#every time my mother is like 'everything works out it always does' it enrages me

[amandragora]

my least favorite body thing is when my body just decides to be cold like........why are you doing this i dont want to have to grab a comforter about it (and then wake up extremely sweaty)

also yay food buying day but sad because I imagine we're getting close to homelessness lmao. Even if we aren't evicted, the landlady may just....not extend the lease in october. I imagine we'll get a message soon enough now that it's the 1st.

I don't know what to do about it!

[heyyypuddin]

Withering Petal (Armando x OC) Bad Boys Chapter 8

⚠️Trigger Warning ⚠️

This chapter does contain mentions of violence and strong language as well as horrendous crimes. Please heed if you’re sensitive to mentions of those.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8 

The next few days fly by like a breeze, nothing exciting happening. Amora’s been working on another big art project for a different client, so she’s been keeping to her office, and Armando has been basically living in her home gym. 

Every time she goes to see what the fugitive is up to, she finds him in there working away. Sometimes she goes sneaking peeks whenever he’s shirtless or making rather loud grunts, thinking she was being sneaky, but unbeknownst to her, he sees her every time. 

The week flew into the next, and Amora was in the room with Armando checking over his wounds. 

““You’re healing pretty well, which is great to see they were looking real nasty when you first came,” she inspected his shoulder, moving over to his side before backing up to change out the bandages. 

He hummed in response, comfortable in the silence they usually have while being in each other's presence. He fixed his position as she started putting on the bandages, scanning over her. He noticed she changed her nails to a light pink with clear textured designs, her toes matching the color. 

‘How cute’ he thought; he always found it so cute how she kept up with herself. It reminded him of his mother; she never liked going anywhere underdressed; she even found it disrespectful when women would come near her not dressed well.

He closed his eyes, feeling an ache from the thought of his mother. It made him want to run away. Even with everything she's done, he missed her. She was the only physical parental figure he had growing up, and even then, he barely got to see her. Another ache hit him, and he looked for a way to avoid the uprooting emotions. 

“Why is Victor looking for you? You mentioned it a couple times but never explained it.” came the question. It’s been bothering him for a while, but he never spoke on it, and it helped take the spotlight of his memories stabbing at him.

Amora's hands stilled on the second wound she was working on and she let out a sigh. Finishing what she was doing, she sat next to him. Looking at him with sad eyes, part of him felt bad for brining that look to her face, but he knew he wanted answers. 

“After my parents' murder, he took me with his cartel. "He-he” she stuttered, taking a few shaky breaths before continuing. 

“I was under his control for 12 years before escaping 4 years ago.”

“mierda” 

“Yeah, tough, right?” she breathed out in an empty chuckle. 

”Obviously people know that he’s a drug lord and was a mercenary, but most people don’t know that he was also involved in human trafficking.” 

This really caught Armando’s attention, his eyes enraged at the assumptions going through his head.

“Are you saying that you were….?” he trailed off, not really wanting to say the words. He may have killed people and dealt drugs, but he never put women in harm's way. In fact, in the Aretas Cartel, all the men respected the women highly, especially when Isabel Aretas was the leader; they had no choice, and if they thought differently... well, his mother would show them why they called her “La Bruja.”

Amora shook her head quickly

“So... he did it differently. Victor Ortiz is a very possessive man; he would make deals with these men and would trade the women, but before the other party could get too far, he would have them killed and bring the girls back. He always made it seem like it wasn’t from his group so that he could keep getting deals.” 

She took a deep breath in, glancing at Armando, seeing him fully locked in. She breathed out, feeling her hands begin to shake, clasping them tighter. Seeing her shake, Armando reached out, covering her hands with his.

""Listen, if you don’t want to continue, you don’t have o." She shook her head in reassurance. 

“Thank you, I’m okay; it’s just—I'm okay. Uhm, so, for me, I was favored by Victor ever since I was little. I’m not too sure why, but wherever he went, he made sure I was there by his side. He traded me a few times but mainly only did them as punishment; he would do it with the vilest men. Thankfully, before they could really touch me and do horrendous things, he would ‘‘Save me,” she scoffed at the thought.

“I won’t lie, I had it better than most women there. I tried to use my advantage by helping women escape, but often we were caught, and he would either trade them or kill the women in front of me. Sometimes he would." Her voice hitched, taking a higher pitch, trying to get the words out but was choking up. 

“S-sometimes he would--I'm sorry.” 

“No, its okay." She felt Armando’s hands caressing her, trying to bring comfort, but she knew she didn’t deserve it, not from all the horrendous things she did. 

Taking a deep breath, she rushed the words out.

“Sometimes he would even force me to pull the trigger or choose who would die,”

she choked out, her eyes turning red from the tears streaming out of her eyes, remembering times when victors' hands were gripping hers painfully around the gun, her trying to struggle out of his grip aiming at different women, some she got close to, but it was futile.

“Eventually I gave up on trying to help, and I only focused on myself. I tried three times, and after the fourth time, I finally escaped and found myself in Miami City. Sometimes I felt like he allowed me to escape; it felt almost easy, and I was right.”

She softly pulled her hands away from Armando, wiping the tears away from her face.

“After being away from him for a year, I tried to live a normal life; I felt it was long enough, and I was finally free. I met this guy, and he was so sweet, seeming so protective and genuine. We dated for about a year and a half, but it turns out he was working with Victor. He promised him two million in return for me,” she spitted out, feeling herself become angry over the hurt and betrayal on the day she found out. 

~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~

Amora came bouncing in the apartment with a happy smile on her face after coming back from a self-care day of getting a message, her hair and nails done. She couldn't wait to show Jay her new hairstyle. She decided for the first time to get knotless braids in a honey blonde color. 

“Baaaaaaabe, I’m hoooome." She called out, putting her purse on the couch, taking off her sandals, and walking through the apartment going to the bedroom. 

She found the man she was looking for, lying on the bed in nothing but black basketball shorts, her eyes scanning over his tall, dark brown body, and up to his face, his sharp jaw clenched shut, one hand twisting his curls and the other holding up his phone, texting, looking too serious. 

She got an idea in her mind and quickly jumped on the bed, crawling over his legs, straggling him, and snatched his phone, putting it up above his head, giving a teasing smile. 

“Notice anythi—.”

A yelp ripped from her throat at being pushed roughly off his lap and onto the floor, immediately snatching the phone back out of her hand.

“What the fuck you think you doing, Amora?” she cowered into the floor out of shock and fear at his outburst. She tried to play it off by laughing even though she was petrified by that reaction. He's never had a reaction like that with her, ever.

"Geez, what got you so serious? I was only trying to show you my hair,” she told him, getting off of the floor and going to the far opposite edge of the bed, trying to create as much distance from the raging man as possible. 

She watched him tower over her, glaring with seething black eyes, his pierced nose gleaming from his flaring nostrils. She felt as if she was in a ring with a raging bull charging right at her wanting blood. 

“Don't do that shit again,” he threatened harshly before storming out of the room, slamming the door. She flinched at the sound and blinked at the door, eyes wide, breathing quickly, trying to hold back the tears pricking at her eyes. 

Her breathing got quicker and choppier as she started hyperventilating at that familiar, dreadful feeling from when she was trapped. She stayed at the same spot, not following him, afraid of what might happen if she did. 

A couple of days past, Amora kept her distance from him, thinking he was going to apologize for his behavior, but he never did.

Eventually she rolled it off, thinking maybe he was just having a really bad day and she made it worse; ‘it was childish of me’, she thought, and decided to apologize to him for her actions, thinking it was going to get better. 

Except it didn't; in the blink of an eye, he changed. He was getting ruder, to her being more evasive. Yelling and cussing at her, sometimes she thought he was even going to hit her.

“Maybe he found someone else,” she thought, and the thought of that crushed her. ”Did I do something wrong? How could I fix it?” Some of the thoughts were going through her, but she continued on pretending she wasn’t going in pain. 

It wasn’t until one night that he fell asleep while they were watching a movie that she got a chance to see what was going on. 

He left his phone unlocked. 

Looking quickly at the phone and back to Jay, she whispered his name, seeing if he would wake up. 

“Jay, hey Jay." She even poked him, but he didn’t stir. So, she lightly reached out, picking up his phone, trying to be as still as possible, and when it reached her, she looked at him and saw he was still sleeping. 

She gave a sigh of relief and went to open up his messages, feeling that relief being ripped and replaced with a fear so tight it was like time froze. 

Victor Ortiz

Her shaking thumb hovered over the name before tapping on it to show the recent messages. 

Sunday around 8 p.m., you'll have her—Jay. 

Will you have my money? - Jay 

Are you questioning me? - Victor

No sir- Jay

Everything felt slow, her vision going blurry. She was going to throw up. She dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom, throwing up everything she ate that day. After a last hurl, she slid back on the wall, shaking. Everything felt cold but hot. Feeling pain in her throat, making it harder for her to breathe, she ended up lying on the floor, curling into a fetal position, when her breath finally rushed out of her, but streams of tears took its place. 

She sat there for maybe 4 hours before getting up, legs shaking but a determined look on her face with a plan of getting out before she came face with that devil. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flash back end~~~~~~~~~

Coming back out of her memories, Amora felt herself start to shatter, one crack at a time, until it all came bursting out like a dam.

She felt herself getting picked up and freaked out.

“It’s okay, Amor. I got you. I’m not going to do anything.”

When Armando's warm voice was brushing over her ear, she felt herself get placed in a warm lap, feeling strong arms wrap around her, his head nuzzling in the crook of her neck. 

She allowed herself to remain still in comfort, unsure of what to do, but the more he rubbed her back, the more she relaxed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut and practically slapping the tears off her face, she sucked her teeth, wanting to control herself so that she could finish her story. For the first time she could freely speak on it to someone. 

“I was so dumb and naive, I ignored every single sign there was, thinking the best of him in hopes of living that fairytale life... but I should've known better. That doesn't happen for someone like me,” she whispered out, hardly hearing her own voice zoning out again until she felt Armando's head shake bringing her back.

