#coffee for your head

[mellowmusings]

death bed | coffee for your head

Azriel x sick reader part. 2

A/N- I had the idea for this when I heard the song and instead of sick Azriel I made a sick reader, please don't kill me and let me know if you wanna be tagged. Enjoy :). Warning- Angst, reader is depressed and sick, Azzie baby is depressed too. Mainly a really sad fic (mentions of death due to illness). Summary- You had been sick for sometime now and upon visiting a healer you find out the reason, unsure how much time you have left, you wish to spend every second of it preparing Azriel for the moment you leave.

'Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed'

You were tired to say the least, for the past few nights you hadn't been able to sleep at all, and your sweet mate was worried sick for you, and so you had to change your plans for the day, ditching shopping for a visit to Madja instead.

A bell rang as you step into the healer's shop, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and incense, instantly calming your nerves. Soft light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on shelves cluttered with jars, vials, and bundles of plants you didn't recognize. The space felt ancient, yet welcoming, as if it held the quiet weight of countless healing rituals. A small wooden counter sat at the back, covered with bottles and unmarked potions. The faint sound of wind chimes hung in the air, but it’s the stillness that stood out—everything in this room felt intentional, designed to soothe, to listen. There attending to a small plant with the smallest flowers you had ever seen stood Madja.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep I don't wanna pass away I've been thinking of our future 'Cause I'll never see those days I don't know why this has happened, but I probably deserve it I tried to do my best, but you know that I'm not perfect

You felt like throwing up, surely this was a joke? it had to be a joke, no she was lying or maybe you had misheard her, it had to be that way, right? "I know this can be shocking news y/n but like I said it's also a very rare illness" "No,no you're lying please tell me you're lying". She begged. Her voice broke on the last word, she couldn't breathe she felt choked, she wanted to throw up but instead she just fell to her knees and cried her heart out.

I've been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health When I leave this earth, hoping you'll find someone else 'Cause, yeah, we're still young, there's so much we haven't done Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son

She didn't know how long she spent crying there with Madja comforting her and stroking her back, she was in shock but more than that she was worried for Azriel, if something happened to her then- No, no she wasn't going to think about that right now but for some reason her thoughts kept circling back to Azriel, to the quiet that would fill the room when she was gone. He’d wake up, reach for her, and feel nothing but emptiness. The bed would be cold, the silence too heavy. He’d feel it in the small things—no more shared glances, no more soft words in the dark.

Would he be okay without her? She couldn’t shake the fear that the grief would swallow him, that the shadows he kept so tightly contained would consume him without her there to pull him back. Would the memories be enough, or would they slip through his fingers? The thought of him unraveling, of him breaking, made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wouldn’t be there to catch him, and that terrified her.

Her gaze caught on a lovely family in the park, children being chased by their dad, their mom laughing at the scene and smiling lovingly at her partner, right, she would never be able to have that with Azriel either. Maybe, one day he'll find someone else, who'd love him just as much as she did, someone who'd start a family with him, give him heirs as lovely as he is. She hoped so because if Madja was right then-

I wish it could be me, but I won't make it off this bed I hope I go to heaven, so I see you once again My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed, yeah

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Yeah, I'm happy that you're here with me I'm sorry if I tear up When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up Taking goofy videos while walking through the park You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark

You lay back against the pillows, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. Azriel sat beside you, his fingers gently brushing over your hand, but the tension in the air was thick, suffocating. You could feel the worry in his touch, in the way he kept glancing at you, like he was afraid to miss something, afraid to lose you before he could even understand what was happening.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice trembling as you gathered the courage to finally say the words. "I’m sick." You tried to keep your tone calm, but it cracked as soon as the words left your lips. "The healer said it’s a rare heart condition. Something... incurable."

His face froze, eyes widening with disbelief, and he leaned forward, as if to pull you into him, to somehow shield you from the world. But you didn’t want his protection right now. You wanted him to hear this. To know the truth, even if it shattered him.

"I wish it could be me," you continued softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I wish I could take it all. The pain. The time. But I��" You faltered, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. "I won’t make it off this bed, Azriel."

His hand tightened around yours, his breath shaky, but he said nothing, his eyes begging you to take it back, to tell him it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

"I hope I go to heaven," you murmured, forcing a small smile through your tears. "So I can see you again. One day, after this... after all of this."

Azriel’s face crumpled with pain, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached for you, pulling you close as if he could somehow hold you together, like he could make everything right if he just tried hard enough. "No," he whispered, his voice raw. "No, please. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me." It hurt to see the brave and stoic shadow singer crumble infront of you over such a small matter, he had faced death time and time again, but never had you seen him so broken.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of him holding you, but there was no denying it now. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep fighting against what you knew in your bones was coming.

"I’m not ready," you whispered, voice barely audible, "but I think... I think you need to be. This is the reality now, Love. I won’t have much time left."

