#angst with an unhappy ending

[topgunruinedme]

Sneak peak

@marvelshauntedhouseBecuase you love me so much...

Maverick crash-lands behind enemy territory, with one name in mind.

He swallowed thickly, eyes dropping down to his pack just to the left of his foot. He had to keep moving, he had to. He couldn't give up now. He couldn't let them win. “Come Mav” he muttered, slurring slightly to himself, “You can do this. Gotta get back. Gotta check on Brad's”.  Brads. Bradley, Baby bird. His kid.  He moved, staggering wincing as he peered uneasy over the side in which he had almost fallen into. Fear tugging at his chest attempting to paralyse his body.  “He needs you. Hurry up”.  He had to- he had to- he had to- “Do you want him standing at your funeral?” He couldn't stand the idea of Bradley clad in his uniform with that thousand mile stare, the same one Carole had worn when they buried Nick, the same one that Bradley had worn as a young tween as they lowered his mother into the ground. He knew the boy would clenched his jaw the same way he did when he was suppressing his emotions, how he would grind his molars, bush back his rage, and try to act as he was expected, as a Lieutenant honouring his Captain. Not a godfather. Standing before a closed coffin with nobody inside of it, where Bradley would have to step forward and slam wings into his coffin as if nothing between them had changed because he had never been able to bring himself to change his will.  He couldn't do that to him. Bradley wouldn’t be slamming wings into his coffin. He won't be standing there to accept his flag, to raise his chin as his 21 gun salute sounded through the graveyard. He won't be there to see the final jet pull up and away as it flies into the heavens.  He had to get back to Bradley.  With a final decision, ignoring the searing pain that grew each time his chest expanded or the taste of copper on his tongue, he kicked the bag down off the wing into the snow, trying to put it as far from the flames as he could so he could patch himself up afterwards.  “Keep Moving!” he urged “Keep moving”.  Then he jumped.  Stomach lurching, twisting and cramping as he went airborne. Feet crashing into the snow crumbling under him as he dropped forward into a clumsy roll where he stopped haltingly on his back, winded,  all energy sapped from him as his neck snapped back and ribs cracked with a sharp snap and a howl of pain.

[letitiaslabyrinth]

DIDN'T DESERVE

A/N: this did not turn out the way i expected it too at all. anyways ignore all mistakes cause this aint proof read word count: 1.7k+

“Shuri, how come you ain’t tell me where you was last night?” Shuri's girlfriend, Imani said, irritation in her voice.

Shuri shrugs. “I was with Riri-”

Imani rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Of course you was with her. The two of yall might as well date with the amount of times yall see each other.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?”

“You spend more time with your,” She makes air quotes, “‘best friend’ than you do your girlfriend, Shuri. You don’t see an issue with that?”

Shuri was confused. Yeah, her and Riri spent time together but they didn’t spend that much time together, right? Whether the answer was yes or not, Shuri loved Imani and would choose her over anyone and everyone.

“I’m sorry, Ima. I’ll spend more time with you, I promise. How about we go on a date tonight?”

Imani brushed her off, still annoyed. “I don’t wanna go out, Shuri, I want you to stop hanging out with Riri. Period.”

“Okay,” Shuri says with no hesitation. She wants to make her girlfriend happy and if that means she and Riri can’t hang out anymore then so be it.

“Good.” Imani kisses Shuri on the forehead and goes to the bathroom.

Shuri’s phone goes off twice. They’re messages from Riri. Shuri doesn’t bother reading them when she types: “We can’t hang out anymore.” and blocks Riri’s number. It stung her heart a little bit but what else could Shuri do? Imani’s her first girlfriend and she just wants to keep her happy.

Shuri gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen. She opens the pantry, taking out a bag of Doritos and opens the fridge, taking out a carton of juice. She pours some in a cup before putting it back and making her way to the living room. She sets her snack and drink down and turns on the T.V. She falls asleep waiting for Imani to come out the bathroom.

When Shuri wakes up, she can feel a hand running through her hair. She looks up and it’s Imani.

“You sleep good?” She asks.

Shuri hums, stretching slightly. “What time is it?”

Imani checks her phone, “6:32, why?”

“I have a meeting with the council at 7.” Shuri groans and gets up slowly. She finishes her juice from earlier and kisses Imani on the forehead. “I’ma go get ready. I’ll see you later tonight?”

“I made plans so prolly not,” Imani says and goes back on her phone.

Shuri’s the first one in the throne room, as usual, but Riri was close behind her.

“Shuri, can we talk?” She says, pulling Shuri to the side.

“No. Didn’t you get my text?”

“No, I did, I’m just wondering why I got it. And so outta the blue, too. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened, Riri. I just don’t want any kind of relationship with you that isn’t strictly professional. Aren’t we only supposed to be colleagues, anyway?”

“Seriously? Shuri, you can't be serious right now! Are you at least gonna tell me what I did?”

Shuri notices some of the Elders coming in. “Leave it alone, Williams. I’ve said what I’ve said.” She walks away and sits on the throne, waiting for the other Elders to come in. 

They discussed the safety of Wakanda, the Panther and Ironheart suits, and the new buildings that were being constructed in Wakanda. Then Shuri went to the lab to work for hours.

It was around 11pm when Shuri made it back to her and Imani’s place and she was tired. She was expecting to find Imani in bed but she had forgotten that she said she’d made plans. The apartment was dark and lonely without another person there. Shuri didn’t like it. She turned on all the lights and put on a random show for some background noise while she took a shower. It was 11:30 when she was done. She was so exhausted from today that she didn’t even bother changing into clothes. Once her body touched that bed, that was it, lights out. 

“Shuri!” Shuri wakes up to Imani shaking her. “The bed is wet because of you! How am I supposed to sleep!?”

“The couch,” Shuri deadpans. Imani waited for Shuri to say she was joking but she wasn’t. It’s not like there was anywhere else for her to sleep other than on the couch.

“Why don’t you sleep on the couch?” Imani says, rolling her eyes.

Shuri groans and sits up on her elbows. She looks at the clock on her bedside table then back at Imani. “It’s 2 in the morning right now, Ima. I am tired. There’s no point in me moving when you’re the one complaining. You said the ‘whole bed’ is wet so go sleep on the couch.” And with that, she turns her back to Imani and goes back to sleep, ignoring the angry muttering from her girlfriend.

It had been about a week and a half since Shuri told Imani to sleep on the couch that night but Imani took it personally and has been sleeping on the couch ever since. Shuri didn’t even remember what she said since she was so tired but she assumed it was bad since her and Imani have barely even been talking unless they absolutely have to.

“Are you hungry?” Shuri asked Imani from the kitchen. No response. Shuri rolled her eyes and went over to her girlfriend, standing in front of her. “Can you just tell me why you’re ignoring me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should remember. It’s not my fault your memory is shit.”

“And it’s not my fault that you’re having this one-sided ass fight over something I don’t even fucking remember, Imani. We're dating, aren’t we? We’re supposed to be able to talk to one another when we have issues but instead you're pushing me away and ignoring me.”

“You were rude and inconsiderate, Shuri. You slept in the middle of the bed, with your towel on, making the bed wet, and then you told me to sleep on the couch.”

Shuri sat down, rubbing her eyebrow. “So, where exactly were you planning on sleeping, again?”

“What?”

“I mean, I’m just saying. From what you just told me, the entire bed was wet, somehow, so where did you actually plan on sleeping?”

“It’s not what you said, Shuri, it’s how you fucking said it. You didn’t even care about me enough to sleep on your side of the damn bed.”

“I was in a meeting from 7 to 11 pm, Imani. I was tired and you woke me up to complain so my bad for my tone?”

“Oh, please, what’s oh, so, tiring about sitting down and talking about things that need to be fixed or done in Wakanda?”

“It wasn’t just the meeting, Imani. I also had to go to the lap and fix some things on my and Riri’s suit-”

“Oh, really?” Imani scoffed, “So, what? Riri can’t fix her own damn suit now?”

“She doesn’t live here, Imani. She came here for one week for personal reasons, not to work.”

“She could’ve carried the suit behind her and worked on it from that scrappy lil garage of hers in Chicago.”

“I told her months ago that her suit cannot leave Wakanda, which you would know if you actually listened to me when I talked.”

“I listen when you talk, Shuri. It’s you who never listens to me and what I say. The fact that you’re still doing ‘favors’ for Riri proves that.”

“Excuse me? Me fixing the very creation that I helped her make isn’t me helping her. Me and Riri haven't even spoken since I told we can’t hang out anymore, so you can go somewhere else with that misinformation.”

“I don’t appreciate this tone of yours.”

“And I don’t appreciate how you’ve treated me like shit our entire fucking relationship,” Shuri starts, “Everything you ask of me, I do, and I mean everything, Imani. But it’s like, no matter what I do for you it’s never enough. You told me to stop hanging out Riri and I did but you just have to find a reason to get pissed off about something that barely even fucking concerns her and it’s irritating. You might as well be obsessed with the girl with the way you know so much shit about her and me.”

Imani stands up. “Shuri, if you keep talking to me like I’m one of your little fan girls, you gon lose me as a girlfriend, I promise.”

“Nobodys stopping you from leaving,” Shuri shrugs. She’s been through too much bullshit from this woman to even care anymore. “Leave.”

Imani scoffs and goes to pack her things.

“Leave your key on the way out, too,” Shuri says, getting up and leaving.

Today was the last day Riri was in Wakanda and Shuri had to make things right before she lost the best friend she’s ever had in her life. 

Shuri knocks on Riri’s door, thankful that she hadn’t left yet when she heard her say, “One minute!” Riri opens the door a few seconds later, her face dropping immediately when she realizes it was Shuri. 

“What do you want?” Riri says, folding her arms across her chest.

“I wanted to apologize.” Riri’s face softens slightly. “I shouldn’t have chosen Imani over you, especially when I’ve known you longer than I have her. I know what I did was stupid, Ri, and I’m sorry. Imani was my first girlfriend and I was willing to do anything for her love and her approval, even if that meant cutting out the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You didn’t deserve to be ghosted by me like that and I should’ve explained things weeks ago at the meeting but I was scared Imani would find out and break up with me and I know that’s no excuse but I really am sorry, Riri.”

Just as Riri was about to speak, another voice came from inside her room. “Ri, who is it?” They yell.

“No one, Aniyah!” She yells back. Riri turns back to Shuri, “I appreciate the apology, Shuri, I really do, but you’re a week too late. I don’t want anything to do with you after what you did.” And with that, she closes the door, leaving Shuri rethinking her entire life choices.

[girlygguk]

promises | jjk (part 1)

inspired by this request

a hopeless romantic's second attempt at writing pure angst, solo idol!jk x gf!reader, 1272 words, cursing, unhappy ending, jungkook's schedule is the real villain, he's the love of your life, but how much is too much before that just isn’t enough anymore?

“baby,” jungkook urges as he steps through the door, tossing his keys and phone onto the bench carelessly, heading straight toward you without bothering to take off his shoes.

the door swings shut behind him, and he’s already kneeling in front of you on the couch, where you sit with a blanket across your lap, eyes fixed on the tv. “baby, i’m so fucking sorry. i didn’t mean to be out this late. you have to know—”

“yeah, i know.” you nod, but there’s no real interest in your voice. your gaze stays locked on the screen, watching daenerys as she climbs onto drogon. “it’s fine.”

he reaches for one of your hands, pulling it gently to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “baby, can you—” he sighs, leaning closer, hands squeezing yours. “can you look at me, please? i said i’m sorry, jagiya.”

“and i said it’s fine,” you reply, giving a small nod, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“can we not do this right now?” he pleads softly. “i leave tomorro—”

a bitter laugh escapes you at that, and his brows furrow immediately, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “really, baby?” he asks, letting your hand drop back to your lap. “you’re gonna stay mad at me on our last night together for two whole weeks?”

you finally meet his gaze, a look of disbelief hardening your expression. “really, jungkook?”

he shakes his head, reaching out to take your hand again, but you pull it back. “just…go away. please.”

“baby—”

“no, jungkook. go.” you rise from the couch, pushing lightly against his chest as the blanket slips down to the seat. “i took the day off from work for this. we planned this. and you still stayed out with your friends.” your voice wavers as you turn to face him fully. “i’ve never asked you to choose. ever. but you did anyway.”

“jagiya,” his voice cracks, eyes already turning red around the edges, “it was a pre-tour meeting. i-i couldn’t just leave — they threw the whole thing for me.” he stammers, hands held out in plea. “please, i’m so sorry—”

“so… the people who’ll be with you for the next two weeks got to have you tonight, too?” your voice trails off, quiet and bitter, as you nod. “got it.”

you turn to walk away, but he reaches out, his hand circling your waist as he tries to pull you back. “don’t touch me,” you mutter, shoving his arm off.

“what do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice raw, stepping in front of you to block your path to the bedroom. “baby, tell me what to do. i’ll stay. i’ll call my manager right now and tell him i’m not going—”

a breathy, humorless laugh escapes you as you stare up at him, a sad, disbelieving smile on your face. “so i’m supposed to be the girlfriend who made her world-famous boyfriend cancel his shows? the ones his fans paid to see? you think i’d ever do that?”

“of course not—”

“then why did you fucking suggest it?!” you snap, voice rising as you push his hands off you again. “don’t give me the ‘i’ll do this, i’ll do that for you’ after the fact, jungkook! do it before i’m standing here pissed off, or just stop doing things that make me so fucking angry in the first place! i hate being mad at you.”

you storm off toward the bedroom, his footsteps heavy behind you. in the ensuite, you pull your hair into an angry ponytail and grab your toothbrush. he stands in the doorway, running his hands over his face as he watches you dampen the bristles and squeeze on toothpaste.

“baby, i don’t know what to do. you said you understood my schedule, that you’d always support me with how unpredictable it is.” he rubs his eyes, pushing his hands back through his hair in frustration. “what can i do? please? how can i fix this?”

you stare down at the toothbrush in your hand, feeling the burn of tears. “i do understand your schedule, jungkook,” you say softly, voice trembling as you finally turn to meet his gaze. “i’ve understood your schedule for the last four fucking years.”

his shoulders slump, his lips twisting in that way he does when he’s trying not to cry.

“what i don’t understand,” you continue, voice breaking, “is why you let me take time off work, waste my entire day sitting here like a fucking idiot waiting for you, only for you to call me five minutes before you’re supposed to be here! and in that stupid, pouty voice like you just expected me to say, ‘okay, baby! it’s fine! i’ll see you later, have fun!’”

he stares at you, defeated, a quiet sniffle escaping as he runs a hand under his nose. you’re right. about everything — you always are. but he can’t lose you. this can’t be the thing that ends it. it can’t.

“i made dinner, had our show ready, put bammy to bed early so we could fuck. like we planned.” a sob catches in your throat behind a sad laugh. “we have to plan when we’re going to have sex because of your schedule, jungkookie.” your voice is quiet, trembling with hurt, as you turn your face away from him. jungkook doesn’t bother wiping the tears that fall down his cheeks as his heart breaks in two. this is it, he realizes. he feels it.