"Uhm, so that night I set up a plan and I drugged his drink.” Feeling Armando look at her in surprise, she quickly brought up her hands, shaking them, denying any accusations he could've been thinking.

”I only drugged it enough for him to fall into a deep sleep; I didn't kill him or anything!“ 

“Maybe you should've." He couldn't help quip, wiping away some of the tears falling down her round cheeks, and went back to rubbing her back.

A quick giggle slipped out of her lips at that and she whispered a quick thank you for his attempt at lightening the mood before continuing.

“I didn’t know where to go, so I just drove as far as I could. I found this abandoned house and found out who owned it, asking them if it was for sale. It was an old couple, and they just gave it to me. I took that as a good sign and blessing and immediately started to try to make money to make it livable, and this is living where I've been living for the past three years.”

“Where you've been hiding,” he corrected. She looked at him, slowly nodding her head.

“I try not to go out often, but I do when it’s necessary or when I need a little bit of normalcy. But when I do, I go disguised as Desirae and not Amora. It’s a small town, so I take extra measures, especially when it's for my fighting classes that I take every three months.”

He looked at her deeply, going over the events he had with her. Connecting dots in his head It explains a lot about her paranoia, especially when they first met, all the concealed weapons she had around, the fighting skills she practices, her alarm system, even her dog. She's just surviving, waiting for something to happen to her. That's the saddest thing he could think—such a waste for a woman like her to be hiding away from the world. Letting her become a shell, not fighting back, only letting fear whisk her away in life 

"Yep, so that's the story of Amora Johnson,” she muttered sarcastically. She knew it was very pathetic, seeing the look on the man's face. He was a man who was none of what she was. 

On days they both had nothing to do, she listened to the stories he told her of his past; he was a brave man, relentless, and didn't let anything get in his way when he was doing something. She admired him; she thought it was attractive, but she envied him, wishing she could be like that.

“Why didn't you do anything when you escaped, like go to the cops and report him?”” he asked her, curious of why she didn't take more action, why she just chose... to run and not fight back?

“I did... I went to the police station and saw familiar faces that worked at the station that would also be at the cartel, so I left before anyone noticed me not wanting to get caught, and I told Jay—my ex—but he lied obviously about helping me, so yeah. I didn't have friends either, one of the things that I allowed Jay to limit me from; he told me it wouldn't be safe that I couldn't trust anyone,” an empty, cold chuckle fell out of her lips.

“I was a damn fool,” she hissed, looking out eyes unfocused and glazed over.

It was silent between them again, Amora lost in her thoughts and Armando not having anything to say. For a bit, she sat in his lap with him still caressing her back until she snapped out of her daze and slowly got out of his lap.

Very quickly she missed the warmth and comfort of him, but knew she needed to head to her empty bed where nothing but nightmares waited for her, but she didn’t want to be weak in front of him anymore.

“Thank you... for consoling me,” she expressed weakly to him, head looking down, her hair covering her face. 

“Amora...” he spoke, but his words got caught; he didn't know what he wanted to say or if he meant anything, but he did feel for her; he knew that. 

“Yes ?’ She looked at him hopeful but scared of his reaction; it was the first time he called her by her real name, and she was fearful of whatever was going to come out of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” he spoke. A quizzical look crossed her face at the random gratitude. He gave a low chuckle at the adorable expression.

“Thank you for allowing me into your space and for trusting me with your story. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but you still gave me a chance and have gone out of your way for me. I just wanted to make sure you knew I appreciated it." His smooth voice was flying to Amora's ears like music. 

Amora's voice hitched at the appreciation. Emotions bursting inside of her but kept her self-calm.

“Just...don't make me regret it... or I'll have to kick your ass,” she tried joking with him, but she meant her word on not wanting to regret anything. She doesn't think she can handle another betrayal. 

“You won't,” came the serious answer. Their eyes were holding each other until Amora looked away, hiding the small smile on her face. 

“Good night,” she whispered to him before slowly walking out the door, giving him one small glance over her shoulder and shooting him a smile before she softly closed the door. 

His eyes followed every moment of her, until she was gone. He huffed out a deep breath, plopping back on the bed, reflecting back on the woman and all he learned tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Hey puddin! So this chapter went a bit darker, and it will probably be the last time that it does, so expect the next chapter to have fluff.

Also I see other people create links to their previous chapters to be easier to navigate, would you appreciate if I do the same, I’m new ish to Tumblr but I can figure out if it helps.

Anyways I hope you enjoyed it! 💕💕

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓘𝓷 𝓜𝔂  𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐰𝐚, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ᴀʟʙɪɴᴏ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ɴᴀ'ᴠɪ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴅ- ᴡᴇ ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ

Tw: under age mating? angst, upset Neytiri, recrimination against reader, over all fluff

Author’s note: A part two had been asked, so here you go :) Sorry if it feels short

P.s. Next I’ll be working on a part two of Tears and Book pages. Sorry for the long wait

Masterlist

That same night Neteyam took you to the tree of souls, you put on a zip up jacket and let your mother know that you’d be back, in which she had told you to stay safe. You had heard of the Tree of souls, you wanted to visit it for some time, but you always felt as if you should never step foot in sacred na’vi grounds. When you both got there it was empty, thank Eywa. 

You saw how the tree glowed just like any other plants in the forest. You were looking at the tree in awe, seeing some woodsprite dancing around the tree. It looked beautiful, as you walked through the tree, you had stick out your arms, feeling the tassels of the tree softly slipping across your arms. “I’ve never seen such thing, I always wished to come here” you said as Neteyam had been smiling at you, seeing that woodsprite had approached you, landing on your hand that you had stretched out, it slightly tickled your palm.

Neteyam could only just stare at you, seeing you happy made him happy, he just knew he was doing the right thing. He then took your hands into his once the woodsprite had flown away. He guided you down, both of you getting on your knees, facing each other. “Before anything, are you sure about it?” Neteyam asked with worry on his face, but cupped his face then leaned in, giving him a little peck on the cheek. “Of course I am sure, I want to be your mate” you said making him smile.

“It is sealed, we are now mates.” Neteyam mentioned, you the threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly in which he also hugged you back. You felt happier than ever, you also felt Neteyam’s happiness as well. You then looked up at him, seeing him smile back at you. “I love you Neteyam” you said hugging him tighter, Neteyam chuckled, holding you close to him. “And I love you y/n” he said as he continued to hold you.

Once Neteyam walked you back home, he headed back to his, he already knew he was going to get into trouble for coming later. When he arrived, he saw Jake and Neytiri outside, they had a disapproving look on their faces, but his mother’s face, it was one of anger. “Where were you?!” Jake ask his son, who was now in front of him. “I was with y/n, sir” he said looking up at his father, then Neytiri stepped in.“What were you doing with that fake?” she asked as Neteyam looked at his mother, she knew, of course she knew. There was no trying to hide it, so he just confessed. “Y/n and I are mates, we have mated before Eywa, it is done” he said, making Neytiri’s face turn to one of fury.

“Mate?! You have mated with a fake!? A dreamwalker!?” She screamed in his face. “She is not a fake! She is a na’vi, just like Kiri!” Neteyam yelled back, Neytiri looked at him, still enraged. “Why did it have to be her?! Why her!? She is not one of the people!” she said as Jake tried to calm his mate but she hissed at him. “She isn’t because you had made her feel like she doesn’t belong here when she does! Every time she had tried to please you, you looked at her as if she was nothing, she has tried to become one of the people but you never saw her as one!” Neteyam protested, feeling his eyes fill up in tears. “In my eyes, she’s is everything to me, she is my everything, no matter if she’s not one of the people”

Neytiri looked at her son in the eyes. “She is different, she is not worth being a Tsahik by your side, she is weak” she said, her son only looked at her, letting his tears fall from his eyes. “She is not weak, she will be the best Tsahik the whole clan as ever known, she is now my mate, she will forever be my mate until death do us part” he said as Neytiri just groaned and walked back in the tent. Leaving Jake and Neteyam by themselves.

“Son, I-” before Jake could finish Neteyam spoke “I know I shouldn’t have talked to her in that way, but you gave me the right to choose my mate, and I choose Y/n” he said as Jake only looked at his son. He knew better than anyone how it must bee like to be seeing as different, a demon. “I know, I support your decisions, just give your mother time. You also have to talk to y/n’s mom as well.” He said as Neteyam only nodded and muttered a yes sir. They both went inside the tent.

The next morning, Neteyam had come early to the lab and talk to your mother. When she found out about you and Neteyam, she was surprised, since you were both still young to mate, you did so anyway. She did warn you on planning in having a not family any time soon, at least your mother had been okay with you two being mates. Neteyam had told you about his mother’s reaction, this was what you were afraid of, Neytiri not approving of your relationship with her son. When his siblings had found out, they had let out a huge sigh of relief, it turns out that they had been waiting for years that you and Neteyam finally confess to one another

Neteyam had mentioned that you had to start your Tsahik training, since he one day will be the Olo'eyktan and you will be by his side. “What!? Tsahik?! But, I’m not one of the people” you said shocked, sitting in your bed, while Neteyam was sitting on the floor in front of you. “That is okay, you technically are, you have bonded with a banshee, you just need to learn other things such as hunt” he said, while he played with your hand.

“Neteyam, you already know what happened last time, I can’t do things others can’t” you said, remembering everything that Neytiri has said to you, about you not being capable of doing things the other na’vi did. “That is okay, you don’t have to be like everyone else, as they hunt in the day, you can hunt during the night” he said as he now went over and sat next to you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, as he rubbed arm. “Please, lets try it again, not for me or anyone, but for yourself, show everyone that you can be just like them.” Neteyam said as he kissed your head.

You thought about it, it was true, you were doing it for everyone. You had tried becoming one of the people to try and please everyone, that you had forgotten about yourself. It was decided, this time you were doing it for yourself. “You’re right, I’ll do it for me” you said looking into Neteyam’s eyes. He smiled and gave you a small peck on your lips, making you return the gesture. 