Azriel held you tighter, but it was clear that he was barely holding on himself. You could feel his heart racing against yours, the fear, the love, the desperation. But you knew, deep down, there was no way to stop it.

"I just need you to be ready," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Because I won’t be here for long. I need you to promise me something, Az."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face a mask of agony, but he nodded, clinging to your every word.

"Promise me you won’t forget me," you said, the ache in your chest growing, but you didn’t want him to carry this burden forever. "Promise me you’ll live, not survive, but live, even if I’m not there."

He pressed his forehead to yours, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped moving. "I’ll never forget you," he said hoarsely. "And I’ll never stop loving you, not even after…"

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek, but you could feel the finality of it, the quiet acceptance in your soul that you had already said goodbye. "I know. But you have to promise me, Love. Please. Live, for both of us."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy, inevitable. And in that moment, you let go. You accepted what was coming, not with peace, but with a sorrow that was too vast to express.

Azriel didn’t say anything after that. He just held you, and in the silence of the room, you both faced what you knew was coming, as painful and unbearable as it was.

Cuddle in your sheets, sang me sound asleep And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03 Sundays went to church, on Mondays watched a movie Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

You were curled up against Azriel, the quiet crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. He held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world. The memories flowed easily now, the ones you both cherished, the ones you were trying so hard to relive, to hold on to.

"Cuddle in your sheets," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "like we used to, like we did so many times. You’d sing me to sleep, your voice soft, your hand in my hair."

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your skin as if committing the sensation of this moment to memory, the feeling of your body pressed against his. "I’ll sing you to sleep forever if I can," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "But you know... I think the best part was sneaking out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03. I used to look at the clock, and I knew you’d be there. We’d laugh, sneak away like we didn’t have a care in the world."

You chuckled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought. "Sundays, we went to church together. Mondays, we’d watch a movie, get lost in each other’s company. Simple, sweet. And it was ours." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, a small, sad smile on your lips. "I wish we had more of those Mondays."

Azriel's eyes softened with the weight of your words, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. "We still have now," he said, but even he knew the truth in the heaviness of his words. Time was running out.

You closed your eyes, trying to soak in every moment, every detail. You could feel the pain of the inevitable, but for tonight, for this brief moment, you clung to the idea that you could still make new memories. "But soon you'll be alone," you whispered, a sob escaping before you could stop it. "I’m sorry that you have to lose me."

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his face pressing into your hair. "Don’t say that," he murmured, though his voice was thick with sorrow. "I’ll never lose you. Not really. Not in my heart."

You nodded, your body trembling in his arms. "I hope so," you whispered, holding him tighter. "But I’ll always love you. Every memory, every laugh, every quiet Sunday. I’ll carry those with me, even when I’m gone."

And for a moment, time felt still, like the universe had paused just long enough for you both to hold on to each other a little tighter, to try and make every second count before it was all gone.

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your own, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to constantly settle in your bones. Your breathing was shallow, weak, each rise and fall of your chest an effort, and yet, despite it all, you smiled up at him. It was the kind of smile that told him you were fighting, even when it seemed like there was no fight left in you.

"I don't want you to stay awake for too long," you whispered, your voice thin, but still full of the love you carried for him. "I know you watch over me, but you need sleep too, Azriel." Your hand squeezed his, the action small but intentional.

He looked at you, eyes filled with an ache that ran deeper than the shadows that normally clung to him. His gaze searched your face, searching for something, anything that might bring you back to him, but there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming. His grip tightened, but he didn't speak. What could he say? Every word felt like a lie in the face of what you both knew was inevitable.

"You've been so strong," he finally whispered, voice hoarse. "Please, don’t give up on me now." His thumb stroked over your knuckles, as if grounding himself in the reality that, in his heart, he knew you were slipping away.

You let out a soft, raspy laugh, and though it was faint, it made him want to smile, even though the pain was consuming him. "I’m not giving up," you said, each word a battle, but the light in your eyes still bright enough to pierce through the darkness. "I’m just… trying to make the most of the time we have left."

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tightening, but you gently cupped his cheek, urging him to look at you. "Don’t stay awake for too long," you repeated softly, your hand slipping into his as you pressed it over your heart. "Don’t go to bed, not yet. I’m still here. I’m still with you."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin, a small reminder of how much he loved you. How much he needed you.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Let me make you coffee in the morning, just like we used to. I’ll get you out of bed. I’ll help you find your strength again, just like before."

You smiled at him, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. "I’ll make the coffee," you whispered, "when I can. I’ll make sure you get through it, even after I’m gone. I wrote you letters. Letters for the years to come, so you’ll know I’m still with you. So you’ll know that I’ll always love you, even when I’m not there."

Azriel’s heart shattered. "No," he said hoarsely, "No, you can’t leave me." His voice broke at the end, the rawness of his fear leaking through. You were fighting so hard, so fiercely, for him, but he couldn’t stop the truth from settling in his chest.