“it’s been so long since we had a night together, just…us. l-like we used to. and it’s not your fault, baby, i know this is the life i signed up for,” you whisper, voice fracturing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. your grip on the toothbrush slackens, your strength draining. “you are worth it, my love. you are.” he walks closer, his head shaking, a choked plea spilling out as he reaches for you.

“but maybe,” you continue softly, almost to yourself, “maybe we don’t have to keep hurting for a while. or…or if we do, maybe we don’t have to hurt together.”

the toothbrush falls into the sink as jungkook breaks completely, his shaky arms slipping around your waist as he buries his head into your neck, his sobs heavy against your skin. your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, clinging to him as the tears you’d held back pour out, your whole body aching as you hold him. the last four years of your life swirl around you, an invisible, crushing weight squeezing you both tightly in the middle of the beautiful, luxurious ensuite you’d never have if it weren’t for him.

everything you have is because of him.

your comfort, your happiness, your pleasure.

your sadness.

he’s your life, and without him, you feel lost.

or at least, that’s what you’ve thought for the last 1,496 days since you met jeon jungkook.

but you’ve never tried to be without him. from the very first day, it’s always been all or nothing.

you love this man, the one clinging to you, crying into your neck, begging you not to do this, that he’ll do better, that he’ll try harder. you love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone in your life.

but…that’s what he said last week.

and the week before.

you know he means well; you know he means every word he says. it’s not his fault that he can’t change the demands of his world, that he can’t keep his unrealistic promises.

but it’s your fault if you keep letting him make them.

a/n helppp i actually cried a lot near the end but like i was already crying so let's blame that <3 WHAT DO U GUYS THINK?? AM I A CERTIFIED ANGSTER YET XX

part two here

[practicalgauntlet]

~You're still my person. Even if I'm not yours.~

"To love in silence is to ache with the hope of being seen, yet fearing the pain of remaining unseen."

Synopsis- You attend J.J.'s wedding. The reception is beautiful except for one thing: watching the love of your life pine for another.

Category- Angst (unhappy ending)

Notes - This is meant to be one part, but I can add a happy ending if you need it, unrequited love, one-sided pining, angst without a happy ending, this one is going to hurt, this was all I could think of when watching the episode, self-loathing, self-hating language.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You were happy for J.J., you really were. She had almost lost Will and Henery in the span of a day. It was unsurprising that she bit the bullet and decided to marry the father of her son.

The reception was just as beautiful as the bride herself as she walked down the aisle in her mother's wedding gown. It was a surprise, the wedding, thrown together by both Will and Rossi.

But it was bittersweet. Despite the thrumming, electric air of the night, you felt empty.

You had known for quite a while that Spencer was in love with J.J. It was apparent and frankly quite obvious, from the prolonged, yearning glances he tossed her way. The frantic worry he would give her if she was hurt or in danger. He didn't show that type of worry to anyone else, not even you.

Yes, he cared deeply for his team - it would take a bullet for them - but not to the point of almost wild, feral paranoia.

You weren't sure if anyone else noticed the way he acted around J.J. or the way he would look at her when she wasn't looking. Maybe it was because you were in love with him as much as he was in love with her.

You focused on the minute details of his behavior, hoping to gleam a fraction of the affection that was directed at her. Most of the time, you saw things you knew you didn't, making quick glances and friendly smiles into something they weren't just to save yourself the heartache.

But now she was getting married. And you could see he was miserable.

He hid it well, timing his smiles and laughter with everyone else's, patting Will on the back in congratulations while keeping that deep-set look of anguish off his face.

But when no one was paying attention, no one but you, his face fell, and that tight-lipped smile faded into misery.

He watched her every second, admiring her from afar as she walked down the aisle. As she kissed Henery before looking up at Will on the altar. He winced and closed his eyes when the couple leaned in to seal their marriage with a kiss.

Penelope had asked if you were okay, wondering why you were so quiet on such a momentous occasion. But if Spencer could hide his feelings for J.J. from the team, then you could remain undetected as well.

When the afternoon bled into a beautiful moon lit night, the glittering lanterns lighting up the yard in which Rossi hosted, you felt hopeless.

Both because you desperately wanted to wipe that sad look off of Spencer's face and because your bubble of delusion was popped.

For years, you secretly hoped he felt the same for you. From the brief glances of adoration, he would throw at you to the blinding smiles he would greet you with. There was not a moment you hoped you weren't overthinking every little reaction, every little touch or laugh.

Turns out you were just as delusional as the monsters you hunted. To think you were good enough to possibly become the object of Spencer's affection. To think you were brilliant enough to even gain his attention, to interest him beyond friendship.

You sat at the table, sandwiched between Penelope and Derek and across the table from Spencer, knee deep in self-loathing. It felt like you were wading through sludge, the world around you moving slow like dripping honey.

You caught Spencer's eye, and he offered you that same tight-lipped, polite, 'I'm definitely not okay if you look past my quickly crumbling mask of normalcy!' smile. You offered one back.

It was safe to assume he was feeling just as broken as you were at that moment, watching the love of his life look at someone else with such adoration and love.

And it broke your heart. Made you feel like a self-absorbed pile of human shit because here you were, wallowing in your own internal battle while Spencer was shattering before you.

You look at him, trying to subtly ask him if he is okay with your eyes. You hoped he wasn't so out of it with sorrow that his profiling skills were rendered useless.

He simply looked away as Rossi stood and tapped his fork against his glass. David gave a heartwarming speech about timing and happiness, pointing a loving hand towards the grinning couple at the head of the table.

Everyone was clapping and smiling, congratulating the newlyweds and their wishing their future the best. Even Spencer was participating, his manurisms and expression genuine for the first time that night.

When they kissed again, Spencer stood and excused himself. No one was really paying attention to him, more focused on each other and the joy that filled the air. No one even thought of sadness being present at a time like this.

You cought Spencer's expression as he walked into the house and you were standing before you could even think.

"Where's the fire, sugar?"

Penelope asked, your studden movement gaining the attention of the technical analyst.

"Bathroom."

You murmured, more focused on reaching Spencer than drawing the curious eye of the infamous meddler.

You were in the house and wandering the halls before she could say anything else, your eyes peeled for any indication as to where Spencer went.

He wasn't on the first floor, nor the second, not in the garage or in the kitchen. You couldn't find him, no matter where you looked. Hell, you even looked in the linen closet.

When you pass the mud room, you see a tall, lanky silhouette in the stained glass of the front door.

You were twisting the knob not a moment later, heart racing a mile a minute. Spencer was standing on the porch, still as a statue. You could see the tension in his body, in the way he held his hands at his sides, the way his shoulders never seemed to relax.

You know he heard you open the door, knew his moment of peace was interrupted.

"Are you okay?"

You ask, testing the waters by gently closing the door and standing next to him. You didn't look at him, no matter how bad you wanted to.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

His voice was carefully crafted, even, and steady. If you didn't know him, you would have thought everything was fine and dandy. But you did know him. You knew him like the back of your hand.

There was a strained layer to the way he spoke. It was the same tone he used on you and the team while he was addicted to Dilaudid, the same tone he used after Gideon left. Carefully hidden turmoil so he didn't have to burden anyone with his 'pathetic' emotions.

You knew him too well.

"You can talk to me, Spence."

"I'm fine, really. I just needed some air."

The lie was blatant on his face. He was begging you to drop it to leave him be so he could keep his composure until he was alone in his apartment. You didn't want to leave it alone, his pain bleeding into yours, amplifying all the hurt and hopelessness you'd felt all night.

"Spence-"

"Drop it."

That sadness, that misery that swirled beneath the surface, was replaced with ire. You knew he didn't mean to take it out on you but in your already fragile mental state the glare he pinned you with cut so deep you feared you'd never stop bleeding.

He left, shouldering past you and back into the house to most likely join the party with his fake fucking smile and his painfully obvious suffering.

You couldn't move, couldn't get your legs to take you back no matter how hard you tried. You were stuck, both emotionally and physically.

The next breath you took left you staggering. You had to sit, had to prevent the inevitable collapse you were destined to have. The cold, hard wood of the porch bit into your knees as you dropped, a broken sob wrenching its way out of your throat.

Another one clawed past that lump, building, and building until you couldn't hold back any longer. You bit your lip, tasting the blood that spilled into your mouth as you tried and failed to keep your sobs a bay.

The wails of agony had you hunched in on yourself, the power of them shaking your body and scratching your throat. Briefly, you thought of gaining the attention of any of the partygoers, your shattering drawing them to the porch so they could bear witness to your destruction.

You'd rather die than succumb someone to that, so you bit down on your knuckle. You were still so loud, your lip and knuckle aching from your teeth.

The door opened, and you froze, body still shaking with emotion as you lay there in a heap of pity.

"Oh my god, sugar plumb!" Penelope gasps, rushing to your side and leaving the door wide open. "What happened?"

You continued to sob uncontrollably, hands absently reaching for Penelope’s hand and drawing yourself into her comforting embrace.

Your words were broken by hiccuping wails, face wet with snot and tears.

"I love him, Pen."

"Will?"

She pulls back and looks at your broken face, holding you by the shoulders as she levels you with a confused face.

"No, Spencer."

You'd never said it out loud before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt as if your entire world was just tilted on its axis.

"Oh, honey pot,"

She draws you into her embrace again, smoothing your hair with gentle pets, cooing sweet nothings until you are numb. Quiet and calm, but numb. Void of the emotion that so fiercely burned within you just moments ago.

"He loves someone else."

You say pathetically, your voice monotone and as empty as you feel.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"I can't stand it anymore, Pen. Watching him yearn for her."

"Shhh." She coos, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "Everything will be okay."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Three months have passed since the wedding. Everything wasn't okay.

You walked the earth with that same, cold, unending nothingness that overtook you that night in Penelope’s arms.

She made it her mission to make you feel better. Making jokes, setting you up, hosting girls' night out, and slumber parties. Everything she could think of, she dragged you along with her. But it felt like your world ended that night.

Spencer wasn't the same either. He didn't ask you to go to the library with him, didn't try and pull you along with him and Penelope to their various conventions, and didn't smile at you when you greeted him.

He was numb too.

There was a loss of two loves that evening, a great love story missed. The paths of fate are so close yet they never converge, never collide.

You went on a blind date once.

Never again.

He was fine. He was smart, handsome, and funny. But not as smart, as handsome, as funny. He wasn't Spencer.

It felt like you missed your chance, that if you did something better, something right, he would have chosen you. You could have made him happy.

"The heart wants what it wants. There is no logic to these things. You meet someone, and you fall in love, and that's that." - Woody Allen.

[imfinereallyy]

some of us, and I’m not naming names, need to start being properly tagged on fics.

Angst: Is it me?

No.

Unhappy Ending: Is it me?

……it’s not Angst.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Left Behind and Bleeding

Summary: you’ve been feeling forgotten all week when your period shows up you just want to curl up and hide. Will your girlfriends look after you this time?

TW: Angst, periods, being forgotten, anxiety, feeling left out, abandonment issues, self-doubt, mentions of drug use, teasing

Words: 1.2K

A/n: it’s that time of the month when I hit you with another period fic lol. Sorry it’s a bit short. Also … I may be projecting again … maybe hehe.

It had been a bad few days to say the least. To start off you had plans to hang out with Natasha, but she got given a last-minute mission, so you had to postpone. Which would have been fine on its own, but it seemed yo have sparked a pattern.

All week people had been cancelling on you, having some reason or another that seemed valid at the time but looking back made you overthink.

Wanda had some people she needed to visit, and you understood. But everyone seemed to be prioritising other things. Even your mother wasn’t answering your calls. Leading you to believe she was either dead or ignoring you.

On the fourth day of having nobody to hang out with in the usually very busy tower, you were getting fed up.

Your mind had been trying to spin a story that everyone simply didn’t like you. That they would rather hang out with other people and that you really didn’t have anyone in your corner.

Of course, you had been fighting the notion for days now, but it was getting harder to ignore as people continued to have bigger, better things to do without you.

Nat had gotten back from her mission and had immediately gone to do some training and after you caught her watching a movie with Clint. You had moped around your room all afternoon, feeling like you were a B-list avenger at best.

Your mind had convinced you that nobody cared and so you had spent the afternoon crying alone in your room.

When dinner came, it seemed everyone had returned. Something you had not been counting on, so your eyes were still red and puffy when Jarvis announced dinner.

In a panic you threw on some sunglasses in an attempt to keep the others from finding out.

Yet it had simply orchestrated a point of teasing for the whole meal. Everyone wanted to know why you were wearing them, but you kept your head down and tried to seem cheerful.

Sam was trying to convince people that you must have been high, while wanda could practically hear your loud thoughts from the other end of the table. Her and Nat exchanged expressions when you got up from the meal not even halfway through.

Feeling awful you almost cried when you got back to your room to discover your period had started.

Life seemed to be throwing more than a few curveballs at you, it was throwing the full field.

You stuck in a pad and threw on some warm pjs before crawling under the covers and letting a few tears fall while your breathing evened out.

Wanda had finished her dinner around the same time as Natasha had so, they had met up in the kitchen while washing their dishes.

“Wanda?” Nat asked from where she was drying her plate off.

“Yeah?” Wanda asked, her hands covered in suds.

Nat chewed her lip for a second before carefully selecting her words. “Was there … anyone off with Y/n these last few days?” Nat asked.

“I don’t know why?” Wanda said and Nat frowned.

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’ werent you here?” Nat said.

“No? I told you I was visiting friends for a few days.” Wanda said.

“Oh my god.” Nat said feeling bad. “Did we both ditch her for a week?”

“No? I mean surely, she had the others to hang out with. Right?” Wanda said.

“Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling.

“Yes, Ms Romanoff what can I do for you?” The AI responded.

“Who in the past week has cancelled plans with Y/n?” Nat asked.

“In the past week I believe each of the avengers have been either ‘too busy’ or had ‘other plans’ to spend time with Ms L/n.” Jarvis said.

“Oh god.” Wanda said. “Jarvis? What has Y/n been doing this past week?”

“Ms L/n has spent most of her time in her room. Either sleeping or crying. She also has been avoiding everyone for the last half of the week.” Jarvis said and Wanda and Natasha’s hearts broke.

“We are the worst girlfriends ever.” Wanda said feeling awful.

“We should go check on her.” Nat agreed and the two of them headed for the lift.

When they stood outside your bedroom door Natasha hesitated for a second.

“What if she doesn’t want to see us?” Nat asked.

“Im sure she will, it’s Y/n. She may be sad but her hearts still twenty-four carat.” Wanda said and Nat nodded and knocked.

When no response came, she gently opened the door. Making out a Y/n shaped lump in the bed she entered and quietly walked over to your side.

Wanda took note of the chocolate wrappers on your bedside table and the hot water bottle you had cuddled up to.

