, so there's no reason she can’t survive her new body's destruction.

Anonymous asked: feferi hasn't just woken up, she won't be stuck asleep until 3 hours and 14 minutes into the future! timestamps, yo

Consider this the first mark on my otherwise impeccable record.

Anonymous asked: does cat have a troll/kidsona? itd be interesting to see a full 4 player session in art

[No kidsona, yes trollsona, but even a picture of her would spoil stuff from Act 6 😆 - C]

What she said. It’ll be a while until we can meet KATYAA SCRENR.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Hey! You can just call me Fan. In all honesty I’m just some guy who likes your liveblog. He/him. I’m gonna list some fan aspects, and I want to see what you think they’d represent, and what abilities they’d give Law Dreams Might Shape Flow

Ooh, more fan aspects! These were a lot of fun to puzzle out the last time.

Law would be the aspect of command, instruction and agreement. An example power would be giving someone a simple rule they're compelled to follow, such as 'don't turn around'.

Dreams would be the aspect of ideas, motivation and symbolism. An example power would be the ability to detect people's idle thoughts - the things they're not even aware they're thinking about.

Might would be the aspect of growth, conflict and evolution. An example power would be the ability to temporarily enhance someone's Aspect abilities, at the cost of making those abilities harder to control.

Shape would be the aspect of form, encapsulation and topology. Shapeshifting is the most obvious application of this aspect, but it's appropriate.

Flow would be the aspect of persistence, momentum and continuity. An example power would be the ability to 'continue' something that has recently stopped. For example, if your PC ran out of power, they'd be able to keep it running for a while. The longer it had been previously running, the longer they could keep it running.

@martinkhall asked: I think Bro might have been raised entirely by shonen anime and My Little Pony Friendship is Magical (the version that existed only in the heads of the worst examples of Bronys). And puppets. Puppets were definitely involved in raising Bro. Anonymous asked: "He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I’m not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider." well. i mean. he grew up with Lil Cal didn't he? the clearly haunted puppet from the sburban dreamscape of derse? it was what he dropped to earth with. i feel like that might explain at least a small part of, like, whatever he had going on.

That’s true. I don’t trust that puppet one bit, and we don’t know what it was up to before the start of the session.

I still suspect that the thing’s still just as alive as it was on Derse, and is just choosing to play dead.

Anonymous asked: I imagine you might've already been told this, but when checking out your FAQ I noticed you described PS/PQ/FS as "not exactly canon" and that you're less interested in liveblogging them because one of your favorite parts is watching all the story come together -- without spoiling anything, I find it pertinent to mention that Pesterquest & Friendsim definitely contribute to the wider "canon" even though dubiously canon themselves. Definitely "part of the story" so to speak.

Yeah, we’ll have to see what comes of this. The problem is that I’m still fuzzy on what ‘dubiously canon’ actually means.

Hopefully that will become more clear as I’m actually liveblogging these tie-in materials – which I am planning on doing. Only time will tell how in-depth the liveblog will actually be, though.

@manorinthewoods asked: In my Sundered opinion, Bec Noir is the best character design in Homestuck. I can't think of any other interesting designs at the moment, other than some which don't beat him and are spoilers anyway (like LE's). Which design do you find most interesting, out of the ones you have? ~LOSS (22/9/23)

I definitely agree that BecJack has one of the best designs in the comic. Plus, Scratch is so weirdly intimidating for a cueball-head.

Anonymous asked: My favorite part of PKWU is just how pointy Gamzee's chin is. It's so… Defined.

iT’s ToO lAtE, ErIdAn! I’vE AlReAdY DePicTeD MySeLf As ThE ChAd, AnD yOu As ThE SoYjAk >:o)

Anonymous asked: i need you to know ag canonically ripped off the sleeves on all of her shirts just to show off the robot arm

I believe it. I don't even need a source; this is just so true to Vriska's character that it's obviously correct.

@bladekindeyewear asked: If you and your ask screener decide that literary/external-media hero title examples without any details or explanation are alright to pass on unless they're too obviously revealing -- and those in and of themselves are usually in heavy dispute by classpect theorists -- I've long been of the opinion that Monkey D. Luffy and Peter Pan are the best possible literary examples of a Page of Breath.

All Pages of Breath must be associated with pirates. No exceptions.

Anonymous asked: unfun fact: the reason rose and jade dont have a lot of pesterlogs with eachother is just because their text colours were kinda eyestrainy together. thats it thats literally the whole reason!! god damn

Hussie: "I don't write Rose/Jade conversations because they’re hard to read."

Also Hussie:

Anonymous asked: you have officially passed my second favourite flash in literally all of homestuck. it's all so well hinted at beforehand but it still comes to punch you in the gut nonetheless Anonymous asked: My favourite thing in this flash is how the name of the flash isn't John: Rise Up, it's JOHN. RISE UP. it's WV sending a plead to John to not die. My second favourite thing is the way the music remixes Doctor (The theme for LoWaS). Anonymous asked: [S] JOHN. RISE UP. is one of my favorite flashes in all of Homestuck. Savior of the Waking World is some of Toby's best work What are your thoughts on our first taste of god tier? @violetsquare111 asked: So glad you liked Savior of the Waking World! One of my favorites in the comic for sure. It takes a lot of ideas from another of Toby's songs, Penumbra Phantasm, a song that… never actually got finished or officially released. There's still various renditions of it though, and the HS collection links a couple of em. (Some people have speculated that Penumbra Phantasm itself was never supposed to be a Homestuck song, and might end up being used in Deltarune, which would be cool as hell) Anonymous asked: It's crazy to think that just about 12 hours ago John was wearing silly disguises to fool his dad and now he's dying to become a god.

God time!

I do think it was the most emotional flash we’ve had, on the strength of the music alone. Savior of the Waking World goes hard as all hell.

Honestly, when WV started calling John a hero, and telling him to rise, it did start to give me some mild chills. Like, yeah – we know John’s a hero, but it feels extra special when it’s coming from someone who’s normally so irreverent.

@elkian asked: Welcome back, hope you're feeling better! I am losing it a bit over you IMMEDIATELY understanding how this coin flip sitch works, something about the narrative and reasoning doesn't match my brain so I've reread it multiple times with total understanding out of grasp and watching you dissect it halfway into the page is truly wild (delighted). Also feel like I understand it a lil better with your analysis.

Thank you! This message was actually sent the last time I returned from a pause, so apologies that I’m one hiatus late in answering it.

@royalvorpal asked: I just reread your entire blog in anticipation. Anonymous asked: This is such a good liveblog, I'm rereading it again and you are really letting me relive the pleasant parts of my middle school years. Reading this blog makes me feel like I'm back on the school bus talking to my friend about the newest update. Thank you for doing this 💛 Anonymous asked: That return page didn't have any sound, so misleading! (I jest, nice to see you're back.) ~DJ @manorinthewoods asked: Hahahah, we are BACK! Lovely, I've missed this liveblog. Most in-depth Homestuck liveblog I'm aware of, looking forward to the restart! ~LOSS (29/3/24) @popcornsalty asked: So excited to see you back!!! :D @chaosorchestrator asked: welcome back! It's good to hear that you're planning on getting back into it! I hope things have been going ok for you in the meantime! @necrowyrm asked: HAPPY 4/13 (OR AS THE ENLIGHTENED KNOW IT: 13/4) AND WELCOME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for your votes of confidence, and happy 13/4 to you all!