"You’ve always been my strength, Azriel," you whispered, your voice so soft, but so full of love. "And I’ll be yours, even when I’m not here to hold you. I need you to live. To keep fighting. And when the days feel long, when the nights feel too empty, I want you to read those letters. They’re for you. I’ll make sure you find your way."

Azriel couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He leaned down, kissing your forehead, his lips trembling against your skin. "I’m going to keep you here with me, in my heart. Forever. I promise. I won’t forget, I swear it."

You smiled through the tears, despite the weariness that clung to your body. "I’m not leaving you, Azriel," you whispered, "not really. Not ever."

But the truth, unspoken between you both, was that you didn’t have much longer. And still, you fought, not for yourself but for him, so he could have something to hold on to after you were gone.

"Please," he begged softly, his voice breaking, "don’t leave me."

You brushed a tear from his cheek, as your voice trembled, "I’ll never really leave you, Azriel. I’ll always be with you. In every letter, in every thought."

You paused, a soft, warm breath escaping your lips. "I’ll get you out of bed, Azriel," you whispered, a hint of a smile on your face, "I’ll get you going again. Even if I’m not there to see it."

His tears fell freely now, but there was a quiet peace in the way he held you—knowing, with an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow him whole, that he would carry you forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

A few weeks had passed, and the weight of each day was beginning to take its toll. The glow in your eyes had dimmed, and your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. Azriel stayed by your side every moment, his presence constant, like a shadow you never wanted to be without.

He had been trying to hold on to the last threads of you, keeping the hope alive that maybe, somehow, you would pull through. But he knew. He knew with every soft breath you took, with every fleeting smile you gave him, that time was slipping away from both of you.

Today, though… today it felt like everything was slower. The air in the room was thick with an aching kind of quiet, the kind where even the heartbeats that echoed in the space between you seemed too loud.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, his arms around you, pulling you close like you’d always been. His fingers lightly traced the line of your jaw, like he could imprint your face into his soul if he touched you long enough. His lips pressed to your forehead, trying to pour every ounce of love and comfort he could into you, but it felt like it was never enough.

You had grown weaker. Your skin was pale, your breathing labored, but you still smiled at him when your eyes fluttered open.

"I’m still here," you whispered softly, your voice raspy but filled with the love you had for him. "I’m still here, Azriel."

He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, his throat tight. "You don’t have to fight anymore," he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. "I’ve got you. I’ll never let you go."

You smiled faintly, your hand reaching for his, weak but determined. "I know," you whispered. "I know… but I have to tell you something, something important."

Azriel leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Anything," he breathed. "Tell me anything, love. I’m listening."

"I wrote letters," you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. "For the years to come… For you. So you know I’ll always be with you, even when I’m not." He silently promised himself would read every letter you left behind, each one a piece of your love, keeping him alive in a world where you no longer were.

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sob breaking free from deep inside him. "You don’t have to go," he said, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of everything he wished he could say, everything he wished he could change. "I can’t… I can’t lose you."

A tear slipped down your cheek, but your smile didn’t fade. You reached up with trembling fingers, tracing the line of his jaw, as if trying to memorize him the way he had memorized you. "You’ll be okay, Azriel. You’re so strong. You’ve always been strong. Just—just remember that I love you. I always will."

His breath caught in his throat as he kissed your hand gently, his voice cracking. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you more than I could ever put into words."

You closed your eyes, your hand slipping from his, but he caught it again instantly, holding on as if it would keep you tethered to him, keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing grew even more shallow, each one taking more effort than the last. Azriel could feel the tremor in your body, the slow, inevitable shift that told him everything he feared was coming. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

"I’m not ready to let you go," Azriel murmured, his voice hoarse, tears streaming down his face as he held you in his arms. "I’ve never been ready to let you go. Not now, not ever."

You gave him one last, gentle smile, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. "You’ll always have me," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "In every letter, in every thought, in every coffee you make. You’ll find me again, in the quiet moments. I’ll always be with you."

And then, as if your body had finally found peace, your chest stilled. Your breathing slowed, and for the first time in weeks, there was complete silence. Azriel’s heart shattered, his breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

"No," he choked out, his voice breaking, his chest heaving with the weight of loss. "No, please…"

But there was no response. Only the soft, quiet sound of his heartbeat echoing through the silence, as if trying to fill the emptiness you left behind. His arms tightened around you one last time, as if holding you could bring you back, as if love could defy death.

For a long while, Azriel stayed there, clutching you to him, his tears falling onto your skin. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. He needed to hold you, to feel you close, to believe, for just a little longer, that you weren’t truly gone.

And in the stillness of the room, as the shadows of night stretched across the floor, Azriel whispered the only thing left in his broken heart.

"I’ll always love you. Always."