You had seemingly used your powers to heat up the water-bottle and your brow was creased in pain.

“Nat?” Wanda said and Natasha nodded.

“I see.” She said.

Wanda sighed and slipped into bed behind you. Gently playing with your hair as Nat went to search for some pain medicine for you, knowing that you wouldn’t have taken any yet.

Wanda rubbed slow circles on your back and brushed a hand onto your cheek.

“Y/n baby, can you open your eyes for me my love?” Wanda asked softy. You let out a small whimper and Wanda’s heart melted.

“Wands?” You asked in a small voice.

“Yes, baby its me.” She said pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheekbone.

“Hurts.” You said softly and she nodded.

“Natty’s gone to get you some medicine.” Wanda said just as Natasha walked back in with some pills and a glass of water.

“Here you go my sweet girl.” Nat said as wanda helped sit you up, leaning into her side.

Nat passed you the medicine and you took it without protest, telling both girls just how bad you were really feeling.

“I’m sorry we weren’t here my love.” Nat said brushing a curl from your cheek.

“That’s ok. You had important things to do.” You mumbled into Wanda’s chest where you had buried your face.

“Baby girl, nothings more important than you.” Wanda said stroking your hair.

“Why don’t we put on a movie, and you can try and get some sleep ok?” Nat said gently and you nodded, shuffling over to make room for her on the bed.

Wanda used her magic to open the small mini fridge in the room and floated a pint of your favourite icecream and three spoons over.

“I got this for you before I left my love.” Wanda said with a smile passing you a spoon.

Natasha slipped in beside you and Wanda, passing you the remote you put on an episode of Parks and Recreation as you began to eat some icecream and cuddle.

After a few spoonfuls Nat stole the container, Afterall you have been making a mess. There was even icecream on your nose which wanda softly kissed away, making you giggle as you begun doze in the presence of your two amazing girlfriends.

[potatomountain]

"Why Do You Love?"

❤️‍🩹 pairing: ex Hongjoong x gn!reader x bf Yunho

❤️‍🩹 wc: 2k

❤️‍🩹 au: idol

❤️‍🩹 genre: angst, exes to lovers.

❤️‍🩹 warnings: one punch, hurt/comfort, angst

❤️‍🩹 summary: Your ex finds out who you left him for, just before he released a song that shows just how he feels about your absence

❤️‍🩹 AN: how DARE Kim Hongjoong just drop that mv and put me in my feels so here I am putting him in some feels

❤️‍🩹 an unedited piece written during an overworked weeked at 4am every night i should've been in bed but Kim Hongjoong dictates my life so here we are

❤️‍🩹 nets: @pirateeznet @mirohs-aurora-society

❤️‍🩹 Banner made by me- would have included Yunho but could not find a Pic that matched the vibe I wanted. For other works: Masterlist

The way Hongjoong's expression crumbled tore your heart to pieces all over again. You had only seen that expression once before, the day you had broken things off with him a couple months ago. You told him then you had fallen out of love with him, and in love with someone else.

But you never said who.

Now he knew, staring at the way Yunho's hands pulled the blanket over your shoulders to cover your exposed torso as Yunho himself maneuvered himself to shield you from view.

Without looking at his elder, his Captain, Yunho addressed him, “It's usually polite to knock Hyung.”

You attempted to look at him over Yunho's shoulder, but Yunho moved to block you, meeting your gaze instead.

Both of you knew you couldn't keep it from him forever, but this wasn't how you wanted him to find out. How could you tell him that the man you figuratively left him for was his own group mate? 

“I- Yeosang forgot- offered to grab-” Hongjoong’s trembling voice was so loud in your ears, despite being so soft, that you flinched at the sound.

It wasn't like you ever wanted to hurt him, never intentionally, breaking up with him hadn't been an easy decision. Yes you told him that you didn't love him anymore but that wasn't really the case, you just realized he didn't have room for you in his life and it was hurting you with how hard you were trying to make a place. 

Touring was understandable, so was his work, but when you found yourself giving all your free time for just a crumb of his attention, it had been too much.

Especially since his own band member showed you that it didn't have to be that way. Yunho made time for you. He messaged you between locations for filming, and on breaks from practice. He invited you over for games, brought you food whenever you were waiting for Hongjoong to leave his studio, and comforted you on many occasions when you cried with the realization that Hongjoong wasn't going to text you or visit despite waiting hours.

Neither of you had wanted to fall in love with the other, but it had taken Yunho having a breakdown over Hongjoong’s treatment of you for you both to realize it had happened. 

You had kissed him on impulse, and that led to your decision that you needed to break things off with Hongjoong.

Lost in the spiral of your emotions, you were brought back by Yunho's hand on your cheek. He opened his mouth to speak but you could hear someone else calling out to your ex-boyfriend instead. 

“Shit. Shit���Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice got closer and closer until he was panting in the doorway to Yunho's bedroom. . “Oh fuck-”

Seonghwa was the only one you both told, as Yunho had gone to him for advice. Which you had been following.

Break up with Hongjoong- check.

Keep away from the boys, in particular him for a few weeks- check.

See how you and Yunho click as a couple before Hongjoong finds out- also check but you both wanted to hold off until the man seemed to move on. 

This was not how he was supposed to find out. And the reason, what you all predicted would happen… did.

He was either going to implode or explode and the realization that Seonghwa had known resulted in the external conflict. 

Yunho kept the sight hidden from you but you heard plenty. He was yelling, the hurt in each word twisting the guilty knife in your gut that spurred tears.

Seonghwa shrunk under his harsh words, trying to get a word in but Hongjoong was having none of it. He started accusing you both of cheating, a few harsh demeaning words you had never heard Hongjoong say before we're now being thrown at you.

You sobbed out, covering your ears and hunching over to try and hide yourself in the blanket further now that Yunho wasn't by your side: he had stood up to intervene when Hongjoong had started insulting you.

There was a moment of silence at your sob, and then an echoing sound of skin on skin impact. Your head snapped up, Hongjoong's head twisted awkwardly to the side and Yunho's fist balled up in front of him. Yunho had hit Hongjoong.

“This was a mistake. This was-” You scrambled to put your clothes back on, feeling their eyes in you as you did. You and Yunho hadn't gotten far, it was your first time attempting intimacy past a few kisses, but of course Hongjoong didn't know that, considering he accused you a moment ago of two timing him and probably fucking Yunho whenever he was at the studio.

It hurt, and all you could think about is that you ruined their relationship, that you made their lives so much harder now. Could they even work together now? Yunho hit Hongjoong. What if Yunho got removed from the group?

Your tears made it difficult to find your bag but it was Seonghwa that held it up. Your eyes met his briefly and there was so much emotion there. He pitied you, an apology there you didn't think you deserved either, but you didn't dwell on it. You were out the door without looking at the other two.

By the time you reached the front door, you heard Yunho's harsh tone directed at Hongjoong, repeating some of the things he told you when he had broken down about your treatment. Now he seemed to be saying them to the source, angrily. 

You didn't stick around to hear how it went.

Not even two days later you saw it. His socials were plastered with it, as were the group's main socials. You expected another teaser for the upcoming Japanese release, but it was the YouTube notification from KQ you clicked on that brought you to a music video. 

“Why Do You Love?”

You should've backed out as soon as you saw his face, should've exited the video as you heard his voice- but just like everything else Hongjoong does you were captivated.

Tears were running down your cheeks by the end of the video, vision too blurry to even see the image any more.

What were you supposed to do about this? You knew, knew it was for you- but for him to release it right after he finds you with Yunho? It hurt so much.

You could only sob, the guilt on your shoulders heavier than before. The song was playing on loop as your own form of personal torture.

The worst part is he was right, you still thought of him. You still loved him, wanted him, even when you were in Yunho’s arms. 

That didn't mean you loved Yunho any less, that you would leave him for Hongjoong if he changed his ways. You didn't know what it meant.

And under all the crushing weight, you did nothing. Your inaction stretched for days, even ignoring the texts and calls of your boyfriend, and everything to do with Ateez.

You unfollowed the official accounts, even muted the apps. Your phone you kept on silent, only paying attention to work. You ghosted Yunho, and the longer that went on the harsher the guilt.

A couple weeks passed and this day felt different. It didn't… hurt as much. You braved the Ateez YouTube channel again, turning on the music Video and pulling your legs up to your chest. You stared at Hongjoong's face on the screen, letting his voice ring around you and soak into your soul.

You shut your eyes to stop the tears from falling as you murmured the last lines of the song. “No you, there's no me.”

There was a loud crash that jostled you out of your once more depressing thoughts, physically jumping and swiveling in the direction of the sound. Your eyes about bulged out of your skull at the sight of Hongjoong there, on his knees, tears in his eyes.

Yunho of all people stood behind him, attempting to mask the pain that the sight of you caused. He murmured your name, but didn't come closer.

Turning the TV off, you stood up on shaky legs. “What are…. Why are you here?” The question was directed at them both, but you couldn't look at either. 

How pathetic were you right now? When was the last time you did your skin care? Or washed the pajamas you were in. You stunk of depression, and the fact that they felt looser on you than before showed that you lost weight- reminding you that your appetite had been almost nonexistent these last weeks.

Depression does that you suppose.

“I'm sorry.” Hongjong gasped out, picking himself off the floor and making his way to you. His presence was a reminder of the last words he said and you flinched away from him.

You looked away when you spotted the hurt in his eyes by your actions. “I'm not a cheater. I never did.” You weakly defended yourself, weeks later.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I fucked up. I'm sorry I really fucked up I shouldn't have said- I know you didn't cheat baby.” He reached out for you almost desperately. “I know you didn't do anything wrong-”

“Then why the video?” You sobbed out, having no energy to stop him from pulling you against his chest. The best you could muster were your hands on his chest to keep some space.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hand on the back of your head. “I wrote it before I found out. It was already in our editors hands and scheduled, I didn't remember about it until it was too late."

“Then why-”

“Because I'm selfish. I wanted all your time but wouldn't give you mine. I… they set me straight, I know now how much I was hurting you baby, I'm so sorry. Yunho shouldn't have been the one to make you happy when I was yours. That's my fault.”

You shook your head, pulling away. “It's too late. I-I ruined everything. You fought with your members and and- got physical I-”

“We've made amends.” Yunho clarified for you as he finally approached, no longer a bystander to the conversation. “And we want to make amends with you…”

You looked at them both, fresh tears in your eyes. “How? Joongie- ah Hongjoong-”

“No no, call me Joongie again. I missed it. I missed you Baby.” He nuzzled closer, rubbing his cheek against yours. “I want another chance. Please? Please can I have another chance. I'll do better. I can't… I can't do it without you.”

The lyrics of his song floated through your mind, taking your breath away. “I- but- Yunho-"

“We talked about that too.” You felt Yunho's large hand on your back, a kiss on the crown of your head. “We’re… willing to share. Especially after seeing you like this.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, pulling away to look at them in disbelief. You expected some hesitation or jealousy, some sort of tell this wasn't true. That they hadn't really come to such a decision. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water, trying to find words.

Yunho sighed, pulling you back to them. “Let’s clean you up first and feed you properly. You can decide then but I know you. I know you love him. I know you miss him. He’l have a place in your heart I won't but-”

“-But Yunho is special to you too. He cares for you in the way I should. Makes you happy, keeps you grounded. And without you… we’re both pretty miserable. So you need us both as much as we need you.” Hongjoong finished for him.

Yunho smirked as he pulled you to your room. “Look at you, taking Seonghwa  Hyung’s words as your own.”

Hongjoong flushed prettily, grabbing your hand and rushing to catch up. “Shut up. He's not wrong.”

You found yourself astonished how easy going they were now after the last time you saw them. Yunho chuckled at the shorter man and stuck his tongue out, the mood between them becoming playful. Enough it had you laughing, both turning to look at you in confusion.

Both had grins spreading across their faces that matched your own.

Maybe this love could work. Maybe.

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[pathologicalrunaway]

i saw that one tumblr post about how aviary cheapens the point of sky as a story (the civilisation is lost and all we know are only shadows of what was before; but aviary brings everyone back and we coexist now, instead of being two generations that were never supposed to meet) reposted on reddit a while ago and i have a couple of thoughts on this matter.

because one hand, i do agree that there was a bittersweetness in walking through a dead world that was lost. that aviary feels alive and the world is supposed to be dead. but i think a crucial aspect of this whole discourse (lore-wise) could lie in the first character aviary can be associated with. and this character — and their little village — do not really contradict the point of the game, but contribute to it

hopeful steward. they are, first things first, a child. like we are, as players. and children are often associated with hope for a better future, and this game is no exception. it's up to the children to bring light back, it's us and our connections that make sky a happy place. it's us that bring hope in the fact thay maybe, maybe not everything is over yet. that there's still something to admire, something to love, something to believe in.

steward is the one waiting in front of the village doors, they are the one showing us how to bring back the village, so it would make sense to assume that the village is their idea and, to an extent, their responsibility.

they are in charge of this silly little community like elders once were, but the elders fell. they made bad decisions that led to the world's destruction. this is mostly speculation, at least now, and we should wait for two embers to give us the whole picture, but it looks like the reason why aviary exists is because the world was on the verge of collapse and hopeful steward (and a couple more people) wanted — if not to prevent this — at least to try to save someone.

a second chance for the dying world.

they were hoping for a better future despite the inevitable doom. they had hope in the fact that, even in those dark times, the world would bounce back.

and their name says a lot about them. they wake up to see their home destroyed, their friends gone, the bells broken. the only thing alive is the child with a candle in front of them. but they don't succumb to despair, they keep faith, showing the newcomer around, explaining what happened.

they have no reason to believe that the kid that has just fallen fron the sky can restore light. they have no proof they are even able to do such things, that they are strong enough. they just hope.

and their hope pays back, eventually, after oh-so many losses. the world — and, most importantly, its people, — are saved. maybe not in the way any of them wanted but hey, life's tricky like that.

hopeful steward and their village refraim the point of the story, not destroy it. we spent years wandering in an empty kingdom haunted by the ghosts of what once were its people, not knowing what happened, or who they used to be, or if there was a way they could be happy again. and now we know that dark times don't last forever. trees grow back when people leave cities, animals return to where progress preciously exiled them from, and humanity bounces back. life is a cycle, and nothing just stays gone forever. good times come, eventually. with hope and friendship and love.

but it doesn't mean things are exactly the way they used to be, no. the realms are still destroyed. people look very different now. aviary village grows, but it's slow and painful and we are constantly reminded of how nothing is the same anymore (nesting guide looking wistfully at the picture, compassionate cellist and duets guide's dream coming true far too late). many go to the stars because this is an option now, and there is no guarantee the village's inhabitants will stay there forever, just like there was no guarantee back then that they would live there happily ever after.

and eden stayed the same. at the end of the day, all the loss and pain and mistakes of people there were before us is still here. it's just now we're stopping mourning the past and focus on the present instead

[boundinparchment]

Blind and Frozen

“There is no room for love in the work we do.” He was right. Of course he was. His Segments would see to it that you understood as much. Dottore/Female Reader, Dottore's Segments/Female Reader. Contains character death. EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI. On AO3 here.