@rippledphysique asked: Just found this blog and devoured it in a few days. I am selfishly wishing you the best in health and life so that it may return one day… @elkian asked: Hey Sally! Just wanted to wish you well on the recovery, the plague is no joke and I hope you've been able to enjoy some kind improvement. And that 2024 will be kinder, as well. Anonymous asked: wishing you the best in your interim, hopefully you can get a better position where you're not prone to burning out! Anonymous asked: Hope you're doing ok!! I miss seeing your cool liveblog on my dash @kittycatttmattt asked: Poor girl… Got killed by the schedule

Thanks for all the well-wishes, as well. Really, it wasn’t the schedule that was the issue – I just had a lot going on in the background last year. That’s all over now, though!

Anonymous asked: yeah, Homestuck's back babeyyyyy - the site was crashing because of traffic and everything @calamitascalliope asked: You coming back from your break resurrected Homestuck's corpse hggfffdd Anonymous asked: i think this actually is the first time homestuck has updated since you started liveblogging lol - homestuck 2 has been inactive assumed abandoned since december 25th 2020. also happy slightly belated blogiversary btw - you've been delighting us with your journey for two years now! @heliotropopause asked: New Homestuck upd8 just dropped. Apparently. Anonymous asked: what are the odds that you start liveblogging again the same exact day that postcanon comes back from the dead? Anonymous asked: crazy news. so literally just today, october 8th 2023, hussie has officially given complete free license to the newly formed "homestuck independent creative union" (HICU) to create content and monetize it with the homestuck brand however they see fit, with zero creative or financial control from any corporations or even hussie themself, though hussie has said they're available for consultation whenever the HICU wants their input. the HICU seems to be made up of people the community largely has respect for, and the person heading all of this up is James Roach, who is one of the most widely respected individual who has been inolved in homestuck "post canon" (ie. after homestuck itself ended). nobody was expecting any of this, it's completely bonkers. hopes are looking pretty high for homestuck compared to where they were merely a day ago.

Throwback to the day I personally resurrected Homestuck.

Has anything come of this since, actually? I haven’t heard anything about this new comic – although I do scroll in the opposite direction any time I see a reference to Homestuck, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t.

@corporalotherbear asked: What’s your favorite Pokémon?

Contrarian, that I am, I’ll instinctively gravitate to Missingno., if only for the nostalgia factor. Gen 1 glitches were my first real experience with pulling back the curtain of a game’s code, and taking a look at what lies beneath.

My favourite official Pokémon are Porygon-Z, Shedinja, Reuniclus and Metagross!

@heliotropopause asked: Breath/Light is an interesting one, because the ‘Mixolydian’ implies a musical theme, and I thought Time was the musical Aspect. Maybe it’s not that simple. They've all got a musical reference in the name- they are called fraymotifs, after all. Anonymous asked: The Fraymotifs are all musical references actually. E.g. Breath/Time is "Ivories in the Fire", the ivories in question being John's piano keys. A fraymotif is a battle theme. Anonymous asked: ivories in the fire is a musical theme, especifically a Rap term used by Snoop Dogg. So yeah it's connected to Dave Anonymous asked: re: fraymotifs: you pointed out "mixolydian", but that's not the only musical term there. feather "cadence", pneumatic "progression", even fray "motif" itself! hell, the building where you buy these things has an emblem with a crossed sword and music note! so i think this might be less a situation of "need to rethink time aspects association with music" and more "fraymotifs have a musical association also" Anonymous asked: if you look a bit closer at those names, (including the one "fraymotif",) you may realize that "mixolydian" isn't the only musical term referenced…. @galaxa-13 asked: You say the breath/Light Fraymotif implies a musical theme, but they all do! Fraymotif is a portmanteau of "fray" (to fight) and "leitmotif" (repeated musical phrase). Each Fraymotif name implies a musical theme.

Dang it. Yup, they’re all pretty obvious references to music.

I wrote that post the day I was trying to wrangle our family PC into running the Homestuck Collection without lag, so I was a little distracted at the time. Please direct all complaints to Windows XP.

[zapreportsblog]

The Volturi kings meeting reader who is a deep sea mermaid and is just amazed because she didn’t know there was more than just the dark ocean she lived in

❝curiosity killed the cat or mermaid in this case❞

✭ pairing : volturi kings x mermaid reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is what’s known as a mermaid, an mythical creature that humans believed to be made up fairytale stories. Her clan always warned her to never wander to close to the oceans surface for bad things happen to mermaids who do, if only she had listened.

✭ authors note : I already pre wrote this story in my head from when I seen this request :) the first twilight masterlist got filled up so I made another

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) was a mermaid unlike any other in her clan. While her fellow merfolk were content with their deep-sea existence, she had an insatiable curiosity about the world above the ocean's surface. The shimmering sunlight that filtered down from the top always fascinated her, casting dancing patterns of light in the depths where she lived.

However, (Y/N) had been warned time and time again by her clan about the dangers that lurked near the surface. They spoke of mysterious creatures that roamed the shallows, perilous storms that could send a mermaid spiraling into the abyss, and humans who were relentless in their pursuit of the underwater world.

Despite the warnings, her desire to explore the surface world only grew stronger with each passing day. She spent her free moments studying the patterns of light, listening to the songs of seagulls above, and dreaming of what lay beyond the boundary that separated her from the surface.

One fateful day, her curiosity became too powerful to resist. She decided to venture closer to the surface than she ever had before, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. She swam upwards, her tail gliding effortlessly through the water, until she found herself dangerously close to the surface.

As she breached the water's edge and her head broke through to the surface, (Y/N) marveled at the world above. The sensation of the sun warming her skin was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The world was different up here—vast, open, and filled with colors she had never seen in her underwater realm.

But her joy was short-lived. Just as she was about to dive back down to the safety of her underwater home, a sudden, painful tug on her tail sent shockwaves of fear through her. She struggled against an unseen force, but it was too late. (Y/N) had been captured in a fishing net.

Panicking, she thrashed and twisted in the net's grasp, but it held her firmly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized the gravity of her situation. She had ventured too close to the surface, and now she was at the mercy of whatever creature had ensnared her.

As the moon hung high in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the Volturi's ancient castle, Ronaldo, the traveling Norman vampire, stood before the imposing gates, seeking an audience with the Volturi leaders. His request had been granted, and now he wheeled a large, water-filled tank into the dimly lit chamber where the Volturi convened.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the Volturi leaders, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, sat upon their thrones, their crimson eyes piercing the darkness. (Y/N), curled up in the tank, shimmered like a moonlit pearl in the dim light, her beauty and strangeness taking the Volturi by surprise.