The room was silent. Still. But his words lingered in the air, a promise he would carry with him forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel stood at the edge of the balcony, staring into the endless void of night. The stars above seemed to mock him, distant and cold, twinkling as though the universe was still moving forward, as though life was continuing. But for him, everything had stopped.

The wind swept through the courtyard, its icy fingers clawing at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled deep in his chest, in his soul. He had not moved from that spot since… since that moment. The moment she had slipped away from him, her final breath trembling in his arms, leaving nothing but an echo of the love they had shared. The world felt like a hollow, silent place, and he was drowning in its emptiness.

He could still smell her, faintly. Her scent lingered in the air, in the folds of the blanket she had used to curl up in, in the spaces between the letters she had written him, all the things that were now gone—faded into the dust of the world she had left behind.

Her letters. He had read them, over and over, each one a tear-streaked page of her love for him, a love he could no longer feel against his skin, in her touch, in her smile. He had read her last words, over and over, searching for some kind of comfort. But the comfort never came. The words she had left behind—I’ll always be with you, Azriel—only left him feeling more alone. Her absence was a shadow that consumed everything.

"I’ll always be with you," he muttered bitterly to the darkened sky, as if the universe owed him something. "Where the hell are you now?"

He wanted to scream. To shout into the abyss that had taken her from him, to demand it give her back. But what was the point? The universe didn’t care. Time didn’t care. And now, all that was left was his hollow existence.

The days blurred together, the ache of her absence cutting deeper with every passing hour. He had stopped sleeping, stopped eating. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but exist, moving through each day as if in a fog. The shadows whispered her name—her voice, her laughter, the warmth of her skin against his—and all he could do was shut his eyes and pretend he didn’t hear them.

But the silence… the silence was the worst.

Everywhere he went, there were reminders. The empty corner of the room where her chair used to sit, the books she had loved scattered across the table, the coffee mug she had left on the counter—his mug now, though it meant nothing. All of it was just a reminder that she was gone, and he was left alone, trapped in a world where nothing made sense without her. Without her laughter, without the way she’d tease him in the mornings, the soft way she’d press her face to his chest when she needed comfort.

She had been everything to him. His light, his warmth, his reason to fight. And now…

The darkness pressed in on him, a crushing weight on his chest. His wings, once majestic and powerful, now felt like an anchor. He had no use for them anymore. They had carried him through battles, through pain, through moments of glory. But now they felt like a reminder of how empty he was. How much of a shell he had become.

The weight of the silence was unbearable. He could feel the crushing loneliness clawing at him, desperate to consume him whole. And as he stood there, staring out into the endless night, he almost wished for it to. He almost wished for the silence to swallow him, to take him with her, because what was the point of living in a world where she wasn’t there?

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered to the darkness, his voice cracking. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, each one a reminder that he was still alive—still breathing, even though every part of him screamed to be gone. To be where she was, wherever that was, because life without her felt like a slow, torturous death.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as if the physical pain would distract him from the ache in his chest. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

The weight of everything pressed on him—the guilt, the anger, the regret. He had promised her, promised her, that he would take care of her, that he wouldn’t let her go. But in the end, he had failed. He hadn’t been enough to save her. And now, she was gone, and all he had left were the memories. The hollow echoes of her voice, her laughter, her touch.

“I wasn’t enough for you,” he whispered, a raw, broken sob escaping him. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, his wings folding around him like an armor of despair. “I couldn’t save you. And now… now I have nothing.”

He curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees, his head pressed against them as the tears came in waves. His body trembled with the force of it. Every sob was like a shard of glass digging deeper into his heart, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The world had moved on. The stars had continued to shine. The wind had continued to blow. But for Azriel, it had all stopped. Because she was gone, and no matter how many times he whispered her name into the darkness, no matter how many times he begged for her to come back, he knew the truth.

She was gone. And he was broken beyond repair.

Time would pass, the seasons would change, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered without her.

And as the silence closed in around him, Azriel made a vow to the shadows, to the darkness that now felt like home.

He would never forgive himself. He would never forget the way she had died in his arms, the way he couldn’t save her. And as the cold night wrapped itself around him, he whispered through clenched teeth, “I’ll make the world pay. I’ll make everything pay for taking you from me.”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they wouldn’t bring her back.

And he would have to live with that.

Taglist: @anarchiii @er1023 @siriuslystyle1989 @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @starlightazriel

[fearhims3lf]

TIMING: Last Week

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Xóchitl and Mateo meet up for coffee and talk. Things go better than they both expected.

WARNINGS: None

There was so much chatter around the room. Everyone discussing one thing or another in a crowded coffee shop that Mateo wished he could leave. Were it not for Xóchitl, he would’ve already left, but that was a double edged sword. Because he wouldn’t be as tense as he was if it weren’t for her too. There was a conversation to be had, and it was going to determine whether or not they would have a chance at being together or if he needed to forget about that possibility completely. He was hoping for the former, but prepared himself for the latter. 