ₚᵣₑᵥᵢₒᵤₛ ₚₐᵣₜ, ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

[queen-of-the-vampires]

Don’t Mess With The Queen

Characters: Klaus Mikaelson x Hybrid!Reader

Word count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Request by anonymous: Could u do a imagine where the reader is friends with the mystic falls gang and is a werewolf and finds out that she and klaus r mates?

Summary: People who you want to call your friends are planning on killing the love of your life. It’s your job to show them who’s really the boss.

Author’s Note: This is a female!reader. I did change this request a tad, but I hope you like it! I haven’t written for TVD in a while now, so please bear with me on this. After asking a few people, I have decided to end this on a fluffy note. I did write an angsty alternate ending, but I don’t know if the anon who requested wanted that or not.

No one knows why you’re really here. They all think you’re their friend, so they feel comfortable disclosing their plan right in front of you. You want to be friends with them because they seem like genuinely nice people, but they are so fueled by rage and revenge that they’ll do anything to get it… even plotting against your mate, your sire, the love of your life.

Stefan and Damon have spent their entire life fighting each other and putting their noses in places where it doesn’t belong. Elena and Caroline have always been the people who want to fix others, to make them better even if there is nothing wrong with them. Bonnie is always stuck in the middle of everyone’s problems, putting herself and others in danger for no reason.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Elena asks, taking out the last bit of weapons she has stashed in the Boarding House.

“First thing we need to do is pick a location. When is Klaus most vulnerable?” Stefan asks.

“Yeah, the last time we did that, Elijah betrayed us. That moonrock or whatever was our only chance to get him at his weakest.”

“You were one of Klaus’ bitches. What do you think?” Damon asks and turns to you.

“What?” you ask, pulling back from your own thoughts.

“You spent over two years sired to him before Tyler saved you. You must know things that can help here,” Elena says.

What she says is true. You were sired to Klaus for two years, but not in the way they believe. You were sired to him in the beginning when you were first turned by Klaus’ mother. You were a werewolf that was in the same village as Klaus and his family. You two became fast friends, always leaning on each other whenever his abusive father and your abusive mother decided to make you two their toys.

Everything was going fine until one of your own decided to kill the youngest member of the Mikaelson family. There was a family friend of Esther, Tatia, that she used her blood in a spell that would make them the Original vampires. Klaus wanted you to have the same thing, so without his parents knowing, he gave you some of that wine. You were the first-ever turned hybrid that came from a spell.

You and Klaus have spent every moment together ever since. What the gang of Mystic Falls doesn’t know is just how old you are. They think you were just another hybrid that he made with Elena’s blood, stuck with him against your will. Tyler found your pack in the mountains and proceeded to unsire every single one of Klaus’ hybrids. When Tyler got to you, that’s when you started to catch onto what he was doing.

If Tyler wanted to desperately to save you, then you were going to act like you wanted to be saved. You came to Mystic Falls and befriended the vampires in the town. Now, they all think that you hate Klaus as much as they do when really, you’re just as in love with him as you were when you first met him.

“He really liked hiding out in the woods, though, they’re usually on werewolf territory, so good luck trying to get there. It’s probably why you can never find him. The werewolves will get to you before he does. He hears chatter in the wind and he moves to another pack site.”

“That’s smart,” Caroline comments.

“Yeah, so you’re not going to find him there.”

“Guys, we need to figure out something, or else more people are going to get hurt,” Elena says. Sometimes, you really want to kill her so you don’t have to hear her speak. “Klaus needs to die.”

Hearing them talk about killing the love of your life enrages you a little bit. You could take every single person in here without breaking a sweat, but you don’t turn to violence just yet. You take out your phone to let Klaus know exactly what they’re planning. You’d be a bad girlfriend if you let them attack without warning him.

They’re planning on killing you, my love.

It’s cute if they think they can.

They seem hell-bent on figuring it out.

I’m not afraid of them if that’s what you’re worried about. They can’t hurt me even with their best player.

I’m worried someone is going to get very hurt. What should I tell them?

Tell them where I am. Let them come. If it’s a war they want, I’m only happy to provide.

Are you sure?

I’m always sure, love.

You put your phone away and look at the small group, getting up to join the elite circle.

“I do know where Klaus lives.”

“That would have been nice to know a little earlier, don’t you think?” Damon sneers.

“Damon, don’t,” Stefan butts in. “Where is he?”

“New Orleans. That place is crawling with witches and vampires, but he and his family are stationed there.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because he took me there once. The witches will know once you arrive, but most of them are scared of Klaus anyway that they’ll help you blend in. Everyone from that town knows the Mikaelsons are royalty, but their castle doesn’t have a lot of guards protecting it. If you want to get to him, that’s where you want to do it.”

“How do you know all of this? This seems awfully suspicious for someone who isn’t sired to him anymore.”

“He still thinks I am. He’ll call me every day and ask for something. He figures if he has a hybrid in another state that I can do his dirty work for him elsewhere. You want to get Klaus? That’s how you’re going to do it.”

“She does have a point. Better to take this fight to his turf than ours. He’s more comfortable there,” Stefan points out.

Now that they know a location, it didn’t take long for them to come up with a plan of attack. Of course, you told everything to Klaus as soon as you were on the plane to get to New Orleans. He told you not to worry about a thing because he’ll plan a little something for their arrival.

No one messes with the King and his Queen.

When you land in New Orleans, the gang is eager to carry out their plan of attack. Just like you said, the town is crawling with witches who sense you the minute you landed. Every single witch knows you by heart, so they’re confused why you’re with them and not with Klaus. Your love must have only told them the basic information instead of what was really going on.

“Okay, where is this son of a bitch?” Damon asks.

“The French Quarter is where he likes to hang out. You’ll want to start there. Caroline and Elena will blend in more since they’ve never been here, but you two might stick out like a sore thumb. Just be prepared. If anything, I know these guys so let me do the talking.” You pause right in front of the group and turn to Bonnie. “And Bonnie? These guys know you’re a Bennett witch. Try not to do magic unless absolutely necessary. Klaus has a thing with witches.”

You lead the group into the French Quarter while keeping your head down to avoid conflict. The group follows your lead until you reach the middle of the place you call home.

“Stay here,” you say and leave the group on your own.

You approach the small bar within the Quarter, and lean over the counter a tad, looking at the bartender.

“Is Klaus here?”

“I’m right here,” you hear your lover’s voice. You and the Mystic Falls gang turn to see him standing in one of the many doorways that enter the French Quarter. “I hear you’re looking for me?”

“Where in the world did you hear that?” Damon asks, giving you a side glare. You step away from the group and speed over to Klaus, standing just a tad behind him. He smirks and doesn’t break eye contact with the older brother. “Traitor.”

“It isn’t a betrayal if I was never on your side to begin with,” you state.

“What are you doing? You’re not sired to him anymore,” Stefan tries to appeal to you.

“My sire bond wore off in the tenth century. I’m a lot older than you think I am. I really did want to be your friend, but you’re all so driven by rage and revenge that you can’t leave us alone until we’re fixed to the standards set by you. Next time you plan to kill someone, you should think twice about who you let into your home.”

“We should get going,” Elena whispers.

“Always the level-headed one, Elena. Too bad you can’t,” Klaus grins.

Stefan and Damon try to leave using their vampire speed, but they are blocked by the spell put there from the witches in this town. It’s like a big spell to trap the four vampires and the one witch inside. Caroline steps into the sun and immediately screams in pain, seeking the shade to calm her burning skin.

“My daylight ring isn’t working.”

“Yes, you’re all trapped here. For how long is still yet to be determined. Welcome to the French Quarter ladies and gentlemen,” Klaus chuckles.

“I can’t use my magic,” Bonnie panics.

“The next time you even think about going after Klaus, I won’t be so nice,” you say.

Klaus wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering something into your ear.

“Pardon us, we have other business to tend to.”

Klaus leads you away from the group, and only when you two are alone, does he turn you so that you’re facing him.

“You can relax, Klaus, no one is going to hurt you. Not as long as I am alive.”

“I can take care of myself, love,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, but isn’t it better when I do it?”

“Tenfold.”

“Always and forever, my love,” you whisper.

You lean in and press your lips to his, showing him just how much you love him.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why! (not sure how much i will write for this fandom, but add yourself if you want!)

@essie1876​ @choosemyname​ @cuddlyklaus​ @sotmperrie​ @akshi8278​ @chynarosep101​ @gh0stgurl​ @littlemissslytherinprincess​ @honeybums-blog​ @kendall-michele​ @tdntu0​ @miraclesoflove​ @nasatonie​ @thelazywitchphotographer​

[igotathingforvampires]

Aro Volturi N.S.F.W Alphabet

CANON DIVERGENT.

Info on Reader: Reader is an Elemental Gift user like Benjamin

CW/TW: a SLIGHT MENTION of assault but NO DETAIL AT ALL (as a SA survivor I do not use this lightly but I do like representation and not having the survivor be that cliche broken doll we end abusers here thank you)

How you two met:

You…..oh you. You’re standing with the Cullens wondering how the FUCK you got here.

Why am I here? What’s with this tiny little kid who can touch me and tell me things. Awe but she’s cute.

You’re just a bored Vampire who knows Carlisle and is Esme’s BFF.

You’re a nomad, and a badass one, see your gift is the Elements like Benjamin, it’s why Amun has his eye on you and is freaked out.

You and Benji are buddies now. Benjamin specializes in Earth and Water. You specialize in Fire and Air.

So now, here you are watching a bunch of cloaked baddies stomping towards you. But Carlisle and you have spoken frequently, the Volturi aren’t bad.

However, they are cautious.

And caution bred by fear is something you know to be wary of.

So you keep yourself a bit behind Carly. Waiting and watching.

The leader— that must be Aro you think, flings his hood back and suddenly you feel your entire chest clench up and a yank within yourself towards him. “Oh what the fuck.” You growl. Glancing UP at the Old Gods you couldn’t help but snap at them “ARE YOU ALL KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?! HIM?!”

The platinum haired man barked angrily, “who dares?!”

Aro is too busy glancing at his brother Marcus who’s smiling. He nods at Aro and huffs a bit of a sigh.