Aro, the most enigmatic of the three leaders, leaned forward, his eyes fixated on the captive mermaid. "What do we have here?" he inquired, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Ronaldo, ever the salesman, grinned and began to recount the legends of mermaids from human lore. He spoke of their captivating beauty, their ethereal songs that lured sailors to their doom, and the countless tales of their existence. His storytelling skills were as smooth as his negotiations, and he had the Volturi leaders captivated.

"What is it you desire in exchange for this extraordinary creature?" Aro asked, his gaze never leaving (Y/N).

Ronaldo's eyes gleamed with a mixture of desperation and cunning. "My freedom," he replied without hesitation. "I know you have been hunting me for my past transgressions against your kind. I will hand over the mermaid to you in exchange for my release."

Aro's fingers steepled in thought as he considered the offer. He was intrigued by the prospect of possessing such a rare and mystical creature, and Ronaldo's freedom seemed a small price to pay. "Very well," he agreed. "We have a deal."

Ronaldo breathed a sigh of relief, his gamble having paid off. He knew that his own fate had been hanging by a thread, and the mermaid had become his lifeline.

Once the transaction was completed, Ronaldo left the chamber, the tank left ominously behind him. Unbeknownst to him, Aro had no intention of letting him escape unscathed. The Volturi had their reputation to uphold, and no one defied them without consequences.

After Ronaldo had left the castle, Aro gave a sinister smile. He turned to his loyal guards, Demetri and Felix, and issued a chilling command. "Follow him. Ensure he doesn't make it far. Oh and make sure Ronaldo does not survive his very unfortunate…accident.”

With unwavering obedience, Demetri and Felix departed, their dark forms disappearing into the night as they set out to fulfill Aro's orders, leaving the fate of Ronaldo and the mermaid hanging in the balance.

As the realization dawned that (Y/N) was scared, Marcus, the most taciturn of the Volturi leaders, spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of empathy. "She's terrified," he observed, his eyes focused on the mermaid's curled-up form in the tank.

Aro, however, was not one to be deterred by fear. He was determined to have the mermaid as part of his collection, and her fear was an obstacle he intended to overcome. "Fear won't do," he declared, his voice commanding.

With a flick of his hand, he summoned some of the lowly guards that stood nearby. "Fix up the garden," Aro ordered them. "Prepare a suitable place for our new acquisition."

The guards hurriedly obeyed, scurrying to the Volturi's garden. There, they prepared a large, elegantly designed pond, its waters reflecting the pale moonlight. Once the garden was to Aro's satisfaction, they wheeled the tank containing (Y/N) to the pond's edge and carefully lowered it in.

As soon as the tank was submerged in the saltwater pond, (Y/N) sensed her opportunity for escape. She wasted no time and swiftly swam out of the tank, her lithe form disappearing into the depths of the pond. Her mermaid instincts guided her, and she found solace in the cool, familiar embrace of the saltwater.

Aro, not one to be outwitted, addressed (Y/N) directly, his thoughts projecting into her mind. "Dear mermaid, I mean you no harm. We merely seek your company and your unique presence." His words were accompanied by a sensation of reassurance and curiosity.

But (Y/N) was not easily swayed. Her instincts and her fear of the unknown prevailed. She refused to heed Aro's words, choosing to stay hidden at the pond's bottom, her tail camouflaged among the aquatic plants.

Aro's efforts to cloak her presence and win her trust proved fruitless, and he could only watch as the enigmatic mermaid remained hidden from sight, her secrets and her destiny her own to protect.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) found herself settled in the Volturi's garden, beneath the moonlit sky, surrounded by the grandeur of the ancient castle. The kings of the Volturi had made it a habit to visit her, each with their own approach to her peculiar presence.

Aro, ever the strategist, was persistent in his attempts to communicate with her. He visited the pond regularly, his thoughts reaching out to her. "Dear mermaid," he would say, "I am genuinely curious about your kind. Do you have a name?"

However, (Y/N) remained steadfast in her silence. Her oceanic gaze remained fixed on the pond's depths, her secrets guarded by her enigmatic presence.

Caius, on the other hand, was a man of few words. He would visit the pond and simply stare at her for hours. His crimson eyes bore into her, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny. There was an intensity about him that sent shivers down her spine, but he never spoke a word to her.

It was Marcus, the third and often overlooked leader of the Volturi, who approached (Y/N) in a different manner. He would sit quietly nearby, bringing books from his extensive library. He read out loud to her, his deep voice resonating through the garden.

The books he chose were tales of ancient love and legends of the sea, and he read them with a melancholic grace. He didn't ask questions or seek answers, but his presence was a soothing one. It was as if he understood the mermaid's need for companionship, even if it was only in the form of his voice.

As the nights passed, (Y/N) grew accustomed to the routine of her existence within the Volturi's garden. The vampire kings' visits were as mysterious as they were intriguing, and the ancient castle held more secrets than she could fathom. Yet, she remained a silent enigma, her presence a source of fascination and curiosity for the Volturi leaders.

A month had passed since (Y/N) had been captured by the Volturi, and her time in their garden had settled into a peculiar rhythm. She had grown accustomed to the vampire kings' visits, and although she remained mostly silent, their presence had become a strange sort of companionship.

On this particular evening, as Marcus sat beside the pond with a book in his hands, (Y/N) decided to break her silence. The book in question was an archaeology tome, filled with intricate details about ancient civilizations and their mysterious ruins.

Curiosity had finally gotten the best of her, and she swam up to the surface of the pond, her azure eyes fixed on Marcus. "What is that book about?" she asked, her voice a melodious echo.

Marcus turned to her, his eyes holding a hint of surprise. It was the first time she had spoken in his presence. "It's a book about archaeology," he replied in his deep, soothing voice. "It delves into the mysteries of ancient civilizations and their remarkable ruins."

Intrigued, (Y/N) pressed further. "Tell me more," she urged.

With a nod, Marcus closed the book and set it aside. "This book, in particular, discusses the Mayan ruins of the Holy Land. The Mayans were a fascinating civilization, known for their advanced knowledge of astronomy, mathematics, and intricate city planning."

As he spoke, (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her curiosity piqued by the wealth of knowledge Marcus possessed. The world of the surface, so distant and unknown to her, seemed to hold countless wonders waiting to be explored, and the vampire's words painted vivid images in her mind.

For the first time since her capture, (Y/N) felt a spark of connection, not just to the vampire before her, but to the world above the surface, a world of ancient civilizations and untold stories waiting to be discovered.

The next day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Aro paid his customary visit to the garden. He approached the pond with his usual air of intrigue, expecting the same silent presence from the mermaid.

But as he drew near, (Y/N) surprised him by speaking. Her voice was soft and tinged with a hint of curiosity. "You are back," she said, her eyes fixed on him.

Aro, taken aback by her words, responded in kind, "And you are speaking."

They sat in a brief, somewhat awkward silence, both processing the unexpected turn of events. Aro's fascination with the mermaid had only grown since her arrival, and now her ability to communicate added another layer of intrigue.

After a moment, (Y/N) felt compelled to break the silence once more. She hesitated for a moment before finally revealing, "My name is (Y/N)."

Aro's crimson eyes studied her, a faint smile touching his lips as he absorbed this newfound information. "It is a pleasure to finally know your name, (Y/N)," he replied.