 Fuck.

Mateo stirred his iced coffee and scrubbed at his face, avoiding the sun that was peering just through the blinds. Stupid crowded coffee shop meant all the good seats were taken, and now he had to try to not sparkle like a damn Twilight vampire while holding a conversation he’d been dreading all week. He sighed, taking a tired sip of his coffee when he saw Xóchitl walk through the door. His chest felt like it might leap, but he reeled himself in. He couldn’t get his hopes too high.

“Hi.” The mare swallowed, “Nice to, uh, see you.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Mateo gestured to the seat across from him and adjusted his posture as best he could. “Thanks for…yeah.” He awkwardly tensed his hands together, avoiding Xóchitl’s eyes. Thanks for coming. I know it’s weird. You know? Uh, yeah. You know.”

This might have been (and probably was) a huge mistake. But she needed to see Mateo in person, and it couldn’t very well be at either of their houses for any number of reasons. So a coffee shop worked. It would be crowded, probably, which meant that if her ex-boyfriend was actually evil, he wouldn’t be able to try anything here. It also meant she couldn’t just throw herself at him. Which was fair, and was what they’d both agreed upon, even though part of her had half a mind to just say ‘screw it’ and tell him she only wanted benefits.

He didn’t want that, though, and frankly, Xóchitl wasn’t sure that she did, either. It felt wrong. Not the same sort of wrong that going home with strangers felt like now, but still wrong. So this was better, and Mateo was apparently the more logical of the two of them. She wasn’t about to admit that to his face, though. Not yet. Maybe sometime soon, if things worked out. She could think of a few ways that would make him feel extra pleased at her admission. 

For now, though, she pushed open the door of the coffee shop and practically made eye contact with him right away. She made her way over to him and sat down. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course. Thanks for meeting up with me.” It was so many levels of beyond weird at this point, but highlighting that wasn’t about to do either of them any good. “I need to go get a mocha. Do you - uh – want anything else, while I’m up there?”

Mateo shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearing his throat. It felt surreal to see Xóchitl in person after so long. The last time he saw her, she was forcing him and Wyatt to leave her apartment, anger dripping from her voice. 

He acted brashly, disappearing in an instant and not caring how that ability would affect her. It was wrong on so many levels, but Mateo had always had a hard time controlling how he reacted when he was upset. It was something he was working on. 

“Uh,” Mateo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shaking his head. “Nah, I'm good. Just get your mocha. Still nursing my drink.” He did his best to feign a smile, already feeling the sweat begin to bead in his palms. “I'll be here.” Mateo swallowed, adjusting his battlevest with a dry chuckle. “Just, you know, sittin’.” 

“Okay, works for me.” He wasn’t supposed to be someone who she felt awkward around, and yet right now, other than Wyatt, she couldn’t think of anybody else she’d feel more awkward around than him. Which put yet another twisted sort of feeling in her gut, but she did her best to ignore it and push forward, ordering her mocha (with an extra shot of espresso) and fiddling with her fingers while she waited for the drink. 

It felt like far longer than it must have actually been until she got her drink and then there was the whole realization that this all meant that now she had to go back to the table. Xóchitl steeled herself, running a hand through her hair to make sure it wasn’t out of place. 

“Hey.” She sat down, back at the table. “Again.” She looked down at her drink, at the way her nails tapped lightly against the cup. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

Xóchitl walked away, and out of habit (horrible, horrible habit), Mateo let his eyes wander. But only for a moment. Get it together. He gritted his teeth and scrubbed at his face for a little too long. The world was obscured by a fuzziness, and by the time it was clear again, he could see a woman staring at him, brow raised. “What the fuck are you looking at?” He hissed with a roll of his eyes and a cross of his arms. 

Thankfully, Xóchitl returned before the conversation could escalate, and the mare settled back into the objective. “Hi,” He swallowed, feeling as if needles threatened to sink further in. “Uh…” Leaning back in his chair, Mateo kept his eyes trained at nothing at all. He couldn't look Xóchitl in the eye or focus on anything but her. So much so that he forgot why he was sitting a certain way to begin with. To avoid the sunlight. Which was dangerous at that time of the day. The lighting was too perfect. 

“Um…uh…yeah. I guess, yeah. Ladies first, right?”

He was being courteous and charming and though she was grateful for that, there was another part of Xóchitl that really (really) wished he’d be greedy and selfish and rude or something like that. Something to justify her not liking him, to justify wanting to walk out of the shop and just not talk to him. Except that what she actually wanted was the complete opposite of all of that. She wasn’t totally chill with everything that she had learned and the whole idea of her boyfriends not being human was more than a little weird, but she still wanted to hear Mateo out. Wyatt too, eventually, probably, but it was better to start with one before moving on to the other.