The raven haired man turns ever so slowly, casting his red gaze over the crowd and it falls to Carlisle. “Carly.”

“Aro?”

“Who is that behind you.” Aro can feel his chest hurt like a chain is being pulled.

Carlisle looks confused and glances behind him where you are shaking your head face palming—looking embarrassed.

Edward and Bella are utterly confused, before Edward listens to Aro’s and your thoughts and gets a look of disgust, “REALLY.” He barks.

You feel the rage of a thousand suns consume you. “I CAN’T PICK IT YA KNOW AND HEY WHADDAYA MEAN REALLY —ASSHOLE DON’T TALK ABOUT MY MATE LIKE THAT!”

The entire field is utterly still as you’re heaving, standing on your tip toes in front of the bronze haired vampire pointing at Edwards cringing face, “but it’s—“ he starts, you let out a growl and sparks fly off you.

Edward shuts up.

“I will light your ass on fire.” You whisper hiss.

The Volturi are just tilting their heads like WTF.

Marcus is trying not to laugh, Caius has just become stunned glancing between his brother and the woman across the battlefield.

Aro is getting GIDDY.

“And who is the girl.” He asks.

You turn, your hips swinging with attitude and your arms crossing as you scoff. “Psh, get a load of this Mother fucker,” you whisper to yourself glaring across the expanse of space. “HEY. I have a name.”

------

-----

His First Impression:

Of course my mate swears like a sailor.

Is Aro’s first thought.

His next thought is that you’re awful adorable. Awe so lithe and cute and— Much too … hm, much too adorable to be mine I would think how In the —a violent wind kicks up and flames burst out from your body enveloping your form as you take a few steps forward.

Ah there it is.

“You wanna ask me my name— darling.” You smile wide at him.

“Of course,” his purr is laced with annoyance, but he’s far too intrigued. “Who might you be?”

“I’m y/n. No last name, my parents were assholes.” You shrug. “So, we doing this trial or we figuring the whole—“ you wave your hand between the gaping maw of land between you two, “bond thing.”

Aro pauses, a twitch on his lips, “after the proceedings cara mia.”

“Ooo… love me a man that speaks Italian—” You smirk, raising a brow and cock your head to the side.

Aro makes a stifled choked off growl as his eyes go black— thank God he lost the ability to blush as arousal slammed into him like a freight train.

You’re obviously annoyed, and have as Caius mutters ‘more balls than a Christmas tree’ and you are ready for this trial to be over.

Frankly so is Aro he wants to drag you back to Volterra and bring you to heel.

Not that he thinks that’s going to happen.

But he loves playing with fire. And you’re full of it.

He watches you glance at the Cullens and the half-breed. “Alright Nessie come on let’s show him what you can do kiddo.” You scoop the girl up and you and the Cullens walk over with Jake behind you.

-----

-----

When does he know of his feelings?

When within reaching distance you set Renessme down and pat her head, “okay tiny Loch Ness, say hello.”

Bella is panicking, but she trusts you it seems, she better, you have no qualms frying— sans mate— every vampire here. They do their little song and dance. Aro tries to talk about the danger and you feel your temper boil over.

“Darling.” You croon taking a step forward with a sharp but soft smile.

You remind him of a lioness, purring softly but ready to tear into him with one movement.

He raises a brow; you are in 6 inch heels putting you nose to nose with him. “Yes carissima?” He breathes deep and nearly groans out loud, you smell so good, like spring and a heady feminine scent like perfume edged in lilacs and lavender.

“Could you pretty pretty pretty please just keep an eye on little Nessie— I hate to tell you but she’s quite important to me and I can assure you she fits in with humans better than the Cullens do.”

“And if I don’t.”

You let flames dance in your gaze. “I’ll roast everyone here except your brothers and their mates and make you start the fuck over without me.”

Aro’s done.

Cupid has struck him in his dead heart.

He’s never been more terrified or aroused or enraged at once at your dulcet threat purred from such sweet lips.

He wants to grip you by your hair to him, pick you up and haul you to somewhere private and teach you a lesson.

He wants to fight you. And it’s quite clear you’re ready to rumble, though he’s not sure you’d let him win. Or that it wouldn’t end up tangling in a bed somewhere on fire. That’s fine too.

A manic grin spreads across his face, eyes going pitch black as he snatches you up by the waist and hauls you closer loving the startled look in your eyes settling into something dark and wanting. “And if I agree?”

The brothers roll their eyes.

Go figure you’d be as bat shit as he is.

“I’ll leave with you right now.” You give him THAT look matching his almost mad grin.

A low purr echos from him making Bella clap her hands over Nessie’s ears. “Una ragazza così meravigliosa, credo che mi piaccia come funziona la tua mente.” Such a wonderful girl, I think I like how your mind works.

But your plans to drag your mate off end as Alice shows up with her witness right when he’s about to whisk you off for some obvious adult time.

Both of you sigh put out and exasperated.

Yes you just about ended an entire potential threat with batting pretty eyes and coaxing the leader of the Volturi into some fun.

But now that’s ruined because of the psychic. Alice is looking rather embarrassed as the proceedings go. Given that she probably saw how everything was about to go down.

Aro can sense you’re as annoyed as he is, that and you’re not leaving his side. And you don’t mind touching him but you’re not because oh yeah he needs to focus. But oh he can see your hand twitching towards his own.

He can easily turn his gift off and so he does and grips your hand, quickly jerking you to his side.

Electricity lights along your skin at the contact and both of you jolt a moment and glance sideways looking amused.

This was going to be fun.

——

——

How’d you end up with the Volturi?

Alice and her witnesses ease their concerns about Nessie. Aro placates the Volturi as you linger back behind him a bit. Everyone just poof! Vanishes.

“So ah, can we get my stuff first before you whisk me off around the world?” You ask sweetly.

Aro’s a bit startled, “you wish to leave already?”

You realize he would be willing to stay for a bit and let you acclimate.

“Nah where you go I fucking go, come on baby. Let’s get the fuck outta dodge.” You give him a teasing shove as you walk by making Carlisle’s coven silently shake in mirth at his surprised expression.

Carlisle murmurs, “Good luck Aro.”

“Fuck off Carly.” The King growls back before following you.

That’s all they wrote.

You were in. And you made yourself at home quite easily.

Jane and Alec adore you— you saw them and just SQUEEd. “OMG they’re so DEADLY but so CUTE!”

Jane wasn’t quite sure what to do with you picking her UP and hugging her nuzzling your nose to her cheek, “she’s just a tiny tot of doom I adore it! We’re going to burn the SHIT outta people.”

Alec just sat starry eyed as you ruffled his hair, “I know boys don’t like being picked up.”

Jane had become a koala on you. And you didn’t mind.

Well. You’re Mama now. Aro couldn’t be more pleased as you continue to help develop their skills trying things outside of the box.

See, that’s also a sort of talent you have— you can help people learn how to use their gifts because of how you think. Not a gift per say, but certainly useful.

Jane it turns out can utilize the fire element.

Alec can utilize air.

With you knowing both you’re easily able to teach Alec how to hone his targets and even allow his gift to POP UP near someone rather than from his hands.

Jane is capable of setting shit on fire now.

Aro isn’t sure if he’s proud or worried.

Bit of both. But you are STERN with their use of powers. And when Jane set Felix’s foot on fire she was forced to shine everyone’s shoes in the Volturi in the afternoon and write 200,000 times at HUMAN PACE. “We do not light family on fire.”

She never did it again.

The inner coven loves you. Caius and you are besties Marcus is like a big brother always doting on you. Athenadora and Sulpricia are of course still together as companions, and don’t worry about his ex wife— they were on the rocks she’s ecstatic someone else can keep him in line.

The coven instantly takes to you, in fact you’re now basically Mother to everyone. Scolding, teaching, comforting, you do it all. But you’re also a leader and a ruthless one at that.

A perfect fit Aro thinks.

——

——

How’d he deal with his emotions?

You are driving Aro FUCKING CRAZY.

Literally mad.

You know how to push his buttons and you are not one to do as told. So for him, he who has anyone bending to his will to see you just cock a brow at him and laugh “awe.”

He wants to choke you half to death.

You are a Queen. He tells himself. It’s to be expected that you’d challenge him.

Sulpricia finds it HILARIOUS and you two are besties. Fuck that’s all he needs. She is ever so encouraging of your independence.

He often finds himself in Sulpricia’s study pacing rampantly, “what am I going to do with her?”

“You know you like it.” Sully says lounging back on her couch. “If you didn’t you wouldn’t be so utterly ass over tea kettle.”

Aro is not good with his emotions when it comes to jealousy. And he is JEALOUS.

You’re perfect to him, utterly beautiful, you are the sun and he Icarus stupidly flying as high as he can towards you in hopes to reach the light.

You’re also inclined to let him touch you whenever you want to express things without using words— and you’ve learned to let him speak to you telepathically as well.

So often you just sit with your pinkies touching on a couch and have back and forth silently except for the occasional twitch on your lips at a humorous comment.

You’ve managed to make him huff a laugh occasionally.

But he is utterly posessive. He does not like it when men stare too long, admiring is one thing, but nothing escapes Aro.

So when a lower guard had been in trouble for an infraction and when you had disciplined him the utter disrespect for a concubine replacement was across Aro’s mind and…welll—

Guard died.

You had just looked startled and gave a ‘oh well’ kinda shrug before touching ARo’s hand. Feel better baby?

Yes you called him baby in private, so modern, and he would NEVER admit he loved it. Baby, darling, love, honey, the list went on and each one twisted his insides into ribbons of absolute adoration.

You had actually taken to the bond so well Marcus had informed him that it was practically cemented.

His only hang up was himself.

——

——

Who does he ask for help?

Didyme is no longer there— his dear sister, a deep sorrow as he was accidentally responsible for her death.

Marcus however is always there to be the voice of reason, and he sits Aro down and listens to his brother spill his guts. Aro is terrified, he is well aware he is THE monster that makes OTHER monsters keep in line.

But for you to look at him like that? He could never bear it. His heart would break.