But before any further conversation could unfold, (Y/N) suddenly felt a wave of shyness wash over her. Without another word, she swung her tail and gracefully slipped beneath the surface of the pond, disappearing into the depths once more, leaving Aro alone by the water's edge, pondering the enigma that was the mermaid named (Y/N).

As the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the Volturi's garden, (Y/N) found herself seated on a large rock by the pond. Her mermaid tail glistened as she meticulously cleaned it, her slender fingers running through the scales with care.

Caius, drawn by his usual fascination with the mysterious mermaid, had come to watch her again. He approached her quietly, his crimson eyes fixed on her as he observed her delicate task. But this time, a pressing question weighed on his mind.

"How did you get captured by a coward like Ronaldo?" Caius asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and disdain.

(Y/N) paused in her task, her gaze shifting to meet Caius's piercing stare. She took a deep breath before answering, "My clan has always warned us not to venture too close to the surface. But my curiosity got the best of me, and I swam higher than I should have. That's when Ronaldo captured me."

Caius listened intently to her explanation, his features impassive. He, too, had a sense of disdain for Ronaldo, but he was more interested in understanding (Y/N)'s perspective.

"Do you ever miss your clan?" he asked, the question surprisingly gentle.

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes momentarily clouded with sadness. "Every day," she admitted softly. "I miss the deep ocean and the songs of my kin."

Caius, for all his coldness, seemed to sense the depth of her longing. He didn't press further but simply nodded in understanding. With that, he turned and left the garden, leaving (Y/N) to her quiet contemplation by the pond, as the mysteries of her past and her future continued to intertwine with the enigmatic world of the Volturi.

[grandmother-goblin]

Apotheosis - Chapter 1

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Halsin didn’t know what he had done wrong. One day, everything was fine between him and Zilvira, but then she suddenly started to avoid him all together. So Halsin decided to follow her to Sharess' Caress in hopes of getting a chance to set things right.

Relationships: Halsin x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of past trauma, fantasy prejudices, non-consensual drug use (not between the main characters), drow!Tav.

Notes: A big, huge, thank you to @brabblesblog for beta-reading!

It was only a week ago that Halsin was convinced that Zilvira was interested in him.

There hadn’t been a single shadow of doubt in his mind. In fact, it would have been difficult for him to believe she wasn’t interested in him. That knowledge wasn’t just ego or vanity talking: it was years of experience. 

Zilvira had never said anything outright, but she was far from subtle.

It was in the way her curious, intelligent eyes watched his lips when he spoke. It was the way she always lingered in his tent for a moment after their late night conversations, as if waiting — hoping — for him to initiate something. There was the way she messed with her hair when she saw him approach, the way her fingers ‘accidentally’ brushed against his when they walked side by side, the way she smiled up at him with her cherry red lips, the way they could talk for hours…

It had been a long time since Halsin had treasured someone’s company as much as he did Zilvira’s. 

When he was with her, the weight of his responsibilities sometimes felt light enough that he could forget about them entirely. His failures as Archdruid, everything that happened with Kahn’s, the Shadow Curse… Zilvira had a way of pushing them all to the back of his mind.

If only for a moment, Halsin could pretend that his only concerns were for himself, for her, and for the nature that enveloped them.

With her, he could just be Halsin.

Not an Archdruid. Not a leader. Just Halsin.

And it wasn’t until he met Zilvira that he realized just how long it had been since he felt like he could be himself. Truly himself — without putting on any sort of mask of stoicism and authority expected of druidic leadership.

So when Zilvira suddenly stopped speaking to him, it felt like a part of himself went silent as well.

Their once long, easy, conversations turned monosyllabic, overly polite, and professional. Like she thought they were simply business partners rather than a friend he had grown to cherish. All the warmth that had once emanated from her had become an impenetrable wall of ice — but one that only formed to keep him out.

And he hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

Lanterns illuminated the main street of Wyrm’s Crossing with a warm, orange glow that dulled the silvery light of the moon. The distinct aroma of fried food mixed with the salty sea air. Crowds of people gathered around food carts and outside of taverns, chattering away one another like there weren’t hundreds of refugees waiting to get into the city just a few minutes away. 

Like there weren’t metal monstrosities looming around every corner, watching their every move.

Cities had always made Halsin a bit uncomfortable, but he couldn’t remember the last time one made him feel so unsafe. Between the Bhaalists, the Banites, the Absolute, the Steel Watch, and the Guild, his disquiet was hardly unfounded. 

People stopped to stare at him as he passed through the crowded thoroughfare. Perhaps it was because of his druidic attire — completely standard in the grove to wear soft leathers adorned with nature, but out of place in the city. Or, more likely, they simply stared because of his stature.

He heard some whispers as he passed by. ‘Is that the bear man?’ and ‘I heard there was a giant elf in the city, but gods damn he’s huge!’ 

Nothing he was unaccustomed to hearing. There were certainly worse things he could be semi-famous for, that was for certain. 

Whatever people thought about him did not matter nearly as much as finding Zilvira. Their comments went in one ear and out the other. 

From what Karlach had told him, Zilvira had gone back to Sharess’ Caress; a bar and brothel they had stopped in a few days ago on official business. Apparently, Zilvira was hoping to find Inspector Valeria somewhere in the establishment — probably polishing off a bottle of wine. Last time Zilvira had spoken to Inspector Valeria, the hollyphant had demanded she needed to find more convincing evidence if she wanted to exonerate a tiefling refugee of murdering Father Lorgan.

And Zilvira had done just that. 

Halsin had been under the impression that she’d wait until morning to turn in her findings. Or at least until normal working hours. But when it came to protecting the innocent, Zilvira had never been the patient sort.

Although Zilvira would not have expected him to follow, Halsin wasn’t sure when he would get another chance to catch her alone. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to walk back to camp with him. Then maybe they could finally have a conversation about… 

Well, whatever it was that had gone wrong between them.

Whenever Halsin thought back on the past interactions with her, he couldn’t pinpoint a single thing that would have triggered her change in behavior. At least, nothing that made sense.

One morning, she was fine. He remembered how she smiled up at him as she poured him a cup of tea — a ritual they had shared for weeks. How she asked him about Oliver and Thaniel, saying that she missed them already. How her eyes followed a fuzzy bumblebee as she sipped her tea, oblivious to how he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

It was that morning that Halsin had decided he wanted something more than friendship with her.

But he never got the chance to say something, because by that afternoon she could hardly even look at him.

And the following morning, she had found an excuse to have her tea alone.

A subtle ache gripped his chest when he recalled the moment of rejection. Of course, he tried to ask what was bothering her, but she just gave him a watery smile and said everything was fine.

That was two days ago.

He needed to figure out what was going on with her. Not just for his own sake, but for the sake of everyone else they traveled with. He had made a promise to help with her tadpole, a promise he intended to fulfill, but… did she even still want his help at all?

The bond he felt between them was undeniable, and it. was something he cherished. Besides Thaniel, Zilvira was one of the few people he could truly count as a friend. 

If she was pushing him away after everything they had been through together, there had to be a reason why.