“I – uh, okay.” Part of her had wanted him to start, because she felt so intensely at a loss for words, but she owed him this, at least. “This – this is weird.” She shot a glare at some lady who was staring at Mateo, and maybe Xóchitl did feel a bit jealous, which was weird, and also defensive, which was less weird but still not something she could expend energy on right now. “I think we’re both thinking that.” Another sip of her mocha, which ended up being far more like a gulp, so that she had time to think and form up her thoughts.

She could feel her heart rate increase, beating almost as fast as it did when she had her anxiety attacks. She couldn’t afford to have one of those right now. She needed to be calm and focused and not distracted by Mateo’s battle vest and the curve of his jawline.

“I… am sorry.” It seemed like the best thing to start with. “I guess I don’t do well with all sorts of surprises…” or being overwhelmed, but she wasn’t going to talk about that right now. “But I’m still sorry. It was a shit move to act the way I did. I guess I just – still don’t get how you’re, well, you?”

Listening intently, Mateo kept avoiding Xóchitl's eyes, nodding along a bit dispassionately. He felt like their conversation was just going to experience a two part breakup. Which was far worse and far more lame. 

Mateo sighed quietly to himself, shifting in his seat again and still not noticing the high noon sun shining through the broken slats in the blinds. It shone across his cheek from one opening, and over his knuckles from the other. He sparkled ever so slightly, and it was easy to miss, but Mateo couldn't care even if he noticed. 

“I…” The mare opened and closed his mouth several times, quiet croaks slipping out instead of words. It was pathetic. “Wait. No.” Mateo shook his head, still avoiding Xóchitl's eyes. “You shouldn't be apologizing here. You were scared, and you're allowed to react any way you need.” He brushed his thumbs over his mug, the contents long since growing cold. “It was going to be a surprise any way we did it, but it felt wrong to hide anything from you ‘cause you're not supposed to, right?” 

Scrubbing his face, Mateo glanced over at Xóchitl, but he quickly cleared his throat and looked away. “It's just all new. I…I don't get this kinda shit. My dad…everyone. Maybe I'm just…” Truly doomed to die alone. “Not good at this.” Not meant to be loved if he's too terrifying to be useful. 

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t apologize, but maybe I also should’ve been a bit less of a jerk.” Of course, it was all about being able to look back with the knowledge she had now, but she wanted to say sorry. There was a part of Xóchitl that also wanted to get down on the floor and beg Mateo to date her again, but she wasn’t that desperate. At least not yet. Though, of course, there were a few other reasons to get on her knees for Mateo, but none of those were things she could do in a café, and they’d also talked about not hooking up. “I guess – about the surprise, yeah. But I – yes.” She shook her head, refocusing herself. “You’re not supposed to hide stuff when you’re dating somebody. When you love…” she cut herself off again by taking another gulp of her drink.

“Your dad and everyone, what?” Carefully, she laid her hand out on the table, open in case he wanted to take it. Not that he should want to, because she’d hurt him, but just in case. “I’m shit at dating. Never really did it before you – and Wyatt – didn’t want to get too close to people.” She cast a quick glance around the café to make sure that nobody else was listening in.

“Are you sure you don’t want to even spilt like, some sort of overly sweet something?” She was deflecting, she knew that, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. She really was shit at this.

Xóchitl spoke of love, and for a moment, before she stopped herself, Mateo was hopeful that that love had something to do with him. His stomach fell into a pit when he realized it wasn't. He wasn't useful enough for that at the moment, he supposed. She was just being nice because that was who she was. 

Kindness lay in her heart the same way violence did in Mateo's. It made them who they were. And violence didn't mix well with kindness. Ever. So despite how fucking badly Mateo wanted to take Xóchitl's hand, he refrained  He clenched his hand into a tight fist and pressed it firmly into his thigh to hold it in place. 

“I'm not good at this either.” He shrugged, a bit defeated. “But like…fuck. You're not wrong for how you reacted, but it hurt. The disappointment and disgust…it-it…” Taking a breath, Mateo attempted to keep his voice from shaking, to no avail. “I don't think there's ever been a time where honesty led to acceptance. Not without…” He swallowed, “Me losing something in the process. Family. Respect. Even moving here. School…I…” It was hard to explain. “Just forget it. I'm just sorry.”

He didn’t take her hand and she couldn’t blame him. No matter how much she wanted to hold it, to find comfort in how cold he was. Which was because he was technically dead. Which led her thoughts down a whole other pathway that she quickly turned away from. She needed to stay present, stay here and with Mateo and not down some weird road that she didn’t want to think about right now. Except how was he dead-but-here and Mackenzie never got that chance? She couldn’t remember if any of that had been explained to her, but even if it had, she’d forgotten. Being around Mateo also made it easy to forget things, because his jawline and hands and his everything were really distracting. Unfairly so.

“I shouldn’t have been disgusted.” Except she had been. And afraid. But she’d reacted rashly, which was a problem she’d had. Too much all at once, or nothing. Some therapist had said it was residual trauma from the day Mackenzie had died, or something, but Xóchitl didn’t like to think about it too much.