Marcus sighs, “Aro come here.” He drags his brother to the training grounds.

Where Aro get’s to see his mate literally tear apart the entire guard with blades…. Did his eyes deceive him— were those made from vampire ash and fangs?!

You pause your onslaught, “oh hi darling!” You prance over and smile, “like them? My witch-smith friend made them for me! Fucking bastards kept coming for me after awhile and ya know I just hate the idea of wasting shit.”

Marcus glanced at Aro and gave him a I told you so.

“Everything okay?” You ask looking concerned. You are dragging him along as he partially willingly let’s you take him to his sister’s gardens. “What’s wrong?”

And so, he exhales and does the one thing he’s never done with his gift.

He touches your hand and shows you his own thoughts.

He expects your recoil. Expects you to shun him. Expects your hatred and braces himself for it.

You gasp and when he’s about to drag his hand away and you grip him tighter. “No don’t…let me…” and so you watch— thousands of years of memories over the course of a week or two. Asking silent questions as the images play, getting silent answers in return.

And so, in return, you show him your human life— a life that had been riddled with abusers, torment and lack of love, the iron in your spine that had solidified your creation when you had dragged yourself from an open alley way at dawn into the sewer system after being left to die being drained by a nomad after a brutal assault. You shared with him that it had taken a lot for you to even move after what had happened.

Esme had found you.

And so your friends made sure you were okay even if you didn’t follow their diet.

You both spend time going over your pasts, Aro gently asking questions and you doing the same to answer as best you could.

It was why Rosalie and you got along so well, there were some experiences one could only understand by going through it. And you both had learned how to cope with the trauma you had.

Aro is patient, both of you taking time to feel through each others wounds, taking time to rework into each others personal space.

Marcus is stunned to tell Aro that the bond is nigh unbreakable after this exchange.

The Kings magically -coughs- big brother Marcus loses his shit finding out and Caius leads the search party with Demetri— cough cough— find the nomad and he’s now in a box limb free 15 feet below the dungeon with a tube connecting him to the surface, his tongue removed and he only gets blood once a year. *Jane lit them on fire multiple times to practice her accuracy and aim*

You find out of course, and smile through the dry sobs as all three embrace you like a big protective group hug. For the first time in a very long time, it’s safe.

Truly safe.

——

——

What happens when he tells you?

Aro is a man of few words, and honestly not much is needed between you two with the ability to go back and forth with his gift.

So in the middle of a walk in Didyme’s gardens he merely grabs your hand gently and kisses the top of your fingers.

And you’re flooded with his emotions.

The warmth and tenderness and absolute adoration is almost enough to restart your dead heart as venom pools in your eyes. “Aro…”

He loves you, loves you more than his own life, would give anything for you to make you smile.

This isn’t the love that is complacent, to just sit idle and rust away, he wants to chase you for eternity, whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

And you flood him right back— lowering the barriers you had and after a moment he merely leans down and presses his forehead to your own, giving the two of you time to just bask in the warmth of affection that’s swirling back and forth akin to the waves of the tide under the moon and sun at twilight.

——

——

First Kiss?

The leaders of Volterra were in the throne room, the Queens having their own thrones behind their husbands but visible carved in different woods to represent their personalities with different intricate features much like the brother’s thrones holding different crowning points but all the same color.

Your own is the same color as Aro’s throne, but mingled with mahogany accents. Ruby red stones slotted at the top with a crescent moon and sun carving emboldened with gold spiked halo.

Caius' mate's throne is a pale color, affixed with branches and beautiful earth like tones, complimenting her grounded nature.

Marcus’ Witch Mate is merely embellished in a ash throne, deep red almost black gems and the symbol for the overall witch and vampire alliance above her throne.

With all three positions of Queen in Volterra taken up by a true mate, it is the most stable the Volturi have been in several millennia.

But that day in particular was rough, there were a few traitors that had been brought forward— and one of them had managed to get loose from Felix as Aro had been gaining information lunging for the King’s throat.

You moved so fast no one even saw you as you streaked forward like a ghost and lobbed the vampire’s head off holding a blade made of vampire teeth expertly with an animalistic snarl.

You had positioned yourself in front of Aro, crouched, blade poised and your eyes wide and wild, teeth flashing with a dangerous snarl.

Marcus’ witch had already shielded Aro but paused when she saw how enraged you were. Athena and Sulpricia had faltered, Caius looked utterly proud.

You spun round, dropping your blade— knowing Felix and the others had everything in hand as Aro had reached for you, the two of you locked in an embrace, his hands holding your face still as your own hands grasped his wrists. Foreheads pressed together—

The coven was used to this, a private conversation but you could feel the utter terror that had gone through him when he saw you out of the corner of his eye. If anything had happened to you—he was almost angry at you.

But he could easily sense the rage that had consumed you at the thought of someone hurting him. Despite knowing the guard and Jane would Never allow it, your instincts had taken over.

No one would ever take from you again.

And you had been frightened.

Behind that rage when he got past it was utter fear that he’d be gone and you’d be all alone again all the tender memories would be the last you’d have of him as you gave a dry sob before the venom dropped from your eyes— a true show of vampiric emotion that was a rarity.

“Carissima, no. I’ll not leave you that easily.” He murmured and not giving a flying fuck about anyone in the room kissed you full on the mouth gathering you up in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered half broken against his mouth. “I’m sorry-“

“I know I know, shhh cara mia shhh,” gathering you up he merely flitted out of the room leaving the others to deal with the issue.

Tons of snuggles. He had bundled you up to him in his private rooms and merely kept your hands together enjoying the shared emotions knowing the other was close and safe.

Aro knew exactly how to calm you, he merely showed you all his favorite memories, of the coven, of his travels, the antics his brother’s got up to. He replayed the moment he first saw you.

That always made you laugh of course she swears like a sailor.

——

——

First Time?

It’s in an elevator.

Okay so here’s the thing. The Volturi have these massive events, and your official coronation happens at one of these.

Aro is so proud.

And so fucking jealous as you are danced across the floor with other vampires— who are oh so respectful and as they should be as Aro watches from the upper floor like an angel of death.

You look stunning, your smile lighting up the entire ballroom, friends from near and far are there— even then Cullens— God bless Carly he even had animal blood brought for him.

You’re dancing around with Nessie laughing and watching the girl child giggle like a fiend before handing her off to the Shifter Aro hated the smell but it was what it was.

Over the course of the evening he was getting awful tired of sharing you. And as the evening wound down to an end you both were just going to take the elevator back up to the private rooms as the Ballroom was on the top floor of Volterra.

The energy crackled in the small space and you both glanced at one another. It was like a short fuse had been lit on a stick of dynamite.

We’re so not doing this in an elevator are we?

You didn’t realize you had said it out loud even as you both gravitated towards one another and his hands tangled into your hair sending gold pins flying to the ground as his mouth found yours and you let out a deep moan as his tongue swiped your lips before you happily opened them.

“We’re going to be patient. Cara mia. ” He said sternly more to himself than you— then groaned when your teeth tugged gently on his bottom lip knowing it drove him crazy. “Sarai la mia morte. Sulla mia tomba scriveranno 'ha giocato con il fuoco ed è perito felicemente’” his voice became heated as his hands moved over your form, “non mi importa più, vieni da me mia fiamma, brucia con me.” You will be my death. On my grave they will write 'he played with fire and perished happily'. I don't care anymore, come to me my flame, burn with me.

His hands were gripping your backside and hauling you up, pressing himself firmly between your thighs before grinding against you. But when his teeth scraped your neck your brain shorted out—

“Oh for gods sake Aro just fuck me already—” your hands were scrabbling at his waist coat and shirt pleased how easily the buttons pinged off the walls of the elevator.

Your mate let out a pleased noise, one that was utterly inhuman when your hands tangled into his raven locks and knocked the golden V pin to the floor allowing the ocean and pomegranate scent of his to curtain you from the world as he bent his head down and kissed you as if it were the last thing he would get to do just then. Right before he smacked his hand against the emergency stop button jolting the ride to the private floor still.

If you thought his kisses were something to be swooning over— because he always knew what you needed.

Well his gift extends to much and he is in tune with it.

Your mind is his favorite place to be, and he brutally uses what he knows to his advantage as his fingers skim up your legs flinging your skirt over your thighs to teasingly grind himself against you till you’re almost clawing at him half feral.

“My pretty little mate—“ he croons at you, “you looked so beautiful cara mia,” kissing down your throat before biting marks into your flesh licking them before continuing on as his teeth jerk the fabric of your bodice and sleeves off not even bothering with his hands. “E tu sei tutto mio, cazzo.” And you’re all fucking mine.

You were busy molding your hands against his form, loving how it was just ratcheting up his half mad with desire motions, twitchy, greedy, desperate to touch, “What was it you joked about that one time?” He was referring to a memory with your best friends over drinks.

You gulped and shivered a bit. “I believe I said sometimes a girl just wants to ahem— get slammed to a wall and fucked stupid?”

He smirked as his hands tore fabric off you letting his fingers to glide along your skin, allowing your own to do the same and showing you know exactly what he liked through the bond of touch.

If you’d been human the air would have left your lungs as he pressed his body tight to your own, pinning you in place letting you feel what you did to him, the hard length of his cock pressed into your belly. “What do you say we take care of that, hm?”

You’re speaking in tongues before he even takes you fully, and roughly, there’s no slow tender love making and frankly you’re just glad for it.

His wild smile sliding into a predatory proud smirk when you’re just a mess; whining at him, begging, pleading, twitching against him and oh you’re just so pretty when at his mercy.

He literally has the tongue of the devil.

“Did I finally break you little one?” He croons despite his rough movements sending you into another shockwave of bliss as your nails make claw marks in the wall.

Fuck he had— you’ll do anything if he’ll just continue.

Your submission is like a drug, he’s mad on it, hands digging against you, making small fissures of cracks along your hips that make you groan gleeful as you push closer for more of his touches.

“That’s right bambi, give me everything.”

That’s all you hear before he’s fucking you into the wall of the elevator, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and neck just to relish in the pain and pleasure filled noises that escape from you as you beg for more, more, just please give more it’s all you want.