Although several people lingered outside of Sharess’ Caress, there fortunately wasn’t a line to get in. If there had been, he probably would have waited outside since he wasn’t there for any of the services the place offered. Under different circumstances, he might partake in some of the indulgences. 

It had been a long, long time since he had done such a thing.

Tobacco smoke mixed with a myriad of sweetly sour aromas of perfumes and ale, barely masking the scent of too many bodies packed into the establishment. Though the outside air had been pleasantly warm — nice enough that he could wear his sleeveless leathers — inside it turned thick, humid, and almost oppressive. The door had barely closed behind him before he felt sweat beginning to coat his skin.

Halsin glanced around the taproom, hoping that he would be lucky enough to spot Zilvira right away. If she was in the room, she would stick out like a white swan among common mallards. It was difficult not to notice her. 

At least, it was difficult for him not to notice.

“Well, well,” a sultry, feminine voice came from somewhere to his left. The owner of Sharess’ Caress, in her spot behind the reception counter. Mamzell Amira, if he remembered correctly — the woman who hardly cared at all when Zilvira informed her that one of her employees had been brutally murdered simply because it affected her earnings. “I was hoping to see you again, handsome.”

Halsin did not quite share her sentiment, but he gave her a tight smile in greeting. 

It wasn't completely her fault. Cities had a way of turning even the kindest hearts callous — it was often the only way people could survive.

The Mamzell leaned across the counter in a way that put her cleavage on full display. “I’ve loved plenty of elves back in my day, but none of your — ” her eyes roamed up and down his body, pausing at his chest, biceps, and a little lower than what was polite “ — physique.”

Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at her flirtations. It was just an act as part of her business, so he knew not to take the comment too personally. But still, it was tiring to hear variations of the same observations from everyone.

When he thought about it, he realized Zilvira never made any sort of comments regarding his size. She never made him feel odd for being larger than the average elf. At the very worst, she occasionally asked for his help retrieving something that she was too short to reach. But nothing beyond that.

“You look like a man who has seen a great many things,” Mamzell Amira continued as she rested her chin in her hands, “but I’m certain Sharess’ Caress can show you a great many more. I’m sure we have something that would interest someone of your experience.”

“Perhaps another time,” Halsin replied diplomatically. “I’m actually here looking for someone. A young drow woman with white hair, cut about chin-length, and lips red like cherries.”

“‘Lips red like cherries,’” she echoed as the corner of her mouth tugged into a teasing smirk. “You sound smitten, you poor thing.”

Maybe Mamzell Amira had a point, but it was an accurate description. Halsin never once saw Zilvira without her bright red lipstick — she jokingly called it her ‘war paint’. Sometimes, he found himself wondering how often she had to reapply it. Or if it would come off when she kissed— 

Halsin pushed the thought aside. Focus. No point in thinking about Zilvira’s lips when she wouldn’t even use them to speak to him. 

Mamzell Amira tapped her finger to her cheek as if in thought. “You know, I’m not supposed to answer questions like that. Customer confidentiality and all of that. But since you helped me out before….” She cocked her chin toward the curtained area behind her and gave him a wink. “If anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

Halsin inclined his head toward her gratefully, tension draining from his muscles with the knowledge that Zilvira was here. He could finally talk with her.

Heart fluttering in his chest, Halsin made his way toward the back room.

***

Wine wasn’t helping.

Resting her elbows on the sticky, wooden table she had been sitting at for the last hour, Zilvira ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled slowly. She had hoped that the alcohol in her system and a topless tiefling gyrating to music on a stage not ten feet away would have been enough of a distraction. 

It should have been enough of a distraction, considering she had never been someplace like Sharess’ Caress until a few days ago. But as excited as she was to experience all that the city had to offer, her mind kept drifting back to Halsin.

Zilvira took another sip of her wine. She couldn’t avoid him forever, nor did she want to, it was just that — How the hells was she supposed to pretend everything was normal after what he had said?

Gods, she felt like such an idiot. 

She had thought they had a connection. A real connection. She had thought it was mutual. There was always a softness to his eyes that made her want to melt, the gentleness of his words, the comfort of his presence.

He made her feel safe, and she thought at the very least she might provide the same comfort to him.

But she had been mistaken.

Zilvira pushed her wine goblet toward the edge of the table, not wanting to take another drink but needing something to do with her hands other than pull her hair out. It was only her second drink, and she was just starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. 

Normally, she didn’t resort to drinking when she had a problem. She liked to face things head on but….

She didn’t know what to do. 

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Truly, she hadn’t. Hells, she wished she hadn’t, because then she would be having tea with Halsin under a canopy of stars rather than cheap wine in a dingy taproom.

Ignorance was rarely her friend, but Zilvira longed for it at that moment. 

It wasn’t like she could just pretend she hadn’t overheard the tail end of Halsin’s conversation with Shadowheart. And it wasn’t like she could bring up what she had heard to him without admitting that she had inadvertently listened in on a private discussion. She shouldn’t hold something Halsin said against him if his words were never meant for her ears.

Though, she wished she had learned that he had some history with drow another way. 

A long and unpleasant history.

From the bit of the conversation she had heard, Halsin apparently had been a captive of a drow noble house for a few years. He said that seeing the drow twins at the brothel had reminded him of his ‘misspent youth’ — that drow seemed to be as much of a novelty on the surface as he had been  in the Underdark.

Based upon her limited knowledge of the drow in the Underdark, it was all too easy to parse Halsin’s words.

No matter how Halsin tried to play off his years of captivity as if it was nothing but the mistake of a young druid, there was some resentment to his tone. 

From the sound of it, whatever wound the drow had inflicted upon him seemed to still be a scab. Not quite a scar.

When that scab healed, there was no way of knowing how bad the scar would be beneath. Raised and angry, a light indentation, or just a faint discoloration one could only spot in the right light.

Zilvira’s first instinct had been to express her sympathies and offer an ear to listen. If the conversation had ended there, she might have done just that. 

But then he said a few words, words that sounded so light and easy in that deep timbre of his, that struck her like a sharp blade to the heart.

“I count myself lucky that I made it out of the Underdark alive,” Halsin had said matter-of-factly. “Cruelty comes to Lolth’s followers as easily as breathing. It’s part of a drow’s nature.”

“Surely that statement doesn’t include Zilvira?” Shadowheart had replied with a playful edge to her tone. Like she already knew the answer had to be some variation of ‘Of course not!’

“She’s a drow, is she not?” Halsin had said instead, without a moment of hesitation or a hint of humor. 

Zilvira had expected to hear a follow up. Something to indicate that Halsin didn’t think of her as cruel. 

But no. 

He left it at that.

Zilvira closed her eyes and willed the hurt and confusion of the memory away. 

The monks had warned her that the world outside of the monastery would treat her differently — that most people would be wary toward her because of her ancestry. It was part of the reason Zilvira had rarely ventured far from that hidden grove where the Eldathian monks had raised her. 

She knew why the surface world was wary of drow, but she thought that if people would just give her a chance they would —

Zilvira startled when the table jostled beneath her. Quickly, she grabbed the edge of the table to try to hold it steady before it toppled over and she could only watch as her goblet of wine teetered off the edge. 