“There is no room for love in the work we do.”

Your fist trembled and you were under no illusion he didn’t hear your heartbeat.  You were practically vibrating after your admission to him in the quiet solitude of his office, upon receiving feedback from your latest written report regarding the Aranara experiments.  

In the grandiosity of his ambitions and plans for humanity, love mattered little when thrown in contrast to the bigger picture and the scope of what had yet to be achieved.  You were better off anywhere else; your mind produced wonderful ideas that were better suited to another role in any other nation but Snezhnaya.  So many others said the same and yet you chose to align yourself with the visionaries and the daring, the ones who willingly accepted their roles as villains to put the betterment of humanity ahead of all.

You stared at him, red eyes boring back into yours with the same intensity given to those who interrupted him mid-sentence.  Disdain you could handle.  Something else mingled, small and pinching, a needle prodding your finger from a poorly angled stitch.  You dared not name it.

“If you stay, you will be sorely disappointed.  And that is a promise.”

You nodded numbly, shoving your welling reaction and desire to grab him by the shirt collar down, down, down, as you left his office until all that was left was a vague sense of confusion.  No other work would satisfy you.  A decade of ennui led you to the Fatui and no other sub-faction would challenge you or your worldview as much as Dottore’s did.  Those who left his research facilities were typically those not cut out for academia long term to begin with.  But your time at the Fontaine Research Institute was an appealing point on your resume as was your particular focus on the study of time.

Squaring your shoulders, you returned to your workspace, staring at your equipment.  The variables needed refinement and no one else understood this particular experiment the way you did.  Might as well finish what you started.

The Segments usually had little to no interaction with other laboratory staff, at least here.  Acting as their own agents, they oversaw their whims and thirst for knowledge themselves, occasionally with a small team in tow.

Yet you stared the youngest in the face one morning as he sat on your stool.  He usually curled up under one of the work tables and stayed there for a few hours when he visited you, although you never quite understood why.  It was his space long before you arrived but the ritual held and you never dared ask him to leave.

Without a word, the boy turned and began examining the Aranara.  This one was green and a little chunkier than the rest; its fur was soft and smelled faintly of Padisarahs.

“Prime can’t,” young Zandik said, small fingers lifting a paw.  “What you told him, he’s not capable of it in return.”

The young Segment hopped down from the stool expertly and dusted off his shorts.

“He’s sparing you the rest,” were his parting words.

A few days later, his older self was next, the Akademiya student with dark circles and a need to be right.  He corrected your equations and you felt his breath tickle your scalp on more than one occasion that it was no longer coincidence.  

Once in a while, he offered a treat stolen from the kitchen, acknowledging your lack of a break.

“He would be livid if he knew.  Just don’t eat it here,” he hissed.

You never got to clarify whether he meant Prime would be upset at him for bringing it or you for not taking breaks.  Maybe both.  Somehow he always managed to find a fault  or shortcoming (and that was what you found endearing, that he dared not hide his thoughts.)

His voice tightened when you leaned in and turned your head unexpectedly, lips brushing.  The air seemed to expand as you felt an unmistakable hardness at your hip that he had been trying to keep to himself.  

You didn’t pull away but instead allowed him to guide your hand over his tented pants.  His kiss was sloppy, all trembling lips and slippery tongue; he jerked his hips against your palm in the dead silence of the laboratory and tears glistened as he spasmed, a dark stain forming beneath your touch.

He came back, this time asking for your opinion as he slid fingers beneath your skirt and along your wet entrance, prodding and rubbing.  You came, empty, as you listened to him muse about the mechanical creations of the Dahri and you pretended you didn’t hear a different name on his lips.

His older counterpart, more boisterous than the rest, interrupted both of you when it suited him, a large grin ripping itself from his mouth as the student scampered away.  This one had spent time in the desert, learned what it meant to be transactional with purpose, and had no qualms overtaking personal space.

His kisses left little cuts in your lips, his teeth  sharpened for the sake of illusion.  A monster in all but title, he proclaimed, and he had to remedy that if he was to usurp the fate that awaited him.  This one marked you, interrupted your work so frequently that you did, in fact, contemplate putting in your resignation.  You’d never get work done like this, bent over your desk and seemingly high on sexual release for several hours a day.

And even when he dragged you out of the lab, you could hardly consider the time productive by any standard.  At least for your own projects.

His, however, flourished under your hands.  New specimens of flora and fauna, brought back from fossils dug up from who knew where.  Green and pink and blue and purple, their shades never before seen on the surface, you were certain.  For every bite both verbal and physical, you were given gentle touches and praise, your knees pressed to your chest as you quaked and watched crimson agates bloom as he followed suit.

Upon your return to the lab and a normal routine, you felt Omega more than you saw him.  The Segment who dragged you out to the steppes and plains outside Nod Krai was never quite within eyesight again, certainly not when the one so close to Prime himself lingered.  You had a feeling, however, that this was not the first time Omega had watched, observed, noted the Segments and their engagement with you.  Only now, he was making himself known, like the Rishboland Tiger you read about from the same nation as the Aranara; he was simultaneously beloved and feared for being pragmatic and seeing actions through to all consequences.  The very things so many loved about Prime without the weight of an existence numb to everything but progress.

To his credit, of all the Segments, Omega flattered your skills and knowledge first.  He was prideful but not above accepting that he had the minds of those who dedicated themselves to one particular topic, and therefore would prove useful when the time came.  His attention was different, more focused, constructive, but by now, you caught on that there was more to all of this and you were thankful when he took you from behind.  At least you could pretend he might be Prime this time; with the others, their personalities were not yet honed and their movements left much to desire, too overcome with immediate lust and a need to experience it.  With Omega, you could close your eyes and consider that, with only a few striking differences, he was one and the same as Prime.

Everything you dreamed about, ever since you met him.

The mirage was shattered when you boldly plucked his mask from his face and stared at two deep set kameras, their apertures whirring in response.  Between them, a red star, spinning on an axis of infinity.  You could not determine if you were mad at Dottore himself for allowing his Segments to keep up this farce or yourself because it kept happening.  Part of you just needed a reminder, to be grounded, lest you be lost at sea like driftwood.

The grin that split the Segment’s mouth was nothing close to joy.  It sent chills down your spine and you stumbled back, catching yourself just in time.  Torn between running and wondering what, exactly, he would do, you froze instead only to end up bent over your workstation.  He exposed your ass and as soon as the chilled air hit your skin, you were met with the slapping sting of his palm, the crack echoing in the empty workshop.  He soothed your skin with his bare hand after ten strokes, each harder than the last.

“He does not even love himself,” Omega growled, fist buried in your hair and pulling as he pumped into you.  With every thrust, the edge of the table knocked the wind out of you.  “His emotions are so stifled that we are left to channel them in such stunted ways.  Pathetic, that you stayed at all.  You will not survive what he will do to you.”

You were left with nothing but the faintest hints of pleasure, an orgasm rode out so harshly you had to second-guess it even happened.  The others at least made you seem presentable.  But Omega left you bare and sticky and on display for all to see, for Prime to see.  Disappointment did not even slim the surface, barely scraped fresh snow off the iceberg that now made up your heart.

He had been right.  Of course.  When was he ever wrong?

Part of you screamed to stand and make yourself at least presentable.  You had more dignity than this.  But you couldn’t.  Too much effort.  Who cared?  Your colleagues kept clear of you now.  Your research would never quite finish under these conditions and by now, you were too far behind.  You stared off, counting thirty flagstones in the floor before you heard a familiar set of footsteps.

Gloved hands, cold and calculating, inspected your exposed flesh.  Your skin burned as one pressed against the tender redness from Omega, a faint huff of air the only response of recognition.  Fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulled, and exposed your neck only long enough for you to feel a sharp prick.  Ice bloomed in your veins, searing as it went.  Your eyelids grew heavy from the pain, your brain trying to protect itself from the overload.

You tried to speak but your tongue refused to obey, practically frozen to the roof of your mouth.  Vision flickering, the last thing you saw was Prime’s face, properly, scar tissue glistening as his wide eyes watched in fascination.

“You didn’t listen,” he hissed.  “They never do.“

Prime fixed your clothes and lifted you,  draping you over his shoulder as if you were little more than a slaughtered lamb.  

They were quicker this time.  More impatient.  The neural pathways had already been connected and he had far less time than anticipated.  But no matter.  Thankfully there was always a spare.

He passed through three sets of doors, each biometric scanner more specific than before.  They required signs of organic life, preventing any Segments from intruding on this little haven.

Love.  Little more than a chemical reaction.  Utterly irrational, illogical, and yet humans treated it as if it were little more than air, absolutely necessary for existence.  Every attempt to quantify it left more questions, which required more subjects.  One might have called him mad, or say he was overthinking such a simple part of human nature.  He chuckled at the prospect.

He would figure it out one day.  The Tsaritsa asked him to return her sense of love, properly, and he would succeed.  If he could manufacture godhood and faith with a mere Akasha and a puppet, what chance did love stand against his knowledge?

Dottore discarded you in one of the numerous small chambers lining the hall, his breath curling like a dragon’s beneath his nose.  Your face was still frozen in abject terror, a deer caught in a hunter’s line of sight.  A side-effect of the agent.  Your face muscles would ache the next time he saw you properly but nothing the thawing process wouldn’t take care of, come a few decades down the line.

Your perspective and dedication to every part of him was fascinating.  Most rejected one in favor of another, but you?

He tucked away a loose strand of hair and dared allow himself to kiss your forehead.

You were an absolute treasure of a subject.

He closed the metal lid and sealed the chamber, eyes lingering on your face in the single window.  With another push of a level, the chamber’s pneumatics kicked in and pulled the container away, back towards the wall among the other vertical displays.

Dottore counted down one side, and then another.  He would need to make more room sooner rather than later, sacrifice one subject to preserve another.  But not today.

He pressed a hand to your chamber and then turned, the doors shutting behind him with a fateful hiss of pressure.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 8: Miscommunication

wc: 657 | Rated: T | cw: Angst with Unhappy Ending

Tags: Literal Miscommunication, Missing Someone, Angst with Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Modern Universe

'Steve's Bed'

Steve stares up at the big, stupid canopy hanging over the bed and folds his arms.

What’s the point of such a luxurious, expensive bed if he has to spend so much time in it alone? If he had known that matrimony with a rockstar was going to be like this, well –

Well, maybe he wouldn’t have not not married Eddie Munson but… He would have seriously considered just staying in Hawkins. Or maybe moving to Chicago with Robin. Or Dustin’s fucking college campus where the kid teaches!

Steve frowns – maybe that last one is a little weird.

But at least he would have someone. Instead of a gigantic bed that has been his alone for so long, he can’t even detect Eddie’s cologne and (still) cheap shampoo on his side of the bed.

A side of the bed that isn’t really owned by someone else anymore.

It is just Steve’s bed.

And he hates it.

He isn’t naive. He knew Corroded Coffin would be touring for months to celebrate their most recent album.

But there were supposed to be breaks at most, phone calls at least.

Even if he doesn’t get to see Eddie in person, he should be able to talk to him or video call.

But nope.

At first, it was a few missed connections. The tour bus was out of range of service on and off, then the hotel Wi-Fi was shoddy. Then Steve discovered that someone at the label screwed up part of the itinerary, so the copies he had on the refrigerator, in his work bag and at his desk at school became all but useless.

When a call finally did come, Eddie was tired and filled with excuses. When it was Steve's turn to talk, he knew his husband was barely listening.

And then it happened again.

And again. Over and over.

Eddie was always distracted or in the middle of doing something else. Even when he said he was available to talk.

Steve used to be able to brush it all off. Have more patience.

He screws his eyes shut, begging the universe (and his brain) to let him get some shut-eye. He needs to start grading papers the moment he gets to school tomorrow.

But his mind is a race of every instance he hasn’t talked to Eddie. Every moment he was almost able to talk to Eddie. Every moment he wanted to. Needed to.

And each time it made him ache.

His heart is aching.

Perhaps more than ever before.

The thing is, he foolishly thought that the whole Rockstar Thing might be temporary. Maybe it's even selfish for Steve to have ever thought that way. He just figured that after they both hit forty, Eddie and the rest of the band might want to slow down. Even settle down.

Hell, he thought that would happen when they finally got married.

But somehow, it got worse.

More lonely.

Steve pulls back the covers, hoping that a late-night snack might lull him into some sort of food coma to get him through the next few hours. He grabs his phone and shucks on a navy-blue robe embossed with his initials, ‘SM’ now.

He clenches his phone in his hand as he walks down the long and winding main hall of the penthouse, mulling over whether he should call Robin at this hour. Steve gathers the collar of his robe tight to his chest, chilled now that he is out of bed. It might be too big and have the world’s most extravagant canopy, but at least the covers are warm.

He grinds to a halt, just shy of the cavernous living area. The whole place has become some sick and twisted version of his former family home. An empty place. Devoid of life. Where he is left cold and alone.

Steve unlocks his phone and squints against the bright screen light, searching for his lawyer’s number.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

It's a Cruel Summer, With You

kai parker x reader | requested

summary: kai's never had anyone tell him they love him. he panics when he hears it for the first time.

tags: based on cruel summer by taylor swift, mild enemies to lovers, drinking / alcohol, secret relationship, summer love, love confessions, fear / panic, past trauma affecting relationships, emotional hurt, unrequited love (but not really), break-up, heartbreak, unhappy ending, one teensy edgar allen poe reference

word count: 5k

a/n: anon, i apologize once more for the amount of time this took! i hope you like it, and i hope i did taylor swift justice. 🩷 i also hope it makes sense bc sometimes i feel like my thoughts are just all over the place 😅

You were staring daggers into the back of his head, three days after a drastic turning point in their lives. And he, feeling your eyes upon him, turned to face you and smiled. That enraged you like nothing else; no man had ever had such an audacity with you, to raise the hell that he had and still offer a smile. You looked back down at your drink, still fuming, and still aware of him watching you, and texted your friends about it. One replied with an equal disgust, another sent a funny-to-her joke, and there was no response from the third. 

“Maybe he’s got a sweet spot for you,” she had said.

“Ha.”

A sweet spot that’d make him kill you last, maybe.

You rolled your eyes exhaustedly, but by the time you looked back down, someone had slunk into the booth across from you. You jumped, then rolled your eyes a second time at the realization of who it was.

“Hey cutie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kai shrugged, unbothered. He kept eye contact with you in a way that made it hard to look away; his blue eyes seemed to pierce right into your soul. They weren’t bright, like Damon’s, but instead had a touch of darkness in them. Like storm clouds rolling in on a bright, sunny day. They threaten rain, but you’re not sure if the downpour will come today or tomorrow.

Kinda like how he came into Mystic Falls. 