“My good bambi.” He growls as he begins it all over again, rumbling in your ear as your try to escape the onslaught of sensations— but happy you can’t as his grip has you immovable. “You’re not escaping me just yet.”

You’re both a mess, not that either of you care. Adjusting yourselves as best you can—

You’re lucky his private rooms are close and he simply carries you and flits you both into his rooms; you both end up continuing what was started.

——

——

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is a touch telepath, he knows exactly what you need.

But he also surprises you with what you didn’t even know you needed.

Snuggles, so many snuggles— Aro is not a tactile person— but with you?

Forget it.

He’s practically melting into your form and trying to fuse himself to you.

Massages, nuzzling your hair, biting.

Lots of biting— but not hard bites, love bites. Pressing his teeth to your skin to leave little imprints that he just can’t get over. You always poke fun at him for it.

Plus let’s face it.

Bite = Love.

He and Caius are on one mind with that.

He also took a note from Marcus and you both enjoy the heat of the baths together after a particularly long rough romp.

Which turns into a bath romp.

Because ahem *REASONS*

“I’m King I don’t need a reason to have you— now come here.” He’ll huff imperiously when you giggle at him as he drags you close into his embrace kissing you.

Okay he lies.

You looked too pretty in the bath.

Aro can’t help himself. That’s the reason.

——

——

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is SHOOK when you tell him your favorite thing about him is his hands. You never feel misunderstood.

Even in the rare fights you simply huff and reach out to him, wiggling your fingers with a pleading glance; or if he won’t take your hand you’ll walk over sit in his lap and headbutt your forehead to his like an angry cat.

But usually Aro will take your hand and you both have a deep understanding of where you’re both coming from.

After a few moments it’s settled.

You kiss his hands, he knows you love how he plays you like a finely tuned instrument when alone.

Love when he delves his fingers into your hair and cradles you close even if you’re in the throne room— he’s the fucking king he can do what he likes damn it.

But Aro is startled by this— everyone hates touching him even though he can control his gift, they seem to think that— aside from his brothers and sister in laws— that he just loves to dive into people’s minds for funsies.

No it’s awful. Plain awful. He can barely stand his own mind why would he want to traverse someone else’s?

But that brings us to what he likes about you— he LOVES your head space. When he’s stressed it’s his favorite place to be because you have a vivid imagination, as a writer as well you show him stories you’ve thought of and worlds you’ve created with vivid detail. He finds it quite amusing to use watch your thoughts too on a daily, you like it simply because he’s close.

But aside from that it’s you.

Just You.

Just ALL of you.

He can’t pick don’t make the man pick, he would just keep you near him for eternity which you seem to have no issues with.

———

———

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically…I am a disgusting person…)

He is quite a posessive person.

Two Words:

Breeding Kink

You’re his and his alone, so the idea of ah— claiming you that way just sends him off into the ether.

The fact that you both have a breeding kink and literally can’t have kids is a GREAT thing because you’ve literally sat there a absolute mess after round five and thought out loud as he tenderly cleans you up, “shit thank god we can’t reproduce because I am 100% sure that’d have knocked my ass up—” which has had him shaking in mirth having to pause to control himself after a few moments.

Beg him for it.

Make that whining needy noise in the back of your throat at him for him to finally give you what you need.

He’ll just lose it, pin you by the throat and well— you’ve broken a few beds this way.

He has no shame.

Just glances at the bed, hits speed dial to the furniture store and orders a new one.

His only other favorite thing with C as he soon found out from O (you’ll see) was he adores when you swallow down everything he gives you. That’s got him rumbling in Italian about what a good girl you are and how much you please him.

———

———

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a MASSIVE Pleasure Dom. And when I say Dom.

HE GOT DOM ENERGY.

With very mild Sadistic tendencies. (Thanks a lot Caius ya pervy fucker)

However he is also a very sincere soft streak when you’re a very good pet.

He picked up pet play from his sadistic brother hearing him call his amore Bunny. One day down the rabbit hole that is Google and he was hooked.

But he calls you Bambi. It’s an Italian term for baby-girl.

It also works because you become like a damn deer in the headlights when he pulls the Dominant voice on you.

It thrums with a low purr and has the capability to just make your brain go wait what?

HE’S A FUCKING SWITCH.

You had been pissed as shit at him. “I don’t know whether I want to strangle you or fuck you to death!” You paused because you had literally throat pinned him to the wall, the stone crumbling beneath him, feeling the muscles of his neck working as he swallowed nervously.

You were about to let go but saw his eyes had gone totally black and expectant and startled but excited.

He was just as fucking confused as you both calculated in a matter of seconds what had happened.

You were first to catch on. “Oh?….OH...….oooooohhhhhhh ….. you….you son of a….” You sputtered as he got a sly grin, “you can’t just look at me like— you are so ill behaved!!”

He wasn’t far behind and raised a black brow at you looking mischievous, “…..and what are you going to do about it mia regina?”

Next thing he knew he was face planted on his office floor with your boot pressed on his cheek making him groan low. “Gonna make you regret mouthing off to me is what I’m going to do my Aro.”

Edge him. Don’t let him touch you all day till he begs. He loves when you exert your authority especially on him? Oh forget it.

Queen Slay.

Literally you are his Queen and you are the only one who get’s to fucking tell him what to do.

And you ruthlessly do so when he’s in the mood. All you hear is “mia regina?” He’ll croon at you, as your hand comes up and drags him to you by his tie.

“would you like to be of service to me Aro?”

Magic words. He’s done, let him have you and he will literally just focus on your pleasure.

Worship Kink.

You had dropped to your knees at his desk and laid your head in his lap and he almost lost his god damn mind. You purred at him, “il mio maestro”.

Aro .exe has stopped fucking working.

———

———

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Thanks to the tactile telepathy as well as the fact that he and his brothers have slept their way through history, Aro is a very mixed lover.

When I say greedy as a lover, he wants your pleasure for himself. And will literally drive you to it till you’re sobbing for mercy.

He has none.

But he does take pity on you when he knows you’re truly at your limit with touch.

You weren’t inexperienced but his own experience blew yours out of the damn water. Can literally have you on the edge in mere minuets. And is SMUG about it.

Fucking smug bastard just watching you with that smirk on his face and a ‘well?’ Kinda expression.

You have to beg if you want it.

You have to plead, you have to let him hear you or he’ll just keep going and I quote ‘hmmm I can’t hear you cara mia, you’re being so quiet you know that makes me want to fuck you harder, come now, let me hear you— don’t make me have to drag it from you baby girl. You know I love to hear your sweet sounds.”

Could probably kill you if you weren’t already dead with what he can do with his hands.

His tongue is even better.

When asked which you preferred you had just panted desperately after a hard orgasm, “any. All. Both. God just…holy fuck.”

He cracked up over that. “My poor baby I broke her.”

————

————

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves having you in his lap.

Prefers to see your face and eyes, seems to need it.

But occasionally he just loves gripping your neck from behind and feeling you gasp against his grip as he slams into you roughly.

Adores anything that has you clinging onto him for dear life.

Likes being in a position to mark you. Favorite thing ever.

You had once tested his patience (willfully hoping for this outcome) a bit too much and he had pinned you completely immobile to the desk of his office and fucked you within an inch of your immortal life gagging you with his black tie.

“you just have to test me don’t you mia regina?” He had growled in your ear leaning over you, his hand crunching the ornate wood to splinters as you keened and whined for him to keep going. “Such a ill behaved thing you are, should just keep you here like this for when I please hm?”

He was not joking, you were kept there quite happily under his desk sitting at his feet your head on his lap waiting and absolutely willing.

He could feel your hands grip his thighs, “quit that I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work—“ his voice teetered off in a guttural growl as he looked down.

You were biting his shirt looking up at him already nudging yourself between his thighs your teeth digging into his trouser zipper and tugging down.

his hands were gripping your hair jerking you up to kiss him deep, a growl against your lips, “Fucking damn it— come here.”

When you can get him to swear which is rare— yeah…

He didn’t exactly sound angry.

But he sure fucked you like he was though.

“This is what you were after hm? You brat!” A harsh laugh as he pinned you down a bit harder, “fine then I should ensure you’re good….and….sated…shouldn’t I bambi?”

———

———

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very sincere.

Teasing but only in a very sexual way.

Borders on humiliation but he respects you too much.

Very serious though when he focuses on you.

He’s focusing on all the sensations you’re sending him, letting you know what he’s feeling as well which just sets you into the damn ether.

———

———

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s ARO.

The man is vain.

The man is neat.

Clean and pristine.

He’d give a regal huff of annoyance, “I am not a heathen darling.”

———

———

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ohhh you wouldn’t know it but he’s such a god damn romantic.

He is. And he MAKES time for you. The schedules are changed so you have time together more often— something that was never done before.

Operas, romantic walks out in Volterra at night.

Sightseeing.

Your favorite was your trip to Germany in the winter with a big cozy cottage and a big fire and lots of bedding to ahem— destroy.

Aro has penguin brain.

He brings you small gifts that made him think of you— you have a bracelet that has special charms he had custom made for you, a lochness monster for when you met, a castle obviously for Volterra, a doe, different tiny items that speckled through your life, each one means something— you hardly ever take it off.

You have a collection of very sparkly stones in many jars that he found on his missions.

They are actually gemstones— insert eye roll— they set off pretty prisms through your shared rooms.

“Aren’t you going to make jewelry of them?” Aro asks.

“No darling they are perfect just as they are.” You smile.

Aro actually has the literal voice of a damn angel.

He sings to you in Italian, soft dulcet sweet tones and dances you around your rooms teasing you relentlessly.

Aro writes beautiful poetry. He will at least write one every few months when inspiration comes to him.

You have your own private box at the opera house. As well as being allowed to fund artists across the world, you’ve found incredible talent on broadway and other venues.

Flowers. Aro ensures care for a private greenhouse for you on the roof, each flower has a meaning, and they all bloom year round given the proper temperatures on the greenhouse. “Why would I send you flowers when they die so easily.” He asks kissing your cheek as you smile over the new blooms. “This is everlasting, much more fitting.” He muses.