A lightning quick hand snatched the goblet before it crashed to the floor. “Whoa!” a man exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to bump into you there.”

With his hand poised over the mouth of the goblet, he set the wine safely in the center of the table. “That could have been bad,” he said with an adorable laugh that immediately drew Zilvira’s attention to his face.

He was a young man. Neatly trimmed blonde hair, clear skin, bright eyes, and dressed in a Flaming Fist uniform. He gave her an easy smile as his eyes met hers.

Zilvira cleared her throat and averted her gaze, hoping the young man didn’t notice the dampness in her eyes. It was one thing to cry over Halsin alone, but she didn’t want to do it in front of a stranger.

“Good catch.” She picked up the goblet of wine and brought it to her lips. There wasn’t much left, and she swallowed the remainder of the dry red along with her impending tears. She set the empty goblet on the table with a little laugh, “Can’t spill it if it’s empty.”

The blond man rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a sheepish smile. “Can I get you another one?”

Zilvira shook her head. “No, thank you,” she replied amicably, though she was flattered by the offer. “I think I’ve had enough for one evening.”

“Are you leaving?” he asked, his brows raised as a small pout grew on his lips. Then he cleared his throat. “I saw you across the room and — well, I was hoping to have a drink with you. You’re really stunning and I would never have forgiven myself if I didn’t at least say ‘hello.’”

Her cheeks heated at the compliment, and Zilvira pushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. The blond man wasn’t really her type, but he wasn’t unattractive by any means.

Maybe a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Talking to a friendly stranger seemed preferable to drinking alone. Besides, maybe the young man could help her keep her mind off of Halsin. Even if it was only for a few moments.

“I’m not leaving just yet,” Zilvira said and nodded to the empty seat across from her. “What’s your name?”

The man beamed at her as he told her his name: Jack. He pulled the chair around the table so he could sit closer to her, crowding her personal space in a way that seemed more over-friendly than overbearing.

Jack, Zilvira quickly learned, was the type of person who was extremely easy to talk to. He had a boyish charm about him — a playful innocence in his eyes and a smile that probably got him out of all sorts of trouble. More than that, he seemed very polite. 

Sweet, even.

Conversation came easy to them. Even with all the people crowding the room, Jack only had his eyes on her as he hung on her every word. Like she was the most interesting woman he had ever had the privilege of speaking to.

Yet a few minutes into the conversation, a sense of uneasiness came over her. It almost felt like she had had too much to drink, but… she didn’t have that much to drink. Did she?

She looked at her empty goblet, but found that her eyes were unable to focus on it. It doubled, then her vision went dark for a moment, only for it to come back a second later.

Zilvira sat back in her seat, trying to hold her head high in an attempt to look sober as Jack continued to talk. It was strange. She never had a problem holding her drink before, but something didn’t feel quite right.

Perhaps there had been a drink mix up and her wine was stronger than she had realized. 

A warm hand rested gently on her forearm, a featherlight touch that felt oddly comforting. She wanted to lean into it. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jack asked, his brow furrowed with something like concern. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about his expression seemed off.

Or, perhaps, it was just another side effect of the alcohol. 

Shaking her head, Zilvira attempted to stand. The room blurred as she got to her feet, like she had been spinning around in circles, and she quickly sat back down. 

“I think I had too much to drink,” she said, her voice echoing in her own ears. “I should probably get some water.”

Yeah, that was probably it. A little bit of water and she would be feeling better in no time.

“Here, let me help you up,” Jack said and wrapped his arm around her, providing her some support as she tried to stand again.

The corners of her vision darkened, but it wasn’t as bad as standing up on her own. She leaned against Jack’s chest, inhaling the sweet and spicy scent of his cologne.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “I don’t normally get like this.”

Jack laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t worry. It happens all the time around here. You’ll get no judgment from me.”

Even with his assistance, it felt like she was walking underwater with every step. Almost as if she could just tap her foot and float away. 

Zilvira blinked hard as if it would make the room stop spinning. “I should probably get back to my camp.”

“In this condition?” Jack asked incredulously as he walked her toward the curtain that led to the main tap room. “You should probably lie down and drink some water. I have a room here. I’m happy to let you stay until you sober up a bit.”

Laying down sounded nice.

It sounded really, really, nice.

Amidst the blackness and spinning of her vision and the volume of the music surrounding them, Zilvira almost didn’t notice the alarm bells ringing in her subconscious.

Something was wrong but… she couldn’t quite place what it was.

Each one of Zilvira’s steps felt huge, like she was trying to step over a puddle. She glanced down at her feet, but her steps seemed normal. At least, from what she could tell. She was at least keeping pace with Jack, so hopefully she wasn’t walking like an utter lunatic in public. 

Being drunk was embarrassing enough as it was.

Jack stopped suddenly, pulling her to a halt alongside him. “Oh, excuse me, sir,” she heard him say. “Sorry, my girl had a bit too much to drink. If I could just get by you —”

His girl? Wait —

“Your girl?” An all too familiar voice echoed in her thoughts, drawing her attention away from her feet.

Halsin.

Even if her eyes couldn’t focus, she would know that voice anywhere. When the black spots cleared from her vision, she saw Halsin standing before them with a deep furrow to his brow. 

Gods, why did it have to be Halsin of all people? What the hells was she supposed to say to him?

“Funny you say that,” Halsin continued, his expression like a brewing storm cloud. “Because I’ve been traveling with Zilvira for weeks and I know this is her first time in the city.”

Jack’s hand tightened around her upper arm, making her wince. “It was just an expression, big guy,” he replied coolly. “We were just getting to know each other and — ”

“ — She is in no state to be in a place like this with a stranger.” Halsin crossed his arms over his chest and took a single step closer, forcing Jack to tilt his head back to look up at him. “I’m her friend. I’ll take care of her from here.”

Jack’s hand was like a manacle on her bicep, but it was probably the only thing keeping her standing upright. 

“Listen, you creep,” he said, his voice loud and projecting as he rammed a finger at Halsin’s chest. “We don’t know you, so leave us alone and find someone else to bother.”

Zilvira could barely keep track of the conversation. Her thoughts were like clouds that drifted through her mind, slipping through her fingers every time she tried to catch one. 

But Halsin was right — she knew that much.

She weakly tried to extract herself from Jack’s grip, but felt herself losing her balance. She latched onto his Flaming Fist uniform to keep herself from falling face first onto the floor. 

“He’s my friend,” she muttered as she leaned heavily on Jack. “I should go back with him.”

For a moment, Zilvira wondered if she said anything at all or just thought of saying something. Gods, what was wrong with her head? She hadn’t been this drunk — well, she had never been this drunk.

Adjusting his grip on her arm, Jack pulled her tight against his side. Then when he spoke again, it was with a firm, authoritative, voice that carried over the music. “She just said she doesn’t know you. Stop trying to harass her.”

Zilvira could feel eyes on her and… she realized she didn’t care. Normally she would have been mortified to be the center of attention in such a way, but at that moment she just wanted to lay down and get away from all the noise.

A gentle warmth brushed against her fingers, and she glanced down to see a large, suntanned hand littered with whittling scars held out toward her.