“That – I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand away for a moment, before flicking her fingers against each other and putting it back down. Maybe this time he’d touch her again.

“But – were – even before you got like this?” Xóchitl made a face. “I – well, I tried – I didn’t always fit in.” Some of that – a good portion of that – had to do with the fact that she’d tried to push people away, but now wasn’t time to talk about that.

“You don’t have to be sorry. But, uh, the treat? There was some sort of cinnamon roll thing back there that looked incredible.”

Mateo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and he raked his hands over his thighs several times before he found his composure again. Sighing heavily, he let his gaze wander around the coffee shop, accidentally making eye contact with the woman who had been staring at him when he'd first arrived. Mateo sneered, scrubbing at his face before looking back at Xóchitl. 

His irritation immediately faded, and he sighed with a little more lightness in his chest. Maybe the talk the two of them were having didn't have to be bad. Maybe Xóchitl's initial reaction didn't have to stick  Maybe it didn't mean she couldn't come to accept Mateo. Maybe, for once, he could be accepted by someone who didn't understand, but understanding didn't matter as much because love was above all else. He hoped that was the case. Desperately. Eating a sweet treat together could be a good start. 

“Um,” Mateo rolled his lips over his teeth and smiled wanly. “You know what? Yeah.” He nodded softly, placing his hand over Xóchitl's. She was warm. “That sounds pretty good. We can split it. I got all day.” Even if he didn't, Mateo always liked to make time for Xóchitl. 

She’d tell herself over and over again that this was the right choice. That she was being mature on several different levels with regard to how she was handling all of this. She was trying to understand that things she’d previously thought were fake were, in fact, very much real, and she hadn’t yet made out with her ex-but-maybe-not-ex. The second one absolutely deserved a gold star or something.

He agreed to share something and Xóchitl would have practically leapt up once he’d said that, except his hand was on hers now and she wanted to not move one bit. But he’d agreed and she wanted to take that win, and there was something intimate about sharing food and she’d take that a thousand times over. So she popped up, glided over to the counter, ordered the cinnamon bun-roll-thing, grabbed it, and sat back down across from Mateo, her hand instinctively reaching out to take Mateo’s hand again.

“God, this is good.” Xóchitl took a bite of the dessert. “Really incredible.” She put her fork down. “We can share this, if you want. I did get two though. You know, cleanliness and all that.” She glanced around the café, spotting some lady who wouldn’t stop staring at them. Xóchitl made a face at her before turning back to Mateo. “What do you think?”

Everything melted away then. Xóchitl walked off, got their treats, and sat back down. She settled into her seat happily, as if having Mateo across from her mattered. He took her hand gratefully, not questioning whether or not it would be the last time, and took a few giddy bites with a big smile. 

“Pretty amazing.” Though there was a softness to his voice that was much too intimate to be talking about a dessert. “Think we can probably share both and smash them.” Mateo chuckled warmly, feeling a lot more at ease now that they were both reaching a sense of normalcy.  

“You wanna take a walk after this? It feels nice out.” Squeezing Xóchitl's hand once, Mateo allowed himself to feel a little bit of hope. For once, it didn't feel like a weakness. 

“Works for me.” Damnit, he was charming his way back into her heart – though Xóchitl was uncertain if he’d ever actually left. Which also meant that Wyatt… she cut herself off from that particular train of thought for the moment. There was only so much that she could handle at once. For now, the focus was on Mateo. 

Stupid, incredibly attractive, beautiful Mateo. Who had become one of her people, one of those most important to her in the whole world. Who she’d been terrified of losing and yet who she’d pushed away herself. Which was a major problem, but also something that probably said something about who she was.

“Sharing both is pretty…” intimate. “Great. Sensible, you know?” Xóchitl was well aware she was making something of a big fool of herself. “I’d like a walk.” She squeezed his hand back. Which felt like instinct in the best of ways. “I’m free all afternoon.”

[glockg1rl]

100

< death bed >

last cup of coffee

don't stay awake for too long

end of beginning

[flamefenrir2003]

Do y’all reckon there are moments when the anxient powers are being little shits on purpose and just keeping singing/blaring horns/howling into Cale’s head every time he’s in an important meeting?

Wait, the APs can’t access his memories, right? So they didn’t know about KRS until the Sealed God Test? Or maybe the convo between Cale and Choi Han.

So just IMAGINE these guys, for shits and giggles, suddenly start singing Gangnam Style while Cale is fighting the White Star.

Suddenly begins scrambling like a madwoman: WHAT SONGS WOULD CHOI HAN KNOW?!

[theabigailthorn]

spent ages preparing to audition for a role I really really wanted and it's looking like (still unconfirmed) they might not even be holding auditions at all but have just given it to someone directly

which, meh, that sucks but that's the industry!