All his poetry is in a beautiful book Caius got you for your birthday.

———

———

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he do that when he has you?

He is a patient man.

He can wait.

And he has pristine control over himself.

He is too old for pre-pubescent raging hormone crap.

But he will legit melt for you if you do it for him. Prefers it slow, enjoying your touch and loves to watch as you take instruction.

You’re such a good girl for him.

————

———

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Aro is a kinky bastard.

MASSIVE Pleasure Dom.

Worship Kink.

Edging.

Controlling Orgasms *you don’t get to come till he gives permission*

Collaring *your Volturi necklace is LITERALLY on a collar*

Overstimulation. *his gift allows him to know when you’re pushed to hard and when you can take a bit more. When you’re craving that over stimulus, he’ll give it happily. Knowing he can turn you into a babbling speaking in tongues, drooling, eyes rolling back mess just— just— GAH.*

Breeding Kink *Aro has a true breeding kink, ask him to fill you up beg him for it and he’s going to lose his mind.*

Gagging. *he loves to gag you, but also loves being choked by you or you grabbing onto his tie.

Wax Play *you’re a fire elemental user, bringing candles into play is just oh it’s nice. * Prefers to have it done TO him. Your air element gift also allows you to cool the wax quickly and give new sensations.

————

———

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Aro is private, he prefers somewhere comfortable to take his sweet time with you.

Rooms Private, hotel, somewhere he can just lavish you and enjoy everything you can give him.

He’d rather take the time to find a nice comfy setting.

But every blue moon— he’ll just look at you in that specific dress molding to your thighs.

He will drag you into an alley way and just rail the shit out of you keeping you quiet with a firm grip over your mouth as he hisses the dirtiest things in your ear.

You two once had a quick rendezvous in a changing room at a theatre. -shrug- it was empty oh well.

———

———

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

“Master?” You bat your eyes at him

His nostrils flare as he breathes in and just knows exactly what you want and you smell so fucking good.

The tone you use.

He knows. You want him. That’s it.

Unless it’s a trial— and DO NOT DO THIS BEFORE TRIAL.

And if you happen to when he takes your hand send him your fantasies after seeing him standing there all regal and watching his mouth form syllables so well and how much better it’ll be with his mouth— ahem— busy somewhere else.

He will be so mad at you.

He’s glaring at you behind a mask of calm and you can feel the fucking tremor in his limbs.

You just bat your eyes innocently at him and smile.

His face: you’re in SO MUCH trouble.

Brat energy??? During Trial?!??! Now is that the time to give brat energy!!???

Oh. Oh. oh you are so in trouble. When he gets done with ripping some poor idiots head off— okay not really they broke the rules— stalks over to you; grabs you by your oh so pretty collar, “come with me bambi.”

And just pulls you along to your rooms with you giggling the whole way and practically prancing behind him like a— well like a doe prancing into a lions den.

He’s tossed you over his shoulder once and just flitted out of the rooms into your private chambers, hurling you onto the bed before ripping into your clothing. “You best be ready for your punishment.”

“Oooohhhhhh absolutly master.”

“that’s my girl.”

The coven just rolls their eyes. Aro is less manic with you there and you surprisingly bring ease to the coven— so ya know what if that’s what does it whatever.

————

————

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation. No.

Impact play is one thing, but to intentionally hurt you no.

If he does impact play one hand is always touching you to ensure you’re okay.

————

———

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving? The man has a wicked tongue.

His oral game is LEGIT.

Will have you in a puddle of twitching ecstasy in mere moments of teasing because he knows where to touch and that’s not just his tongue but his hands.

Will kiss you all over before even getting to the ahem— final destination.

You’re either ready to combust or ready to strangle him when he finally just begins to devour you.

Eats pussy like a man starved but has all the time to enjoy.

Smug as Fuck.

Expect him to just watch you as you’re coming back down from the absolute height he threw you up to and glaring down at his smug grin as he waits before beginning all over again.

Will go all night if you’ve been ill behaved.

Your record is 20 before you BEGGED for a break.

He finally took pity and gave you a warm bubble bath and snuggles and praises.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like receiving, however it was more just a “hm, that’s nice—“

But with you.

Especially when you had decided to walk into his office, lay your head in his lap as you had sat yourself under his desk so he could work while he played with your hair (you have a comfy cushion there who was he to argue if that was the best way to be close and he could get work done??!!)

But his work was abruptly halted when you had nuzzled his cock through his trousers dragging your mouth wide as he became painfully hard in record time.

“what is it you think you’re doing bambi?” He purred looking oh so curious.

“Nothing.” You muffled around him as your teeth found his zipper and trouser buttons with a rather feral sound.

Upon finding out you had no gag reflex and having your nose buried in his pelvis as you moaned around him he was done for and he didn’t even care.

Work was forgotten.

Loves when you pleasure him, but of course has to be in control for the most part.

Buries his hands into your hair and loves throat fucking you, praising you the entire time. “What a good thing you don’t need to breathe dolcezza.”

You had hummed around him ecstatically.

The reward for this is always drool worthy.

Play with yourself as you do and let him see you do so keeping your clothing out of the way and you’ll have him break finally, that cool haughty composure cracking as his gaze goes just utterly uncontrollably wild, his hips moving a bit harder.

————

———

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You both fuck rough.

But you both also love the slow and sensual moments too.

Especially if you have the time to just drown in one another.

It just depends on the situation.

Rough And Fast:

Slow and Sensual is how it usually starts off, he’s so attentive, so soft and cherishes you, that is till you growl at him for more and he has of course no other option but to give you what he wants.

You’re his queen after all what kind of mate would he be if he didn’t give in?

But has today been exceedingly trying for either of you?

Or is your mate quite amped up from a particularly rough trial?

You’ve been pestering him haven’t you? Hmmm.. yeah buckle up.

You’re in trouble and therefore need to relearn where your place is— it’s in your bed, beneath him losing your mind out of pleasure.

And he is all too happy to provide that lesson if you seem to forget.

You try to forget often. You damn brat.

Slow and Sensual

However sometimes he just wants to be gentle. And frankly so do you, you want to just bask in the bond you have and slowly explore all over again despite knowing you have memorized one another to heart by now.

Doesn’t matter, you still find things that surprise you, things that make you smile.

Places that when touched cause a jolt— well that’s new.

“I could spend my entire life mapping out your body carissima.”

“that’s an awful long time in bed.”

Aro would just smirk kissing down your sternum, “oh what a pity— I suppose my brothers shall have to cover for me hm?” Bite marks being pressed into your flesh, “I plan on leaving so many of these that I forget where they are so I can find them later.”

“Such an evil overlord.” But you’re giddy, he’s going to make your entire world tilt again with those slow careful hands of his and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

———

———

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’d be surprised that such a patient man could be so damn impatient for you.

He’s not as impatient as Caius but not AS patient as Marcus.

So it’s a toss up when he’s twitchy during trials and catches a glimpse of you floating down the hallway in all your grandure and he mentally tosses a coin.

Nope he can’t take it that flash of leg just set him off.

“Excuse me I do belive I remembered something that needs my attention.”

The others just inwardly roll their eyes.

Next thing you know you’re gagged by his tie in his office pinned over the desk with his teeth buried in your neck and frankly you expected this you wore that damn skirt with the slit in it to tease him.

Seeing this just makes him let out a feral noise and a laugh at the end, “oh you planned that hm?” He nibbles the outer shell of your ear, “missed me did you?”

You can only nod as he continues, eyes rolling back as he knows exactly what you’re needing and it’s certainly not gentle right now.

“I have exactly fifteen minutes before my brothers come looking for me— think you can be a good girl and make me come?”

You smirk against the gag in your mouth before purring at him; and it’s off to the races.

He’s in trouble quite often for this— but who’s to argue with him.

He’s king he can do what he wants…. At times….

Okay most of the time.

Plus he’s always in a MUCH better mood.

I wonder Why.

————

———

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

While Aro does love to experiment your safety is his utmost importance.

But he’s a curious bastard and you are right behind him on that scale so sometimes your games become a bit risky.

Never life threatening but oh boy do you two get a grin and just glance at one another, “you know we haven’t done that yet.”

“No…. No we haven’t….”

And that’s how it usually starts.

The worst thing you two can realize is you both utter “I don’t know”.

Well now you have to know if either of you are able to ahem— arrive— under rather dire circumstances such as utilizing your gift (don’t worry your gift doesn’t hurt him he knows how to use fire too surprise surprise.).

You almost had a heart attack though and nearly killed him after.

He just cackled that manic laugh that had you joining in after hitting him several times.

———

———

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Need I say more than one word?

Vampire.

Aro takes his time most occasions, his slow, slow sweet time.

Now— you’d THINK that the rougher encounters would last a shorter period.

You’re wrong.

So wrong.

He lives for it you’re going to be so happy you’re a vampire and can’t really get sore except for when you both leave cracking handprints on one another.

————

———

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sensory.

Crops, leather gloves, feathers, ben wa balls are huge and he likes that they are silent but give you that teasing sensation. Wax candle play is huge for both of you and you enjoy long luxurious heated baths and sauna sessions with one another.

Ooooo he loves it.

Leather gloves area huge thing for him but not for what you’d think— he likes to challenge himself.

Sure he can know what you’re feeling but he wants to be in tune with your physical responses as well and so occasionally he dons them just to test his knowledge.

Damn smug overlord is just as good and you hate it and now he’s smirking at you while popping his jaw with his hand on his elbow waiting for you to come back into your body.

“Shut up.” You rasp as your head spins.

“I didn’t say anything.” His raven hair slides across his face as he grins wider.

“Your SMUGNESS IS LOUD ARO.”

“Me?! Smug! Why I never…” -cue the dark chuckle before he starts it up all over again, “maybe once more to ensure you remember it’s not just the gifts edge hm?”

“Ohhhh I’m going to die.” But you reach for him biting his leather clad hands.