Halsin’s. 

“We should get going,” he said to her, ignoring Jack entirely. “I’ll walk you back to camp.”

“Don’t touch her.” Jack shoved Halsin’s chest with his free hand, jostling her with the movement.

With feline-like reflexes, Halsin grasped Jack’s wrist. “Last warning,” he said, his voice low and his expression thunderous. “Let Zilvira go. Now.”

The next thing she knew, that hand holding her upright had vanished and she heard the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh as she crumpled to the ground.

Then she heard a roar.

---

Next Chapter

[pillowspace]

csd ask about that cool concept you had for the end of the fic? may we know any more about it? :3

OH. HEY WAIT, DID I EVER SAY WHAT THAT WAS? I don't actually know what you're referring to exactly, but I can guess

Y/N was never actually from that universe. The CSD universe. They were never even from it. I don't know if you remember the frankenfate au but this was a little secret I held that made frankenfate funny to me, because... because Vale kinda was from a soulmate AU. It just wasn't of the soulmarks or red string variety.

Y/N had a destiny in a modern mer!DCA world, but they were taken from their universe as a toddler to eventually give Sun and Moon a weakness years down the line. I... I know it was William Afton's doing, I think Henry had trapped him someplace and he needed the power of multiple gods to escape or something like that? So he was using Eclipse to get his way, but he secretly had plans to also kill Eclipse once it was all done? That was probably it??

Being brought into this universe, it was like... forcefully jamming together two soulmates when Y/N's narrative was meant for a different Sun entirely. Y/N would find this out later, and although it'd be horrifying to them, they'd eventually decide that it didn't matter if this bond was planned with ill intent, they cared about Sun and Moon now so they had to HELP them! Once William or whatever the hell I planned to call him had trapped both Sun and Moon and gotten what they needed out of Y/N, William would just... send them back off. You've completed their role in this universe. Bye bye now.

So Y/N would've been sent back to their original world. Lost and horribly confused. They were only human. They didn't know how to go back. They're still reeling from realizing that they had been a trap since the moment they met Sun. They could just... stay here, even if they're too scared to approach their own family. Knowing how their life was meant to play out, it's not hard for Y/N to stick close to the sea and soon meet the Sun and Moon they were fated to meet. And it feels like something's clicked, they had always been drawn to water, but they also feel so... empty. Their wants conflict with their fate because a god had decided to tamper with it. They miss their universe, this isn't the home they were raised in, they want to go back!!

And then they meet Michael and Elizabeth. Two gods who Y/N had met in godly disguise before, so they don't recognize the siblings. But Michael recognizes them, and after some conversations, Michael picks up on the fact that Y/N isn't some parallel version but instead the very same person he had met before. So Michael makes an offer. I can't get you directly back to your universe, it doesn't work like that. But it does work like a staircase. Each step is a different universe, and if you'll let me help you get through each world having fulfilled a goal, you'll be able to move on to the next. At the end of that journey will be the universe you truly see as home.

Y/N agrees, and later has a heartfelt goodbye with the mers. I'll... note that the mers don't really talk, so it was just Y/N thanking them, apologizing, and wishing them well in life.

Truthfully, I know I had a reason for how this happens, but I can't remember it: CSD Eclipse also travels with Y/N. They're there, I can't remember why 😭 But their dynamic is... easier then. The two (three?) of them bicker back and forth, but that's a lot healthier than whatever Eclipse had going on previously.

Fun fact!! One of the universes they would end up in on their journey back to the CSD Universe would actually have Sunna and Meno. Y/N would've gotten to meet them separately. Eclipse would've had... feelings about that universe.

I didn't want to drive in the idea of soulmates being this big and necessary thing, so Y/N would eventually come to learn after their happy ending with the gods that the mers are now happy with friends of their own. Everyone got what they wanted, even if the whole rhythm of life got disrupted into a new story.

SO? SURPRISE? CSD Y/N WAS FROM A MER UNIVERSE THE ENTIRE TIME? I hope this is coherent, I'm fighting for my life to sound even remotely coherent in any of this

[razberrypuck]

all the discrepancies and the confusion around which god gillion is the chosen one of make complete sense now actually. he was not "chosen" by aster, or lunadeyus, or the leviathans; but blessed by all three, born from the egg of a sea god and hatched in an eclipse, and those around him only picked up on the power they were attuned to. the elders and the sea gods, the priests of the moon goddess, star and the sun goddess.

none of these deities chose him for this task. none of them made the conscious decision to burden a mortal being with this immense responsibility. the sea god did not know this would be its final egg. aster and lunadeyus did not need a mortal to settle an argument that may not have happened to begin with, may just be myth created by the followers of sun and moon. they had no hand in this.

but, for the one chosen, they may extend a hand, to gift him whatever power he may need to get through this.

[agent-grey-fics]

Who we are | Paul Lahote | Part 5

Paired: Paul Lahote x reader Wordcount: 1300 Summary: Paul and y/n attend a wedding of Paul's ex, and feelings of jealousy surface

Writers note: Here is part 5 of 'who we are', Previous parts: part 1 | part 2 | Part 3 | part 4

Part 6 coming soon.

Three months later

You and Paul tried to spend some time together, tried being friends again. It was awkward in the beginning but it became easier over time. Today, however, was a strange day. You were invited to the wedding of Jake's sister, Rachel who was also Paul's ex. You didn't quite know how to act, you were so uncomfortable with the situation. You knew that the universe assigned Paul to you, you belonged together but somehow being at Rachel’s wedding made you insecure. You knew their history, he loved her at one point and he only came to you because of a supernatural bond. It stung

The gentle sea breeze played with your hair as you took your seat, they had chosen a beachside wedding ceremony. The chairs were arranged in neat rows on the sandy aisle, and you found yourself guided by the pack to a seat next to Paul. As you sat side by side, the tension between you was palpable, an unspoken acknowledgement of what was going on.

Rachel, adorned in a stunning white gown, stood under the flower-adorned arbour with her brother Jacob. The ceremony was set against the backdrop of the setting sun, casting a warm glow over the beach. Your gaze involuntarily flickered towards Paul, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. The pack had strategically placed the two of you together, a subtle reminder of the complexities that lingered beneath the surface.

As Rachel exchanged vows with her new partner, Thomas, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy as you caught the fleeting glances exchanged between Paul and Rachel. The unspoken history between them lingered in the air, and you found yourself caught between the joy of Rachel's wedding and the jealousy burning inside your chest. The ceremony unfolded with the rhythmic crash of waves providing a natural soundtrack. Your attention alternated between the heartfelt vows and the subtle interplay of emotions between Paul and Rachel. You couldn't decipher the look they shared, but it left a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. You were jealous. You knew that they dated for a longue time but you never knew how things ended, you made a mental note to ask one of the boys if they knew what had happened. 

Once the vows were exchanged, applause erupted, and you joined in the celebration.  As the crowd dispersed for the reception, you found yourself standing up from your seat to join the festivities. Paul did the same. Before he had the chance to walk away you grabbed his hand. He looked down and softly squeezed you hand in a reassuring gesture as he took of his sunglasses to give you a wink. 