“What do you want?” You bit, after about thirty seconds of staring.

“Are you scared of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you afraid of me?” He repeated, eerily softly. 

“Why would you think that?” Forced bravery is better than none, especially when faced with Kai Parker. 

“There’s a slight tremor in your voice. Only one finger touches the table, as if you’re unable to settle. You struggle to meet my eyes.”

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“I’m a sociopath.”

Shocker. 

“So?”

“I notice things.” He took a sip of your coffee. Reached out across the table, met your eyes, and sipped your drink. Again, the audacity. “I spent a lot of my childhood isolated. I had a lot of little brothers and sisters, and they were all taught to be afraid of me. I know how to read the signs.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s what they’d say, too.”

“Well I’m not your siblings, and I’m not putting up an act. I don’t trust you, and I think you’re an ass, but I’m not afraid of you.” Your statement’s bold, but he had struck something fierce in you. A nerve, maybe on purpose, that wasn’t going to let him win this time. 

Kai smiled at that. His gaze dropped to the table, surveying your hands once more. His own pointer finger dragged along the wood. “I like you, Y/N. You’re plucky.”

The words took a moment to register - Kai saying he liked you. Kai didn’t like anyone. 

He got up to leave, causing you to turn towards him, prepared to jump out of the booth if you had to. “Well don’t.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“I don’t want you to like me. I want nothing to do with you; you said it yourself, you’re a sociopath, and I don’t need that kind of bad energy in my life.”

That seemed to be funny to him, judging by the way he chuckled. “Okay, Y/N.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I won’t like you then.”

And with that, he was gone. 

Of course, he wasn’t gone - gone. Kai was never gone - gone from anything, even when people yelled at him to leave. He would disappear for a couple days, but he always came back. 

And somehow, after your interaction, you’d see him more frequently at the grill, too. He’d never talk to you, but you could feel his gaze. His stone cold blues would linger on you, almost like an animal stalking prey. 

It made you anxious, jittery. But somewhere, secretly, also a bit excited. 

He was dangerous in a way that drew you in. He had this aura about him that intrigued you as much as it scared you. You knew what he had done, and what he was capable of, and yet he still occupied the curious corners of your mind. 

And somehow, he seemed to know that. 

♫

How it happened from there is something you still question. Death glares became stolen glances, became blushing smiles, and by the next time he joined you at your booth, you didn’t try to fight him off. Kai ordered an uncharacteristically pink cocktail to match your own tropical choice. Neither said much as you both drank the rum mixtures down to the ice. You communicated in eye contact, mostly, as if daring the other to speak. Your stubborn personalities that should’ve clashed seemed to meld together instead. An intense staring contest was born. You found yourself entertained in the game, and quickly, enjoying it, too.

The booze soaked your brain as you continued to drink; your thoughts were fuzzy, and whenever you tried to catch them, they’d dissipate like cotton candy dropped in water. When Liv closed the restaurant around midnight, she unknowingly crashed the floodgates that weakly stood between you two. Ten feet out onto the street, you fell into him and he held you up. You laughed in his arms, partly due to your own drunken state, but partly that it’s Kai keeping you on your toes. He held you tight until you found your footing, just for you to crash your lips onto his unsuspecting own. The witch, taken aback but not opposed to it, let you taste him for a moment before kissing back. He pushed you up to the nearest wall, feeling and exploring, before hailing a ride back to your place. 

It had been forever for both of you. The uber driver with a ‘no touching’ rule sobered you up a little, but not enough to make you think twice about it. By the time he laid you down on your sheets, any doubt in your mind had fizzled out. He was a gentle lover, much to your surprise, likely because it was such an unfamiliar feeling to be so intimate with another. The little control you tried to take was met with a laugh, and you understood the signal. You didn’t mind being underneath him, though, nor did you mind him staying the night.

Guilt struck you when you first woke up in his arms, but not enough to barr yourselves from meeting again. The first few times you had to be drinking to convince yourself it was okay, but the more morning-afters you spent together, the less ashamed you started to feel. With time, nights started to feel less like hookups and more like something else. He became something you adored when you had, and craved when you did not. The feelings were mutual, though harder to pull out from the siphon, until you asked him directly, putting both your hearts out for the other to grab.

“What are we?” You asked, head leaning on the vending machine as he fetched himself a post-high gatorade. A bag of cookies were held in your own hand from the exchange you made one minute prior. 

“Having fun,” Kai replied.

“Kai…”

“Or so I think,” he followed his words, questioning the look on your face. 

“Are we anything more? Will we ever be?”

A loud voice down the hall that vaguely resembled his sister made a sharp remark to another person. His response sounded closer, as if they were heading in your direction. Kai grabbed your arm and muttered a simple cloaking spell until they both passed. Liv and Tyler both disappeared into her room, then Kai removed his hand. His touch lingered on your skin for a moment. You’ve grown to quite like the feeling. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’m not exactly the person for relationships, if you aren’t aware. I’m a sociopath that was locked in complete isolation for eighteen years.”

“I don’t care.” You grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together. “I like you. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to be more.”

“I’m not built for this.”

“But do you want it?”

His mouth went dry as he already knew the truth. He did. He wanted you so much, but fear held him back like a dog on a leash. He didn’t have much slack. “I want you,” he finally said. “I want this to work.”

“I’m not good at relationships, either. We’re figuring this out together.”

Kai seemed to accept that better, and two minutes later, he climbed back under the sheets with you, turning on a movie and sharing snacks until you fell asleep. 

♫

As your relationship progressed, it was tested, like all relationships ever are. You grew closer, more comfortable, as summer went on. Much of your time spent together was at night; you hadn’t told your friends, not ready for their questions nor their judgment, nor did you want the word out to his coven yet, afraid of whatever wrath his father could bring if he were to disapprove. You were still figuring things out, still learning about each other, and testing yourselves through time, and that was okay. Life isn’t something to be learned in a day, it’s something in which to be present to see where it takes you.

So, you let yourselves live, to do just that. On top of rooftops and beside small creeks, you snuck out to enjoy each other’s company. Mystic Falls has a lot of places to hide if you know where to look. 

A couple times, you’ve almost ran into others. More than anyone being Liv and Tyler, also avoiding her father. Once, you’ve ducked under bushes to hide from Bonnie. Kai kissed your neck while his hand was clamped over your mouth, daring you to give away your position, while playfully inhibiting your chance to do so.

Sometimes, you were drunk when you found yourselves venturing the town together. The bar in which neither Matt nor Liv worked became a hotspot for you. But instead of ending the night short, you opted to explore the late hours in each other’s company. The alcohol wore off quickly, but the drunkenness brought on by your unconfessed love never did. 

Kai, as it turns out, was easy to fall in love with. He was charming when you first met, but you were tickled to learn that underneath his manipulation tactics, he could be just as endearing authentically. He was a jokester and a flirt, whether across a room when you’d spot each other in public, or when you were hanging out together alone. You were never afraid to be alone with him. If your friends knew you were out with him, alone, at night, they would’ve freaked, but he always made you feel safe. And, once he felt comfortable being vulnerable with you, he revealed a side that could be sweet, too. 

Even after arguments, you were able to patch things up as if they hadn’t happened. Sometimes, he’d be bristling and volatile, but you knew that a lot of his anger came from a place of fear. You learned what to say that would calm him down; you told him what he needed to hear to feel safe again. You’d provide him with the comfort he’d always desired, and when he settled, he’d melt into your touch and softly request forgiveness.

You complimented each other perfectly. And while it took you a moment to name the emotion, the feeling had been there all along. It was love. 

♫

You were only slightly drunk the first time you realized the truth. Kai was painted in perfect, purple lighting, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when they met yours. You stumbled towards him and put your arms around his neck. He caught you, hands finding your waist. The music seemed to fade out as you swayed with him to the beat. It was as if a bubble captured you both, drowning out the rest of the world, making him your world, and in that moment, nothing else existed. You kissed him quickly, desperately, like an addict gone too long without a hit. He met you halfway, equally addicted. 

And then, because you were young, and stupid, and courageously in love, you blurted out the words swimming restlessly in your mind,

“I love you.”

You looked up at him, not expecting an answer just yet, but to offer an encouraging smile. Before your gaze even reached his, his body tensed. His hands felt like ice upon your nervously warmed skin, and his once-strong grip on your waist loosened. Kai wore an expression of confusion, different from the emotion that you tasted on his lips. You opened your mouth to retract the words, but nothing came out. The bubble that consumed you seemed to crack; the music previously blocked filled your eardrums once again. 

A fraction of a second later, you were guided to a hallway by your fingertips. The narrow path reduced some of the music, but most of the traffic. The man of your affection took to one wall, leaving you in the middle. You tried for his hand after he let it go, but dropped it at the discomfort he seemed to feel in having you hold it. 

You racked your brain for the right words, but nothing seemed perfect. You stared at the ground beneath your feet for a half second longer until he spoke, 

“You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t. What did I do wrong?” He only shook his head, prompting you further. “Was it what I said or when I said it? Because I don’t think it’s wrong of me to confess what I feel for you when I know that it’s true.”

“It can’t be true. You can’t feel that for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Provide me with a reason,” you interrupted, “or let me do as I please. I want to love you. I do, and I won’t apologize for it.” 

“Y/N-”

“We’ve had some tough times together, I know we have, but we’ve gotten through them. We - us, together - have worked through so much to get here. Of course I love you, there’s so much effort and, and, love, that connects us.” You paused, letting your thoughts catch up to your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t even have to acknowledge it, if you’re not ready. I know it’s a big step.”

“You can’t go there, Y/N.”

“I know, okay, maybe it was too much, too soon. I’m sor-”

“No, you can’t ever go there. You can’t love me and you shouldn’t. I’m not designed for relationships, they’re not meant for me. Do you not remember the things I’ve done?”

“We’ve talked about this, Kai. You confided in me about your fears, but we handled them, I thought. Do you not remember what I said?”

“I do, but-”

“‘Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway’.”

“By Poe,” Kai finished.

“And it’s true. I don’t care about the things you’ve done. I want to love you, and I do.”

“But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t excuse the things I’ve done just because you want to see me for someone who I am not. You shouldn’t be so desperate to see a difference in me that you convince yourself you love me.”

“What?! Kai, I’m not excusing nor am I desperate. I know you’re different from the you that wrought pain upon the town. That guy’s gone, buried, with this you in his place. And I quite like this you, and I’ve learned to love him, because his progress is worth loving. He is worth loving. You are.”

“The old Y/N would never say such things about her sworn enemy. You’d never dare hold his hand, nor kiss his lips, nor say such things, because you’d know better, and if you did, it’d be because of some horrible nightmare, or some instance where I spelled you to get what I needed, because Y/N, we’re living in a fantasy, and none of this is real.”

“I don’t understand! This is real! We’re here, together, and we were dancing, and we were happy, and now we’re in this hallway. Still together, but now questioning if the summer we’ve spent together has all been a hoax, or if that’s the booze talking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You have to be, to think what you’re saying is true.” You paused, heartbroken, and afraid to show it, but pretty sure the choke in your words already had. “So are you saying you’ve never meant it? All the times you’ve kissed me were just folly? Or the nights we stayed up until the sun rose again were only dreams I made up?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N. I know what we’ve done, and I know we’ve shared moments, but a fantasy is all this is for us. Something we want, but cannot have. We have to wake up some day.”

“I disagree, I think we can make it work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This was never supposed to be a long-term thing.”

“But we said it could be! We said it could make it work!”

“And that’s what makes it a fantasy! We both know that’s a lie.”

“Kai, I don’t understand. Ten minutes ago, we were fine. Yesterday, you gave me a kiss that swept me off my feet; that replaced all my organs with butterflies; that made me feel like full-bloomed roses on the nicest day of the year. You made me feel cherished, and happy, and beautiful, but now, I feel like I’m on the end of a well-thought out joke, and everyone’s finally allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not saying this to break your heart. I’m just trying to be realistic.” He reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek, but you smacked his thumb away. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but you still tried to talk through them. “I thought we were being realistic when we stayed up talking, all those nights, about how we knew each other’s flaws but were willing to work through them anyway. I would think, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t have spent a whole week together and considered getting an apartment to share, because we work just that well.”

“That only proves my point further. We haven’t been together long enough to make big decisions like that.”

“Then we’ll put it on pause and address it later.”

“Y/N-”

“Why are you doing this? Why does it seem like you’re giving up on us? Why are your words sounding like a preface to a break up?”

“Because they are,” he confessed, “because they have to be.”

“What do you mean, ‘they have to be?’”

“We can’t work. You can’t love me.”

“But I do, and I want to, and we do! We’ve managed to make it work, despite our-”

“But how long do you think we can keep this up? When will our differences outweigh our desires to stay together? When will we tell your friends about us? My family? We are too different for us to work, and I’m too damaged to be loved by you. We have to stop living in this fantasy.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.”

“So what, have you been planning this? Have you been waiting for the perfect time? Funny, that the perfect time seems to be when I tell you I l-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “don’t say it again.”

“What?”

“The less you say it, the less you’ll believe it.”

“That’s bullshit. I believe it in the deepest corners of my heart. You’re etched into my bones. You’re the shimmer of light in the darkest parts of my mind. I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it, and I won’t believe that I’ve made this all up in my mind. It’s okay that you don’t love me, but don’t you dare try to say you feel nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Tell me all the terrible things you’ve done, and let me love you anyway’.”

“You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have a choice. I don’t. I can’t control my heart nor its desires. It wants you; you have it. Tell me you don’t crave it. I know you crave love, Kai. I know it in the way you kiss me, and in the way you hold me. I know it from the time you confessed, at two in the morning when you were too tired to hold back, and I know it from when you told me, clear as day, on that Wednesday afternoon. I love you, and I’m not afraid to love you. Why don’t you give in to what I know you want?!”

Because your love isn’t mine to take. 

Because I don’t deserve it.

Because you’re a gemstone, perfect and pure, and I’m the dirt from which it was pulled.

“Because I don’t feel the same for you,” he said instead, “I’m not capable of love. I’m a sociopath, and anything I’ve ever said was for my own fleeting pleasure. It’s over now. I’m done. I’m bored with us.”

“What? No. Something’s wrong. This is not the same Kai I spent the summer falling in love with. Are you Damon in disguise? Pulling some sick prank?”

“I’m not, Y/N. It’s me, being realistic, and telling you I don’t love you, and I never will. It’s time to go home, Y/N, and to your own bed, in your own sheets.”

The tears streaming down your face run your make-up, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “But my sheets smell like you.”

“Then wash them.”

The harshness in his tone was unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. When you finally brought yourself to meet his eyes, there was no light inside them, no humanity. His jaw was tensely set, and for the first time in months, you saw the Kai that everyone feared when he had broken himself free of his eighteen-year punishment. Scared and sorrowful, you backed away from him. He didn’t follow. You backed further and further away until you were stumbling out of the bar. The wicked August heat kissed your neck like he used to -  passionately. You grabbed your hair, fumbling it up into a bun to get it off your skin, then searched for your phone to call a ride. 