I'm just like now what? I spent a lot of my free time the last few months prepping and I genuinely don't know what to do with myself now!

[dollya-robinprotector]

Sleeping with your chosen partner fulfills an instinctual desire. I - Stress I - Trauma I +Arousal

You sleep soundly.

Robin cuddles you in his sleep.

You snuggle under the covers with Robin. You can feel the heat from his naked body warming the bed.

[murderandcoffee]

This whole "simp martin" martin thing has got me thinking

Like

Jon: sex isnt on the table for me

Martin (who still cant even believe he got THIS far): thats not gonna be a problem for me

jon: yeah, don't expect sex me from, I rarely--if ever--desire it

martin, ecstatic at what all that leaves on the table: THAT'S WHERE YOU DRAW THE LINE???

jon, a little horrified: I have never seen anyone so excited to learn that sex is out of the equation

martin: I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME FOR A SOLID YEAR

jon: ...

martin: THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

You're allowed to call it "grief."

If I can get personal on y'all for a second... A therapist once told me that you're allowed to grieve for a place. (We moved a lot when I was a kid. It wasn't great.)

Tumblr is a place, and place is important. It's friends. It's shelter. It's comfort and routine, continuity between who you were and will be. And to leave a place is to suffer a loss, not like losing a person but still painful. Not the end of the world, but the end of a world that helped shape who you are.

You'll make new friends. Your new room will be better. That can be true, while not changing that you will lose touch with many of the people you love right now, you will lose the shelter you spent so long crafting.

Tumblr's terminal diagnosis has been a long time coming. And I give it solidly 50-50 odds on still being around a year from now. The Five Stages model may not replicate, but here's something that does: anticipatory grief. The grief of knowing that a loss is coming, a sad and strange gift that gives you time to get things in order and say all that you want to say with your goodbye.

So: thank you, everyone, for the last decade of silliness and righteousness, wisdom and stupidity. I'm hoping for another 10 years on this hellsite, but I'm also letting myself grieve.

[lazyjellyfish300]

miguel, kusakabe, shiu, & kento are all the type to make you cum like twice before they're even undressed by the way

[typicalopposite]

Tommy surprises Buck with a date in the sky…

…except it’s a hot air balloon date (because of course Tommy knows how to fly one) and now old hurt feelings are resurfacing no matter how hard Buck is trying to push them away…

And Tommy picks up on how weird Bucks suddenly being because— of course he does… and when he asks Buck tries to deny it and avoid it and talk about literally anything else but Tommy presses on until Buck finally caves and tells him about Abby and how the failed hot air balloon date is really where things started going down hill.

And sure, Tommy seems a little disappointed that the date wasn’t as romantic as he’d wanted it to be but he understands— because of course Tommy understands. He even offers to cut the flight short if it’s making Buck uncomfortable and somewhere in the middle of Tommy not judging Buck for reminiscing on a past relationship and Tommy offering to change the plans he made for this date to accommodate Bucks feelings it’s like the last piece of this puzzle that is Evan Buckley finally slots into place; it’s like he has come full circle; like all the painful memories of Abby — and Taylor and Ali and Natalia — have just paved the way for him to be the person he is now. The person he wants to be for Tommy.

“Actually can we— can we stay up a little longer,” he says softly, stepping closer so the Tommy can wrap his free arm around Buck’s waist.

“Of course,” Tommy says, pressing a kiss into Bucks temple, and the hot air balloon drifts through the sky as Buck leans in for an actual kiss, whispering three words against Tommy’s lips as he pulls back. Tommy smiles and Buck holds his breath. Because this is him living up to his reputation of leaping off the cliff without the gear needed to catch him and prevent him from crashing at the bottom.

Except— Except he’s firmly wrapped in Tommy’s embrace, and there is no falling, there is not crashing. He is safe.

Tommy says it back. And maybe everyone will say it’s way too soon to feel this way… but everyone’s not here to hear them. The only thing around them is the sky… and it won’t tell a soul.

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

This YEAR Dib??

[coldjustness]

Always remember that Neve Gallus thinks that mages who use magic to do trivial casual tasks (opening doors, lighting candles, torches, fireplaces, etc) are flashy and like to show off. She'd rather light her candles by hand, and I half blame this on her growing up in a non-magic household and the other half is her humble mindset.

However, she makes an exception for ruined fashion and cold coffee.

[fantomevoleur]

((I love when my protag has that face that clearly says 'I've leveled up to my strongest potential and am about to fuck your shit up', like that is such good flavor, that is a delectable meal right there.))

[kingkatsuki]

Imagine those mornings where you start work at the same time as Bakugou so you get to commute into the city together🥺

[moeblob]

I'm sorry for the OC brain rot on main....

(the lines are from a post about "tag yourself: awkward/unflirty Sims edition" and honestly? all my OCs are awkward/unflirty so ... yeah...)

[meimeimeirin]

it's only 11am orz