The beach reception was a lively affair, with laughter, music, and the scent of saltwater lingering in the air. The two of you observed Rachel and Thomas sharing their first dance, the couple seemingly lost in the magic of the moment. The pack surrounded them, creating a circle of joy.

Later in the evening, as the dance floor came alive, you found yourself face to face with Paul. The music played a melodic tune, and Paul extended his hand, inviting you to join him for a dance. Hesitant, you  accepted, and you swayed to the rhythm of the music. In the warmth of the night, with the moon casting its glow on the beach, you danced in a silence filled with unspoken words. As you moved together, you couldn't ignore the weight of the bond that connected you. The proximity brought a mix of comfort and uncertainty, and you finally broke the silence.

‘Paul, what does this all mean?’ you asked, voice barely audible over the music. Paul paused for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. ‘Y/n, I understand this is a lot to take in. It means whatever you want it to. If you want to go back to your old life, I would understand. The bond... it's not something everyone can handle.’ You didn’t respond immediately. ‘But everyone I know found a way to work their one out, I think we could to. I would do everything for you to see you happy.’ The sincerity in Paul's eyes struck a chord within you. The complexities of the supernatural world, the unspoken history with Rachel, and the undeniable connection with Paul left you feeling torn. For a moment, you considered the possibility of stepping away, of returning to a life untouched by the supernatural. You could go back to Phoenix, pretending that nothing ever happened. You felt a sting in your heart, you knew you couldn't leave him behind. ‘

Paul, still holding you in a gentle embrace, sensed your uncertainty. He stopped dancing, and he looked into your eyes, a mixture of understanding and sincerity in his gaze. ‘I would be anything you want me to be. I can give you some space if you want that.’ ‘Paul,’ youbegan, your voice soft yet filled with a myriad of emotions, ‘I want to be here, but I don't know how to navigate this. The imprint bond, your history with Rachel… It's a lot, and I'm not sure how to handle it all.’

Paul nodded, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. ‘I get it, Y/n but me and Rachel are history.’ You sighed. ‘Then what were those looks?’ He shrugged. 'We were together for a long time, but the moment I saw you after my first time shifting changed everything. She knew I couldn't stay away from you, that she didn't stand a chance.' A soft smile hung on his lips. ‘No one compares to you.’  He gently stroked your cheek. Your gaze met Paul's, searching for reassurance. ‘I want to stay,’ you confessed, ‘but I don't know what that means for us. How do we handle this imprint thing? We tried to be friends and we both know it only works for certain aspects.’ Paul sighed, a mix of contemplation and resignation in his expression.  ‘It's complicated. Imprinting is like a force pulling us together, and we can't just ignore it. But we also have a choice in how we navigate it.’

The weight of Paul's words settled in the night air, and you felt the gravity of the situation. ‘What do you want, Paul?’ you asked, eyes searching for clarity. Paul hesitated, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. ‘I want you to have a choice, Y/n. If staying means too much upheaval in your life, I'd understand. The imprint bond is strong, but it doesn't mean you're trapped. We can figure this out together.’ You sighed. ‘But what do you want?’ He shifted his gaze to you. ‘You, I want you.’

The sincerity in Paul's words resonated with you. The imprint bond was a force beyond your control, but it didn't erase your agency. The uncertainty lingered, but a glimmer of determination sparked within you. Deep down you knew you felt more than friendship for him, you had a connection. The flirting before was proof of it. You wanted to give this a chance. ‘I want to stay,’ you admitted, your voice firm. ‘I want to understand this world, our connection. But I need time, we need to take one step at a time Paul.’ A smile crept on his lips. He looked into your eyes, a gentle gaze full of love, and you could only stare back. 'We'll figure it out together, we have each other.' You nodded. 'Don't move.' He gently leaned forward, immensely slow afraid of scaring you away. 'Paul.' 'Shhh.' He placed his lips feather lightly on yours. When he leaned back again you followed him, not wanting the kiss to stop. He laughed softly and placed his hands on your cheeks. His lips found yours again, a little wilder than the kiss before. You were going to figure it out together.

[sleepinginmygrave]

⋆˚࿔ jupiter's aquarium 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

300 followers celebration<3

welcome to jupiter's aquarium!!

thank you guys so so much from 300 followers omg, i can't believe so many individuals are following me and interested in my silly life hjjhjjh i love you guys so much<33

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this will end on the first of july! (i think, probably)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this is heavily inspired by @urbanflorals' event because it was just too gorgeous hjgjhh (i really hope it doesn't bother you oml)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ you can request as many as you want! (just keep it reasonable hjhhjh)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚it might take me some time to fullfill your request, please be patient! i also probably won't answer them in order, i'll just answer some when i have the time :]

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this is for followers and mutuals only<3

intro post

welcome to our aquarium!! what creature do you wanna see? let me show you what we have!!

⋆｡˚[ sea creatures ]⋆｡˚

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {eels} ࿐ྂ i'll make a small pinterest board inspired by you

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {sturgeons} ࿐ྂ i'll recommend one or a few musical artists/songs i like for you

please precise what type of music you listen to!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {moon jellies}࿐ྂ i'll make you a moodboard or a stimboard for whatever you want

please precise what you want the stim/moodboard to be about! it can be inspired by you, a character, an animal etc (also precise if you want a stim or a moodboard!)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {octopus} ࿐ྂ i'll (try to) draw you something!

please tell me what you want me to draw! it will be shitty btw, please don't pick that /j this one is probably the one that'll take me the longer tho, just so you know

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {manta rays}࿐ྂ i'll talk to you about whatever's happening in my life (or just yap about my hyperfixations really)

(i am an Oversharer when it comes to my own life so this is great because i'm allowed to yap hehe)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {tropical fishes}࿐ྂ i'll assign you an animal based on you/your blog

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {turtles}࿐ྂ i'll tell you three things i associate with you

⋆｡˚[ sharks ]⋆｡˚ (mutuals only)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {blacktip reef sharks}࿐ྂ i'll tell you what we would do together if we met irl

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {whale sharks}࿐ྂ i'll write you a letter :>

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {lemon sharks}࿐ྂ i'll assign you one of my favorite animal!!

the same as tropical fishes tbh but more personal :3

queue ; 13 visits to go

we hope you had a nice time observing our residents!! thank you so much for passing by<33 don't hesitate to come back!!

again thank you guys so so much, i'm so glad for all the friends i made here<33

⋆｡˚tagging⋆｡˚

⋆｡˚@urbanflorals ; tysm for letting me use your event as an inspo, i almost copied the presentation hjhgjhghh it's so so gorgeous

other moots!!; @bloophasarrived @starmanbutitsregulusblack @aesthetic-writer18 @this-is-me-lolol @in-the-sweet-november-rain @daydream-of-a-wallflower @ev-enhotterthanyou @silence-between-seconds @skeelly @thedvilsinthedetails @marylily-my-beloved @a-wondering-thought @a-beautiful-fool @sceirlose @hansenesque @holdmyteaplease @rorythinks @niallermybabe

(i don't have the energy to tag a lot of people sorry, also please tell me if you didn't wanted to be tagged!!)