As the white sedan approached your meeting spot, you trained your blurry vision on the door, but Kai never came out. He never shouted your name, hurried down the steps, nor caught you in an apologetic embrace, blaming his temporary ignorance on too much to drink. He never peered through a fingerprint-stained window, watching you from the glass, wondering if it's too late to take back what was said. It was just silent, as car engines roared and drunk couples chattered around you. 

When your ride finally came, you cried harder than you ever had in your life. Your driver glanced to the backseat, but didn't know a good time to interrupt, so he didn't. He offered a polite smile as you got out, thanked you for the five-star rating, and made sure you got in your apartment safely before pulling back onto the road. 

You barely made it through the door before crashing on the couch. Exhaustion settled in your bones halfway through the drive, and you couldn’t even think about climbing the stairs. The worst headache of your life pounded in your skull. Water was too far of a walk, so you let it throb. 

You tried your best not to think about Kai. His words rang in your head on repeat like an old antique bell - loud, heavy, constant. It almost felt like the whole night was a fluke. A nightmare. A spell, perhaps done by his father, or one of your disappointed friends. When you wake up, he’d be there, kissing your fingertips as the smell of coffee fills the air. You let this thought comfort you, and let it soften your heart. Although, deep down, you knew the truth. 

He wouldn’t be there. He didn’t want you. 

You’ve never known pain like this before.

♫

You can only ignore your friends for so long. Blaming a long to-do list can only give you so many excuses, and when Caroline messages you mid-afternoon on a Friday if you’d meet them at the Scull Bar, you realize you don’t have any more excuses left. So, cautiously, you pull yourself from your bed and drag your feet to your closet. You still haven’t washed your sheets, despite wanting to be rid of his once-comforting smell. It’s more stubbornness than anything, refusing to do the chore. If he thinks throwing a piece of fabric in the wash will rid you of him, he’s a damn fool.

You hadn’t been lying. He owns a part of your heart, and that can’t be simply washed away with some eco-friendly detergent.

Truthfully, you think, ignoring the heaviness in your bones as you enter the Scull Bar, the only way to remove him would be to carve out your heart entirely; to separate it from its lifeline and from all that’s familiar. But, you can’t, so you choose to let it bleed instead, and hope it doesn’t seep through your clothes. 

A vague sadness hangs above your heads, but none of your friends know the cause. You told them you were tired before joining them. You must not have gotten a good night’s sleep.

After all, it’s the first time in Mystic Falls where something tragic isn’t happening. Damon and Elena are planning out their lives, Stefan and Caroline are newly together, and Bonnie and Enzo, a quite unexpected pair, seem to be happy. Jo is five months pregnant, and Kai has left her alone. The girls wonder if that’s of his own volition, or if someone or something is distracting him, but you don’t offer any suggestions. When they then ask you about your own dating life, you only shrug. They tease playfully, having no idea about the wreckage your heart is still trying to piece back together. The cause seems hopeless. You don’t even have the energy to confide in them. 

The topic finally changes, but only because the one who dropped your glass heart enters. You turn when you catch a bit of his familiar cologne, but remind yourself he’s no longer yours and turn again just as fast. The girls let their gazes linger on him as if daring him to bother them, and for a moment, Kai wonders if you told them. But then, as they shrug and go back to their conversation, he knows you didn’t. Otherwise, they’d be hurling bitter words and sharp tools at him for breaking their best friend’s heart. 

And honestly, he wishes they were. 

It’s what he deserves, after all. 

♫

“I love you,” you had said, only a couple weeks ago. 

His heart stopped. His throat went dry. 

The words seemed to have been shouted at him, despite the booming bass around them. You weren’t yelling, though, you were simply telling the truth. 

A truth he wasn’t ready to hear. A confession he didn’t know how to process. 

How could you, a perfect person, love him, someone so tainted and dark? 

How could he ever love you the way you deserved? 

He did love you, of course. He knew it long before you ever confessed, but it was never something he felt okay to share. 

You always made him feel safe. Comfortable. Dare he say it, loved. 

But love was something he had never felt before, and to have something means that it can be lost. And to not lose it tragically, he must be the one to take it away. 

Hearing the words fall from your lips was both the best and the worst thing he could ever hear. He craves love, he knows he’s admitted it. He craves it more than anything else in the world. But wanting it and having it are two very different things, and now that he has it, he regrets asking for it. 

He had to hurt you then, before your soul could be completely shattered later. He had to stop it. Right then. Before he let you in too much and you got too attached.

So, he lied. 

He broke his own heart with every word, but it was nothing compared to the damage he knew it was doing to your own. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, hold you tightly, and say it was all just a spell - an outside force trying to drive you apart - but he couldn’t. His fear of hurting you triumphed over his love for you. His mouth spoke before his mind could process the words he professed. He became unrecognizable to himself by the time he delivered his final blow. Your tears stained your perfect face and your posture was defeated, but he was no longer the one that could offer any solace. He was now the one that ruined you, and there was no coming back from what he had done. 

How terrifying it is, that three little words can make or break you. 

How terrifying it was, to wake up the next morning and realize the damage caused. To have to come to terms with the fact that he had broken the only good thing in his life. To imagine the love of his life sitting on the couch, stirring coffee, with a head full of questions neither will ever be able to answer. 

“I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it…”

“I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Not Without You ~Casey Novak xFem Wife!Reader (Alex Cabot x Olivia Benson)

Summary— Casey Novak angst. No more spoilers than that! Approach at your own risk!!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: MATURE AUDIENCES, 18+!!, death, angst, really sad shit, murder, blood, gore, multiple suicides, unhappy ending, grief character death, crying, mentioned suicidal tendencies, etc.

Enjoy (:

The precinct room was tense. Nobody was moving a muscle. Everyone frozen. You stood right under the doorway. Everyone’s eyes were on her, on Casey.

It was crazy how wrong this had gone so quickly. The perp was holding Casey in front of him with a knife to the ADA’s throat. Her eyes were bulging in fear and you could see her body shaking.

You had walked into the situation, unintentionally, showing up to surprise your wife for lunch. And you had walked in to the precinct to find everyone with their hands up and staring at Case.

Your heart was racing and your breath was bated. Your mind started to spiral, as Elliot started to try and talk the perp down.

The man’s words blurred in and out of your understanding, you were too busy relieving your entire life with Casey. It was too fleeting. It wasn’t enough. This couldn’t be it. You and her had barely had anytime together.

The perp started to get more agitated. It seemed that anything Elliot was saying was only making it worse…

Before you knew it, you heard a sudden slice followed by a squelched scream… and blood splattering across the room…

your heart dropped. Then another slice, no scream this time. Your eyes fluttered heavily, you started to feel dizzy…

Your legs collapsed on themselves and you feel tumbling to the floor. Nothing made sense. How did it all go so wrong, so quickly…?

Tears started to flow from your eyes. You looked up toward the bloody scene, your vision was blurred and hazy. EMTs were rushing to the two bodies that lies laying on the floor.

Everything began to muffle, the sounds fading into the background. You got the sudden urge to throw up, and you couldn’t stop it, vomiting across the precinct floor in front of you.

You jolted as you felt someone’s hand on your back. You looked up to your left with sobbing eyes to see Olivia trying to talk to you. But you couldn’t hear her.

She tried to pick you up and turn you away from Casey, but you fought back. You fought with your life and soul to get to Casey. Olivia’s hold tightened, not letting you move, so in desperation, you began to scream.

“No! God please no!” as you collapse to ground again and scream in agony.

She picked you up from the floor again and quickly filed you out of the main room and into a separate office. You fought and fought but you just didn’t have it in you anymore. She sat you down, sitting next to you, still trying to tell you something.

This was when you noticed how much you were shaking. You couldn’t stop it. Your breathing was shallow and you felt like you were being blocked from the air in your lungs. This realization only brought more tears. Shock and adrenaline were now in full course and running rampant in your system, and you were really starting to feel the overwhelming effect.

Your eyes started to feel heavy and it all became too much. The last thing you remember is leaning against Olivia’s shoulder before shutting your eyes indefinitely.

~~

When you woke up, you were in Olivia’s apartment. You jolted upright with wide eyes.

Olivia was in her kitchen, but as soon as she heard your gasped breathing, she came into the living room where you laid on her couch. She immediately sat down next to you, bringing her hand behind your back.

“Hey, hey… sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re at my apartment. I didn’t think… it would be appropriate to go to yours…” Olivia explained softly.

For a moment, for a nanosecond, you felt at peace. And then it all hit you.

Her dead body, the life leaving her eyes as blood spilt everywhere, her twitching hand as she bleed out, her mouth which you swore was whispering I love you…

You started shaking again, and your breathing went shallow and spiked. Tears flowed freely and violently as you rocked back and forth on Liv’s couch.

“Oh god Oh God Oh God…” you choked out, your lip trembling as you tried to stifle your violent sobs.

“It’s okay, let it all out…” Liv comforted you.

You suddenly felt the rage in your body kick in. You swatted Liv’s hand away and stood up, filled with anger.

“Y/N?” The brunette asked.

“I… I need to go…” you mumbled, “W-where’s my stuff?”

“At the precinct still… Wait Y/N?!”

Before Liv could say another word, you were out the door.

~~~

You walked into the SVU precinct for the second time in twenty four hours that day. The first thing you saw was the blood stain straight in front of you as you walked in. You gulped.

More feelings came bubbling up but you shoved them down.

You marched into the Captain’s office and demanded your things. Cragen looked at you sympathetically and asked if you were alright.

“I’m fine…” you grumbled, “now please give me my shit back.”

Cragen obliged and you were quick your things and leave. You made it all the way home and to your apartment hallway.

But then you saw your apartment. The one you and Casey had gotten together. The one you had planned to raise kids together in.

You shakily placed a hand over your mouth before letting out more uncontrollable sobs. Your legs were threatening to give out on you, but you managed to stumble your way to the bedroom, collapsing on the bed and losing consciousness again.

~~

You couldn’t get out of bed for the next couple of days. You were in and out of either feeling completely numb or being it with all the grief at once. You were questioning reality.

Was this even fucking real…? How could this have happened…? What the fuck were you going to do…??

Throughout those days, you heard many people knocking, coming and going. Not much on your phone anymore, because you had let its battery run out, but when it was on, everyone on the team was calling and texting.

You knew they only wanted what’s best for you and that they wanted to make sure you were okay… But you couldn’t face them. If you faced them, that would mean it was real. And you couldn’t risk that. That would break you. More than you are already, it would shatter you into the abyss.

~~

Months had passed and you had gone from your bed to your couch. Nowadays, it was mostly the numb feeling. You’d gotten rid or moved any and all reminders of your late past wife.

You spent your days sleeping and crying. People always said it got better, but your pain when you felt it, was like the day you lost her. People were bullshit. You didn’t want anyone ever again. You didn’t want this. Didn’t want life.

On a good day, you had just enough energy to make it to the bathroom. Today, you had been in the bath for hours, already having refilled it twice. You had your head laid back as your line of sight hit a bottle of pills on your counter. Your gut tugged at you.

You could be with Casey again…

You leaned far with your arm and grabbed the pill bottle. You spun it in your hands and thought about it all.

She’s gone… never coming back… why not just skip the torture and be with her again…?

~~

“Alex…” Olivia breathed out with a light smile as the blonde ADA strutted down the street and towards the brunette detective with her signature smirk.

Liv, Elliott, and Alex then walked the crime scene and got themselves familiarized with this new case. And when they had a second at the precinct, she pulled Liv aside.

“Hey Liv, I heard about Casey Novak, Y/N’s wife… How is Y/N…?” Alex asked with light concern.

You and Alex went to law school together. You had been really close. Until she went into Witness Protection. Since then neither of you had heard from each other.

“I… Alex…” Liv sighed, rubbing her temples, “I haven’t heard from Y/N in months…”

Alex’s jaw nearly dropped.

“What…??” She exclaimed, “Liv that’s… that’s…”

“I know, I know… I just got caught up in cases and I thought she didn’t want me there by the way it went down and—” Liv rambled.

“No Liv…! It’s— Where does she live…??” Alex said in a panicked and concerned tone.

Liv quickly gave Alex the address, Alex stopped by Cragen’s office to let him know she’d be gone for some time, before the blonde practically ran out of the precinct.

Olivia was quick to follow, having trouble keeping up with how fast Alex was going. But she got to the blonde in the parking garage, stepping in front of Lex’s car before she could drive away.

“Alex! What is happening…??” Liv exclaimed.

“Get in the car!!” Alex called out.

Liv quickly got in the passenger seat and sped away.

“Lex… talk to me please…” Liv softly spoke, interlocking her left hand with her girlfriend’s right hand.

Alex took a deep breath as she sped down the roads to your place.

“Liv… When Y/N and I were in school, she got really close to a professor, she was like a mentor to Y/N… In our last year… that professor died…” Alex breathed out.

“Oh… I’m sorry…” Liv gently said.

“No Liv that’s not it. What’s it is what happened afterwards… Y/N started behaving oddly, becoming more reclusive and anti social… and then…” Alex gulped, and flinched a little at recalling these harsh memories, “Liv, she tried to kill herself.”

Liv’s whole demeanor changed, her eyes going wide. She felt guilt wracking her body.

How could she have been so stupid…? How could she have left you alone for so long…? What if..??

The car screeched to a halt just outside the apartment, and the two women rushed into the building. They ran up the stairs and Olivia had absolutely no hesitation in barging down the door. The women rushed into the room and looked around frantically.

Alex listened for you, and she faintly heard the sound of water running. Her eyes widened and she exclaimed,

“Bathroom, Liv, bathroom!!!!” Alex cried out.

Alex stumbled the bathroom door open and stepped into the overflowing water from the bath that was everywhere. She yelped desperately in distress. Tears started to run down Alex’s cheeks, as she placed a hand over her mouth, the other hand still on the doorknob.

Liv came rushing behind Alex and was just as horrified at the sight as Alex was.

The overflowing water… the empty pill body… your lifeless body..

“We-we need a bus…” Liv stammered into her radio, taking ahold of Alex.

Hell knows they both needed the support…

“It’s not your fault, Liv. Not your fault…” Alex whispered.

“Like hell it isn’t…” Liv breathed out.

~~~

Casey Novak Masterlist

Olivia Benson Masterlist

Alex Cabot Masterlist

[girlygguk]

promises | jjk (part 2)

he's the love of your life, but how much is too much before that just isn’t enough anymore?

second instalment of the promises drabble mini-series

solo idol!jk x ex gf!reader, angst, eventual happy ending (i hope...), 1264 words, bestest boy bammie appearance, bff taehyungie appearance, jk is in new york & oc is moving out

🎤 🖤 💐

it’s been two days.

you haven’t taken unplanned leave in years, but you took this week off, telling yourself it was to sort things out. hoseok, your boss, had smiled when you asked, immediately approving the six days with an encouraging wave of his hand. "take more if you need to," he said lightly, not knowing the reason and not needing to. you thanked him but declined. six days would have to be enough.

because if you gave yourself more time, you weren’t sure you’d ever pull yourself out of this.

jungkook left for his mini-tour two days ago. you felt numb — like none of this was real. like it couldn’t possibly be happening.

but it was.

you’d spent the last forty-eight hours swinging between disbelief and overwhelming guilt. you felt like the biggest bitch for doing this right before he had to step onstage, performing for thousands of people who came to see him smile, laugh, and sing like nothing was wrong.

you’d broken down, screamed into your pillow, and berated yourself over it more times than you could count. you’d almost taken it all back — almost grabbed your phone, called him, and begged him to come back because you couldn’t bear the thought of being the one who hurt him.

but that felt even worse.

because as much as you didn’t want this — and couldn’t fathom a version of yourself without him — you knew it had to be done. you had to try.

the memory of your last night together played on an endless loop in your head, equal parts comfort and torment. you’d hugged and cried, tangled together in the kind of intimacy you hadn’t shared in what felt like forever. you talked — really talked — for the first time in so long, about everything. about how much you loved each other. about how unfair this was for both of you.

because it wasn’t fair.

but then the clock struck eleven and jungkook’s voice cracked as he said he needed to get some sleep before his early morning flight because he still hadn’t packed. you nodded as you swallowed the lump in your throat and curled into him, your faces pressed so close you could feel the dampness of his tears on your cheek. wrapped in each other, cocooned in your heartbreak, you fell asleep.

an hour later, maybe two, you woke up. he was still asleep, his face soft and tear-streaked, his breathing heavy from exhaustion. quietly, you slipped out of bed, pulling the comforter up around him, careful not to disturb his rest.

you packed his suitcase for him, piece by piece. you cried as you folded his shirts, your fingers trembling with every crease. you cried harder when you set his wallet and passport on top, double-checking that everything was in order. and you cried the most when you opened his wallet and found that polaroid of you and bam, taken on the pup’s first birthday.

it had been early in jungkook’s career, and the stars had aligned that day, granting him a rare day off. you’d taken bam to the beach, splitting a cup of ice cream while jungkook got the puppy his own little treat. you’d laughed so hard when bam’s leash slipped out of jungkook’s hand, sending your overexcited puppy barreling toward a group of kids building sandcastles.

the memory of that little boy’s face when bam belly-flopped onto his castle still made you chuckle through your tears. jungkook had panicked, fumbling with his wallet to offer the boy a few hundred dollar bills to stop his sobbing, but you’d intervened, apologising profusely and offering to help rebuild. the mother had grabbed her kids and left, throwing you both a disapproving glare as jungkook stood frozen with a wad of cash in his hand.

when they were finally out of sight, you’d collapsed on the sand, laughing so hard your stomach ached. jungkook had stood there pouting, only for bam to jump on top of you in pure puppy joy, knocking him down with you.

it had been one of the best days of your life.

and now it was just a memory.

day three has been the hardest.

you thought it would get easier. that would only make sense, right? it’s not like you’ll never see him again. he’s your best friend. of course you’ll see him regularly… right?

but that thought, as comforting as it’s supposed to be, feels more and more like a lie the longer it sits in your chest.

you haven’t spoken much since jungkook left. he’s in new york now, and the timezone difference is horrible, like another constant, invisible wall standing between you. when you do text, hours stretch between responses, each one making the ache in your chest sharper.

he’s not okay. you know that.

he’s said it in more than one of his texts.

i don’t know what to do. i hate feeling like this.

the first time you read it, you almost spewed. now, every time you wake up and see another message like that, your heart breaks a little more. you bury your face in your pillow and cry quietly into the fabric before replying.

call me, you tell him every time. whenever you feel like this. even if i’m sleeping, i’ll answer. please, just call me.

he doesn’t.

instead, his texts come sporadically, words jagged, like they’re pulled from him only after he’s bled them out. you know he’s hurting — you can feel it even across the thousands of miles that separate you now.

yesterday, you watched his performance on good morning america. it was phenomenal. he was phenomenal.

your boyf—ex boyfriend was a born star. a vision, a golden light in the darkest of crowds. the audience loved him. his face lit up as he smiled at them, his energy shining through every word, every movement.

he looked so happy. he always looks happy when he performs.

and you will never be the person to take that away from him. ever.

“you ready, honey?”

taehyung’s voice cuts softly through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. you glance over your shoulder and find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his brown eyes soft, the leash in his hand twitching as bam pulls gently against it.

the handle of the bag in your hand loosens a little. your grip slackens. your legs feel unsteady, heavy as if they might give out entirely.

no, i’m not ready.

you force the words down, swallowing hard as you look back around the bedroom. the bed you once shared neatly made. the dresser with the chain he gifted you for your last anniversary draped over its mirror. the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the air. teasing you. taunting you.

“yeah.” your voice is low and flat as you turn to face him, a weak nod your only answer. “let’s go.”

you take his free hand and let him lead you out of your—the apartment.

the door clicks shut behind you, the sound sharper than it should be. final, almost.

your best friend’s grip tightens on bam’s leash as he leads you down the stairs, and you follow in silence, your fingers clutching the strap of your bag so tightly they begin to hurt.

when you climb into his truck, you glance out the window one last time, your eyes landing on the apartment you shared with the love of your life for the past four years.

the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

but maybe it’ll start to hurt a little less tomorrow.

[ashthewaterghoul]

I'm Still Your Favourite Regret, You're Still My Weapon Of Choosing - A Banana!Verse One Shot

It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck… Or, Dew and Alpha make an impulsive and rather permanent decision. The morning after, with the sun shining down on what they did, makes the two react in a less-than-healthy way for their now-bound souls.

Words: 3.1K

Rating: Teen and up (just bc of like a smidgen of sex talk)

Relationships: Alpha/Dewdrop, some background Swiver and Air/Earth.

Tags: Whatever the Ghoul-equivalent of getting impulse married in Vegas is, bc this is that, angst, whump, feels, unhappy ending, Alpha can't deal with his emotions, the morning after, mating bonds.

Inspired by @anotherbananasong 's universe.

Title taken from 'Blood Sport' by Sleep Token

~~~

    It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck.

    You barely had to look at Dew to know how much of a dive his self-esteem had taken since his forced transformation. His hair, his temperature, his very soul had been changed by whatever torture was laid upon him. Alpha had sat with Dew the first time he summoned flames to his hands, and the crushed look on Dew’s face said it all. He was broken.

    Alpha didn’t do emotions. He was the Ministry’s resident asshole. His Fire fuelled his every word and action and no one ever came to him for any of that teary, feely bullshit. He’d burnt those bridges long ago.

    So that’s why it came as a shock when Dew dropped the usual vague message for one of their nights together. Dew hadn’t been with anyone since waking up, so why was he getting that chance?

    Alpha found himself to be nervous for the first time he could remember as he walked up to Dew’s room. And when Dew opened the door so Alpha could duck through, he knew he couldn’t do it, couldn’t give Dew those biting words and harsh treatment he usually did. Dew’s eyes were red and raw from crying, his clothes looked like he hadn’t changed them for days and his entire demeanour was just completely and utterly sad.

    The door locked behind him, and Alpha found his mouth running before his brain.

    “I- I can’t, Dew. Can’t do this when you’re like that.” Since when was he considerate?

    “No! Don’t leave, please.” Dew begged, more tears falling as he threw his arms around Alpha.

    And that’s when Alpha felt it. The familiarity in the flames that coursed through both their veins. Two souls begging to burn together.

    As Alpha woke up, his face dropped at the feeling in his chest. There was something else there. The flames in his soul dancing with Dew’s own in an eternal duet. His hand was throbbing and a bloody strip of fabric laid on the other side of Dew’s nest. When Alpha looked at his palm, he held back a gasp as he looked at Dew.

    For the first time since the Ancients got Dew out of that Satan-forsaken ritual room, the little Ghoul looked peaceful. He must have been having a good dream because even asleep he was smiling like the cat that got the canary. He looked as young as he was meant to, not the haunted gaze he’d taken on recently. Alpha could feel the contentment thrumming in his chest. What was this magic? Why was he so attuned to Dew? What happened last night?

    “Mate with me. Give me your heart.”

Read below the cut or on ao3

“Oh shit.” Alpha said as the memories came back crystal clear. He held one hand in the other, a finger tracing the wound that matched one on Dew’s own outstretched palm.

    The little Fire Ghoul was so broken and Alpha had just gone and broken him even more. No, Dew was too good for this world. He’d been through so much; he didn’t deserve what Alpha always gave him. Careless and cold and cruel. He wasn’t sure how it even started, the dynamic between them. He doesn’t remember Dew asking for it, and he doesn’t remember ever wanting it. He always walked away from their sessions feeling dirty and guilty, even with aftercare and maybe a round of make-up sex. But he wasn’t for all the feelings and emotional intelligence. So, he always snuffed it all out and shoved it into the far corners of his mind.

    He got out of the nest, careful not to disturb Dew, and got his clothes back on as quickly as he could. A quick check in the bathroom to make sure his veil was in place and he beelined for the door.

    Dew rolled over and gave a contented little hum, still fast asleep and oblivious. Alpha surprised himself with the smile that grew across his face at the frankly adorable sight, but it was soon replaced by an unbearable guilt for what he’d done. He silently padded back over to the nest. He brushed Dew’s hair from his face, leant over and said the words he had said the previous night. Words he would never say again out loud when he knew people could hear,

    “You are so loved.”

    He gave Dew’s head a small kiss, then steeled himself for the walk back to the catacombs. Luckily it was still early so no one was out. River had been talking about going to Swiss’ for the night, Omega was probably still asleep, Lake was somewhere and so he just had to worry about not seeing-

    “Morning.”

    “Hey Alpha.”

    Oh great. The fucking lovebirds.

Alpha gave non-committal grunts to Air and Earth.

    “Is Dew okay?” Air asked. While Alpha would always call him a literal airhead, he knew what Dew and Alpha got up to. And it being so soon after Dew woke up, the concern in Air’s face the previous day when Alpha left for the little one’s room was severe.

    However, for Alpha the mention of his mat- the Fire Ghoul had him growling, tears once again welling up in his eyes.

    The rarely seen tears were enough to make both Ghouls freeze. Earth didn’t even have a remark to make about someone growling at his mate.

    Alpha went to his room, slamming the door behind him and falling to the ground against it. His tears were coming more rapidly now and just to boot he could feel Dew. He must be awake now and his own confusion and pain were radiating down the bond they now shared. It twisted Alpha’s heart, and he hated it. His throat burned with the sobs he was slowly failing to hold back so he ripped his veil off and held it to his mouth to muffle his cries.

    His pain and Dew’s swirled around in his chest. He never dealt with his own emotions, now he had to feel someone else’s?! Alpha grabbed at his shirt and balled up the fabric over where the bond was.

    Couldn’t it go away? Just go away! Alpha internally begged, crying and rocking himself until he felt something shift. Dew was getting nearer. Oh fuck no, he was coming down to the catacombs. So, Alpha did what he always did. He took his pesky emotions, locked them down and threw them into the back corner of his mind.

    There was no conceivable reality in which Alpha would ever be a good mate, so he promised himself he wouldn’t even try. Maybe it would push Dew away enough so they could ignore what they did, maybe the little one could find a mate who was truly worthy of him. And maybe Alpha whimpered as he felt it weigh down on the bond.

----

    Dew woke up feeling odd.

    Usually after his sessions with Alpha he was sore, or just tired. But this was different. The Ancient had left before Dew woke up but that was more common than not. Dew couldn’t quite explain why that hurt more than normal though. He shrugged, blaming it on the cut on his ha- Oh shit.

    “You are so loved.” Alpha had said as he held Dew like he was some sort of deity. Every pass of his large hands was nothing less than reverent as was everything he had done with Dew that night.

    Dew didn’t know he could be so genuine and heartfelt and in a rush of his own emotions he said something mad. He expected Alpha to say no, for the dynamic to shift back to what it usually was and all emotion to be lost. But Alpha kissed Dew oh so gently, took the spare veil Dew kept stashed in his room for any of the Ancients, just in case, and said, “Do you think this would work? We don’t have any of the normal ritual bindings in here.”

    The fabric was just a few feet away from Dew, soaked with both their blood and the infernal magic that the rites carried. That wasn’t the only evidence of what they had done last night. Dew could feel Alpha in his soul. His burdening turmoil weighed like a stone in Dew’s heart. It made him whine as he felt every note of pain his mate was in.

    Dew and Alpha may have made a very stupid heat-of-the-moment decision, but he always tried to be a Ghoul of his word. If he had a mate now, he would do his best and be a damned good mate.

    He pulled on his clothes and ran out of his room. Sure, his t-shirt was on backwards and he was completely barefoot, but he didn’t really care. Something in the bond came alive as Dew steadily grew nearer to the other end of it. He almost allowed himself a small smile at the warm fuzzy feeling of it until it was suddenly gone. It felt like a wall had gone up, and he couldn’t feel Alpha anymore. Not in the same intensity at least.

    Dew had to stop halfway down the stairs and grasp at his chest, ironically enough with the hand that bore the wound of their mating. Fuck, it hurt. Mating bonds weren’t supposed to do this. They were meant to be left wide open, conveying nothing more than the Ghouls’ love and commitment to one another. Dew started whining at the stone that had suddenly become a boulder in his chest.

    “Dewdrop?” The familiar voice of Air echoed up the stairs, his footsteps too as he drew nearer, falling to his knees to be closer to eye-level with Dew, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

    Dew, desperate for comfort his own fucking mate didn’t seem to want to give him, fell forwards against Air’s chest, managing to become somewhat acquainted with the pain that showed no sign of letting up.

    “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Dew.” Air soothed, wrapping his arms around the little Ghoul.

    The two stayed there awkwardly on the steps until Dew nodded and pulled away, “I need to speak to Alpha. Is he home?”

    Air’s eyebrows furrowed with concern as he nodded, “In his room.”

    Air led the way even though Dew knew the catacombs like the back of his hand, and Earth was waiting by Alpha’s door.

    “Nothing.” He said, to his mate as they approached. Dew’s own concern grew at Earth, of all Ghouls, being worried for the Fire Ghoul.

    Air knocked on the door, “Alfie? Dew’s here, can he come in?”

    There was silence from the room and Dew could feel the muted panic of the Ghoul inside.

    “Alpha, you’re never like this. We just want to help.” Earth added.

    Still nothing, and Dew could feel the bond being more and more shut away. His wounded hand still over his chest, he did his best not to show the pain all of it was causing him.

    “Satanas, fuck. Alpha! Open the door or I’m breaking it down!” Earth said in a much louder voice and angrier tone.

    “What are you shouting for? It’s too early.” Omega came from his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and scowling at the Earth Ghoul.

    “No need for breaking anything.” Air said to his mate, before glimmering away into the vents.

----

    Alpha was frozen in fear when he heard Dew’s name. He couldn’t face him, not after what he’d done. If he just ignored it, they would all leave him. He could come out in a few hours with his usual bite and snark and all would be back to normal.

    “What happened to your veil?”

    “Fuck!” Alpha startled, not noticing Air materialising in front of him, “Warn a Ghoul before you sneak into his room.”

    Air gave a small smile, “Maybe you should stop wrecking your veil and you’d notice me.”

    “I don’t know about that. Mattresses are hard to take any real notice of. And I didn’t wreck my-“ But as Alpha looked to the mound of fabric that until moments ago had still been up to his mouth. Not only was it stained from tears and snot, but dozens of fang and claw marks had been slashed through it in his frantic attempt for comfort. It was completely ruined.

    “Oh, fuck. I- I- I didn’t mean to! I promise! I-“

    “Hey, you’re fine. It’s fine.” Air assured, “It’s just cloth. This is why we all have multiple.” Air got up and walked over to Alpha’s wardrobe to get a fresh one.

    Alpha couldn’t rip his eyes away from the wrecked veil. Twice in twelve hours, he had desecrated what the Ancients used to show their faith, their worship, their commitment. His own was a burnt orange to match his Fire. It was a random idea when the Ancients started veiling that they would all have colours that matched to their Elements. Alpha called it dumb but he stuck with it. He couldn’t help that it complimented his eyes! As Alpha stared at it more, he realised it was now a perfect match for the shade of Dew’s eyes.

----

    Earth was anxious as Air disappeared into Alpha’s room. He didn’t like interactions between the two when he was present, let alone with a locked door in the way.

    “Everything okay in there?”

    “Yup, just a veil situation.” Air shouted back.

    Earth visibly relaxed, but Dew tensed. He knew how important the veils were to all the Ancients, especially Alpha. It had taken a while for the older Fire Ghoul to let Dew put his hands or face anywhere near it.

    A few moments later Air slipped out the door and shut it behind him before Dew could so much as smell Alpha within.

    “He, uh, doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” Air said regretfully.

    “Doesn’t want to see anyone? Or doesn’t want to see me?” Dew questioned.

    “He said ‘anyone’.” Air confirmed.

    Dew snarled low in his throat, his Fire prickling away under his skin. Alpha’s own much bigger, angrier flames burned with them.

    “Well then, he’s a big grown-up Ghoul. When he’s stopped fucking pouting and sulking like a kit, he can come talk to me like a fucking adult!” Dew raised his voice enough that Alpha absolutely would’ve heard him. He kicked the door, rattling it within its hinges, before turning around to leave the catacombs. He shouted as he left: “And I need another spare veil for my room!”

    Air, Earth and Omega were all left staring dumbfounded at each other and the space Dew had been standing in.

    Dew however, was seeing red and needed to be as far away from Alpha as he could. He stormed back up to his own pack’s dorms and his eyes narrowed when he saw Swiss’ door. He knew River had stayed over, he could hear them giggling as the TV played, and Dew decided No Happy Couples.

    He knocked and River answered, “Dew, you okay?”

    “No, I need Swiss.” Dew said shortly, his chest twisted as River’s face fell at his tone.

    “Oh, okay. I’ll, uh, head down then.” River mumbled, saying a short goodbye to the confused Multi.

    “The fuck, Dew?” Swiss said annoyed, everyone knew how sensitive River is.

    Dew couldn’t hold back anymore and started bawling.

    Swiss’ frustration completely faded as he rushed over and gathered Dew up in his arms. Swiss was no Ancient but he was still taller than Dew and carried him over to his nest. Swiss tried to get Dew to talk but he just shook his head as he cried, carefully keeping his hand balled up and hidden.

    He managed to fall asleep for a while, and when he woke up, there was one glorious moment where Dew thought the larger body wrapped around him was Alpha’s. But reality soon came crashing down on top of the boulder that had remained rigidly in place. He thanked Swiss, apologising for ruining his morning with River, and went back to his own room.

    Dew tried to clean up his room, put it back so it looked just as it did before Alpha had arrived, trying to erase what they did. As he picked up the veil they had used to bind their souls, Dew felt his eyes welling up again. He wanted to burn it so bad. Say a big ‘fuck you’ to Alpha and destroy the fabric that held so much significance to him, with the flames he had taught Dew to use. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

    Instead, Dew raised it to his nose. It smelt so delectably of the two of them. He hid it under a pillow and continued fixing his nest. What he didn’t realise was that as he shoved the fabric away, he shoved the bond away and closed it off, just the same as Alpha had.

    Alpha wanted to be stubborn and play this game? Fine, he could do it. But as Dew was learning to dance with the flames, he was also learning that he could go on too. Dew would pretend that none of this had bothered him, and it would just be more fuel for their hateful dynamic.

    In reality? Dew couldn’t sleep until he was clutching that bloodied veil to his chest, smelling the both of them on it.

    And as for Alpha, he kept the veil he had wrecked that morning too. Because after his nose had pushed past the scent of his own misery, he could smell where Dew had held onto it and begged Alpha to be his, for their souls to be one.

    It was only in the moments in the dead of night, when he was sure Dew was asleep, that Alpha would lift that veil up to his face and wish the little Fire Ghoul himself was there with him, to kiss away his tears just as he did for Dew did on that fateful night.

    The two fell into a game of circling each other, silently trying to goad the other into breaking first. They never spoke about it and refused to acknowledge the bond that tied their souls together forevermore. They didn’t seem to care that by hurting each other they were only hurting themselves.

    Every time Dew tried to get Alpha to just look at him, he was treated like nothing more than a smear of shit on his boot. And Alpha never even tried to get anything from Dew other than to be left alone.

    It landed them in an endless cycle of their flames fully coming out for each other and neither were willing to even try and douse it out. Always yearning for love and comfort, and not realising they could have it in each other if they just let it happen. Forever stuck in an eternal world of shared misery that they isolated themselves in.

a/n: ...…Until Earth says ‘fuck this shit’ and beats Alpha to pulp for being such a dickhead.

One shot master post can be found here!

[onlybeeewrites]

A Toast

Requested: no, but I had a rare inspo with my favorite Bridgerton Boy

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, no happy ending for you (sorry Queen )

Word count: 1.3k

"Must you go?” The young man whined, rolling in the tangle of soft bedsheets and downed blankets. His hair unruly and all over the place from your night spent together. Your clothes strewn all over the fire-lit room.

The evening was already late, the spring air getting cold as the hours without the sun cooled the streets outside, making a soft chill in the air. You had climbed off the bed, clutching one of the many blankets around you for some sort of decency. Though as you stood beside the bed, you turned and grin at the man in the bed. Though he was not your husband, but someone you certainly wished to be. He instead was simply someone you had spent endless hours with, wanting a shared bed together every few nights when you could find time to escape. “I must,” you say with a sigh, “you know I must,” you remind him, walking back over to his side.

“I would spend the entire night with you if I could. But if I am caught coming home late, my father with put bars my windows,” you teased, pressing a kiss to Benedict’s lips.

Though that was the first mistake because his arms worked his way around you and pulled you back down to bed, “and I shall come to your rescue,” he announced, keeping you close. His hands running down your bare back, making shapes and such on the warmth of your skin.

A smile grew on your face, moving your hair out of your face to get a better look at him. “Sure you would,” you said, sarcasm practically dripping from your words. The idea of Benedict coming to your rescue was amusing, mainly because it never would really happen. “But I really must go!” You insist, pulling away from his arms. From there you moved around the room, collecting your clothing items, getting redressed. All while Benedict watched from the comfort of the bed you both shared.

“It really is a shame you must go. When may I see you again?” He asked eagerly, his arm resting against the back of his head as he watched in the dim light. He allowed his eyes to rake over your form up until you had clasped the dark cloak around you. The only thing that allowed you to come to these secret meetings of passion.

You gave him a look, walking back over. Your small heels muffled by the soft carpet beneath your feet, “I shall let you know,” you say, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton,” you say teasingly against his lips. With that, you pull away and slipping out of his room, out of the apartment, and into the night as you had done almost a hundred times before. Though unaware of the last time.

The thought of your last meeting with Benedict lingers in your mind while the candle light glimmered against the sharp crystal that decorated the home. The sweet smell of cakes and other sweets filled the air. The sweet memories flooded back to your mind so quickly it had only made you dizzy. Or perhaps that was the heat of the summer night. Or perhaps it was the one too many drinks you had consumed that night.

Though one thing you couldn’t shake was the eyes. All the eyes that were upon you. And it was like you remembered where you were. What you were doing. What was happening. What you are supposed to do.

The crowd of people was filled with what was almost a hundreds of eyes. The room almost filled to the brim. Full of your family, close and distant, friends, and other respected members and families of the Ton. And you cleared your throat, lifting your glass to the gathered crowd, all adorned in their nicest clothing. You remembered what you were standing at the top of the staircase for, holding your glad of champagne.

“A toast to the groom,” you say, your speech starting. And your eyes flickered over to Benedict. Standing tall, an expression of fondness on his handsome, clean shaven face. He looked as handsome as ever, adorned in a new black suit, fitting him like a glove. There was a wash of happiness over him. And the entire room smiled, glancing over to the Bridgerton with fondness.

You remembered all the times you had spent with him. At balls, in the art galleries, in the twisted sheets, rather improper of you, but the things that Benedict had lured you too. Though sworn to secrecy, your little meetings were something you had looked forward to. Something you had not experienced in months even though you’ve seen him almost every day in your tea room.

“To the bride,” you then say, the smile coming to your face. The bride. Your dearest, older sister. Who had been smitten by Benedict the moment she had seen him. She had been speaking with some friends at the hall of the beginning of the season when she had seen him. Having been away studying in Paris, your sister was freshly returned.

And perhaps that is what drew Benedict back to her. Perhaps it was your older sister’s charm, beauty, cleverness and education you never would have gotten. Or would get. She had gotten very lucky in that department. Brains and beauty.

You remember her speaking with Benedict for the first time. How her eyes lit up. How his eyes lit up too. Those beautiful blue eyes that you had spent hours staring into. Falling for. Speaking to about nonsense until the dead hours of the night. But it seems your sister did too. The only difference was that his eyes didn’t light up with you. Perhaps lit up with mischief, excitement for what the night would bring. But not this kind of intrigue. And that was the night you knew your little rendezvous with Benedict were over.

You couldn’t do it.

Not with how your sister had been looking at him. Not with how he was looking at her. And so you stopped. But he didn’t seem to really mind. Because he started showing up at your home. Not for you, but for her. Calling upon her with different sorts of gifts. Flowers, paintings, jewelry. Everything that she would adore, while you had to sit aside with your parents and watch as their bond only grew, and your bond ever slimmer.

You knew if you told your sister of your feelings of him that she would give him to you in a heartbeat. But you couldn’t do that to her. Not with how her face lit up when he would come in. So you’d be silent, watch as their love and happiness grew as your own ache did.

And grow it did. After weeks and weeks and month of courting. He proposed. You remember it all happening. The excitement on your sister’s face, the disbelief and joy. The relief and excitement in Bendict’s. It was surprising considering he had told you so many times that he wasn’t one to marry, to settle. Your sister must have been something special to change his mind.

Shaking from your thoughts, you focused again. Your smile grew again, though a bit forced. You were happy for your sister, you truly were. But it also hurt to see the very man who you spent hourless nights with, talking about what you’d both do; the possibilities of the future. But you realized then that the two of you had no future, not in the way that you had hoped.

“From your sister,” you continued, “who will forever be by your side. No matter what. And I wish you both the upmost happiness.” You finish, “congratulations,” you add as the glasses clinking could be heard before everyone took a drink.

Though you had allowed your sister this happiness, you’d struggle to cope. Knowing she was at the end of Benedict’s love, something that you would never feel or properly know of.

But that was okay. Because as long as your sister was happy and in love, you would be satisfied, even if you were not.

[phoebe-delia]

Friend!! For the writing prompts… let’s see. How about……. good luck babe by chappell roan. Or if you don’t want a song prompt, how about: pool day / cookout / bank holiday weekend etc

✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨ to you dear friend!

Oh, oh Elaine, @oknowkiss you know the way to my little writer's heart!! Thank you for the prompt options, my lovely friend. What a great selection! I do love a good angsty song prompt, especially one with these themes. This is Drarry gold; I'm not sure why I didn't think of it sooner, to be honest.

Based on "Good Luck Babe" by Chappell Roan. Big big thank you to my darling @basicallyahedgehog for looking this over. cw: angst, unhappy ending, implied infidelity (not really between Harry and Draco)

"I don't think this is working."

Draco's fingers freeze in their task of buttoning up his shirt. He blinks at himself in the mirror once. Twice. "I'm sorry?"

His eyes shift to Harry in the reflection. Draco feels a bit disgusted with himself at the immediate rush of affection for him; for this man with his cotton shirt and boxers, now nervously running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

"I've had a great time with you these past few months," Harry says. "But I don't think this will work out. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear, but you deserve the truth."

Draco’s speechless for a long moment before he asks, “And what is the truth, Harry?”

Harry looks away, and Draco nearly snaps at him to at least have the decency to make eye contact while breaking his heart—but he doesn’t.

“The truth is that I don’t think this will work out,” Harry says carefully. “There are certain…responsibilities and considerations I have to make—”

Draco scoffs. “Bullshit. It’s because of her, isn’t it? You’re leaving for her.”

Harry flinches. “N-no. I just…”

“You’re a lot of things, Potter,” Draco says coldly, fingers moving quickly to finish buttoning his shirt, “but a coward hasn’t been one of them. Until now.”

“Draco, please—”

"Fuck off." Draco grabs his wand and strides out of the bedroom.

He heads for the door, but Harry beats him to it, blocking his exit. “Just wait—”

“Get out of my way.”

“No, Draco, not until we talk about this.”

“What's there to talk about? You already said this isn't working. Why try to fix what you purposefully broke?” Draco spits the last word like poison, relishing the way Potter winces.

"I just want to explain."

“No! You said I deserve the truth, but the truth is, I pity Ginevra," Draco sneers. "She’ll get your name and your ring. But she’s got no idea she’ll be marrying a man who closes his eyes and fucks her while thinking of men,” Draco's sneer twists into a cruel smirk. “Of me.”

“But....I love her,” Harry whispers.

“You love her like a sister, Potter.” Draco reaches forward, using a finger to lift Harry’s chin until their eyes meet. “But she could never make you feel the way I do. No one can.”

Draco surges forward, capturing Harry’s lips in a heated kiss. Harry gives in immediately, and he barely seems to notice when Draco flips them around and presses himself against the door.

He pulls away, panting against Harry’s lips, and reaches one hand behind himself to grasp the door handle. “Have a good life, Potter. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

With that, Draco opens the door behind himself and steps backward. He slams it shut, but the last thing he sees as the door closes is Harry, staying silent, but with one hand outstretched, reaching for him.

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