“No you won’t.” He hums happily, “I won’t let you. You’re not allowed to leave me bambi.”

————

————

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

HE IS SO DAMN UNFAIR.

But so are you.

He’s not as bad as Caius but he is close, and he only does it with LOOKS.

His eyes are utterly expressive, as is that mouth of his, so when he glances at you in just the right way you can feel it drop down in your gut and sizzle.

And he does it during trial. Oh but when you do it you’re in trouble. Psh.

He’ll tease you and brush your hand as he walks by just to know that you’re basically twitching from frustration at the end of the day and about to boil over as he leans down and licks your neck. “Bambi, awe, was I too mean to you? Hmm I should make it up to you shouldn’t I?”

He always makes it up to you.

The man has the best ways to use his mouth aside from running the coven and giving orders.

————

———

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aro was quite clear studies, and private rooms were to be soundproofed.

He’s loud, swearing (which he normally does not do), praising mess of a man, it’s needed.

And you love it.

You can practically feel the vibration in his chest when he purrs at you, less growling, he’s not as violent unless you get him too worked up.

No no no, he loves making you melt, and knows exactly what to croon at you to make your mind go blank.

———

———

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s more posessive than Marcus. And that bleeds into a protective nature.

A bit controlling, but he knows very well he can’t do that to you as he had to Sulprica. BUT it doesn’t stop him from trying as gods forbid anything happen to you.

Less Jealous than Caius.

But his ah— mood swings can cause for quite an interesting feat.

Since Marcus and Caius were always the brunt of the bashing and warfare, and he the brains behind the operation, many seem to think he has no bite marks on his body due to not being in the fray.

No.

The problem is Aro becomes too violent. Especially because of his talent when touching his victims it tends to become a frenzy. Once he had decimated an entire coven single handedly because the rage they had was swamping him.

His brothers had to pin him down and try to relay calm emotions— his sister Didyme thankfully had been the one to bring him back.

You yourself are now that calm place.

At one point, a guard had been careless enough to have thought about you in ah— that way— Aro was aware you were quite beautiful, your personality no nonsense and many of the guard and lower guard considered you a maternal figure almost otherwise a very good friend.

But this guard.

Ohhh he coveted. What was not his.

But what was worse, was that on the way to the throne room he had spoken to you rather crassly, you merely ignored him; he wasn’t even worth your time. But he had glanced you over as if you were a rather tasty morsel, the imaginings of you spread out beneath him had Aro’s hands cracking his wrists.

You saw the change slightly as you were behind him. His spine went poker straight. “You dare.” It was worse, the guard had actually tried to think of how to lure you away to him— you were a queen so surely infidelity was expected—

The rumble in his chest was a whole new sound you’d never even heard.

Both Marcus and Caius were sitting straight up and narrowing their gaze at Aro before Marcus flitted over and guided you to Aro’s throne placing you on it and standing protectively in front of you.

“Marcus?” you peered behind the eldest king and he hushed you gently.

The guard was torn apart in mere seconds.

It was utterly ruthless and with no mercy.

“People tend to forget Aro is only about a thousand years younger than I.” Marcus muttered.

You blinked. Aro was at least five thousand meaning that Marcus was Six, Caius being the youngest at three.

Aro speared the entire guard with a terrifyingly cold glare before flitting over to you, gripping your head back by your hair and sinking his teeth into your shoulder and neck with a low growl.

The sentiment was well understood as the entire guard backed the fuck away from the dais— he closed the wound before his head shot up and he snarled at the coven tucking you into his embrace your face buried into his robes. “She is mine.” It was a quiet, soft voice that spoke.

“Aro.” you muffled tugging his sleeve and looking up at him.

He showed you “what he had seen and tilted his head. Would you mind cara?”

You lit the bastard on fire with a scowl aimed at the body winding your arms about Aro’s waist and nuzzling into his solid form.

A soft kiss in your hair, his body relaxing. “That’s my bambi.”

———

———

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Aro although he is lithe and tall….he’s not exactly easy to handle.

9” decent width, knows how to use it.

Be forewarned, he knows what he’s doing.

Tactile Telepathy, good luck remember to keep your head on straight.

————

———

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s less of a wistful like of yearning.

And more a burning bonfire of desire always in the wing of his mind ready to take over the forefront.

One glance at you and he wants you— granted he thinks it might cool down over the centuries but when you look at him like that and bite your lip and grin.

Nah.

Nope. This isn’t going away. Not at all.

He of course has excellent control so he is able to push other desires to the back of his mind, but once finished you are certainly at the front of the line.

Super high.

You both are insane.

You can be sitting reading and next moment with one small brush you’re gone from the library and you’ve tackled him through the doors of your rooms and pinned him to the floor.

Insatiable.

Good luck!

————

———

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Aro LOVES resting with you.

He likes to just lay with his hands on your body and watching your thoughts, you’re his favorite mind to go through and he just adores it.

You both can spend hours like this if you were allowed—

He likes when you drag your fingers through his hair.

Makes him melt.

Kiss across his eyes and kiss his hands as he brushes your mouth with his fingers trying to learn you all over again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.” He murmurs to you lazily. He has you nestled in his arms your head tucked under his jaw.

“That’s fucking fine by me.” You giggle.

He rolls his eyes and huffs a soft laugh kissing the top of your head. “Of course she swears like a sailor…”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, blood, cutting, general hatred

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Today, we have more Loki then tomorrow more Zemo and some Sam on Saturday. I might add in some Andy Barber after that but keep plucking away at this and Candy Coated. Anyway, I’ll see you in the comments and the asks.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Hang me long out in the sun

💀💀💀

You sat against the wall, flinching every time you leaned too heavily on the radiator and burned your arm. You were certain Loki cranked the heat before he left as it was stolid and stifling in the large room. Sweat dripped down your body and mingled with the drying blood along your chest. You were uncomfortable but you didn’t want to get comfortable in this place.

You pulled on your wrist until your hand throbbed and the cuffs showed no sign of wear and the radiator didn’t budge. You stretched across the floor until you could reach the edge of the bookshelf and kicked until some books fell, hoping for some hidden pin or tool to pick the lock. There were only musty old books and dust.

You stood, tried to at least, bent over as you stretched your legs. You did awkward squats and extended your arms to your toes, one at least. You rolled your head on your neck so it cracked noisily and settled back against the wall. You were tired, exhausted, but too worked up to sleep.

It hit you all at once as the stench of smoke clung to your shirt and skin. Your shop was gone, your home, everything you worked for. It was another sick joke played on you by the town of Birch. 

Bucky was just another bully. He was like that boy in ninth grade who asked you to meet him at the park for a ‘date’ only to stand you up. You remembered the Monday after when he planted a stink bomb in your locker. The men around there were all the same. Everywhere if you were to judge by Loki.

You closed your eyes and thought of your dad. You thought he would’ve been proud to see everything you’d done; a shop of your own, a life where you didn’t have to worry. He said to you, through his dying lungs, that he knew you would be alright, that you could take care of yourself and Jerome. What about your brother then? Shouldn’t he take care of you too?

For the first time in a very long time, you wanted to cry. You kept your eyes shut to keep the tears locked in and slowly your mind eased. You sunk down as the warmth of the radiator embraced you, unbothered by the unyielding heat against your arm. You could hear yourself snore as you succumbed to your fatigue.

You were woken by the clatter of the door below. The old Victorian house echoed every noise and shuddered at every gale without. You lifted your head with a snort and sidled away from the radiator. Your arm was tender from the constant blaze of the radiator and you winced as you touched it. Fuck, it was burned.

You braced yourself as you listened to the slow ascent. You heard him behind the door and watched the knob turn. You sprawled out and slid a book closer with your foot. You got up and grabbed it quickly and stood in a hunch. You flung it at Loki as he entered but he quickly blocked the hardcover tome with the door.

He carefully peeked around the wood and stepped back in with a sigh. He shook his head as he crossed his arms and nodded as Korg appeared behind him. The bigger man placed the collection of shopping bags on the table and left with a dismissive sniff from his boss. The door closed and you were left to simmer alone with Loki.

“Such a warm welcome,” he strode to the table and tapped his fingertips on the wood, “and after I went to all the trouble of replacing your wardrobe. A pity all those wonderful pieces you had were lost.”

“I don’t want any of it,” you sneered, “leave me here, I don’t care.”

“Darling, while I find your resilience admirable it is also rather irksome,” he said, “and you will find that in the end, it will only make all this so much more difficult. You needn’t suffer anymore.”

“‘You needn’t suffer anymore,’” you mimicked him, “just listening to you talk is suffering.”

He turned his face down and clenched his jaw. He turned and reached into a bag. He pulled out a swath of black fabric that unfolded to an elegant dress with subtle black gems along the neckline like stars. You pushed your head back and stared at the ceiling.

“I can understand, a woman like you, men aren’t lining up to give you nice things,” he said, “I wouldn’t exactly call this giving, more… trading.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled as you closed your eyes again, “you know, you woke me up so why don’t you keep it down?”

“I did have to guess at the sizes,” he ignored you brusquely, “but I’ve always had a keen eye.”

“You can shove your dresses and whatever else you wasted your money on up your--”

“Darling,” he interrupted, “I will not warn you again. That lip does provoke me.”

You jutted your jaw out and exhaled. You bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees. You were too tired to argue with him. Hell, it only seemed to make you feel more helpless as you could not act on your anger. You hated that feeling. It remind you of that stupid teenage girl again; so gullible and weak.

“You cannot remain as you are,” he continued, “and I will not have a slobbish hick on my arm--”

“Jesus Christ, is your dick so small you can’t find another woman?” you hissed.

He was silent. You opened your eyes and hit your head on the wall as you were startled by how quick he moved. He pressed his knee to your chest and pinned you to the wall as he reached into his pocket and plucked out the silver key. He bent and unhooked the cuff from your wrist.

He caught your hand as you clawed at him and coughed as he pushed his knee harder against the cut between your tits. He tore you away from the wall suddenly and thrust you up to your feet. He twisted your arm behind you as he spun you and kicked your feet across the floor. You struggled with him but each time he bent your arm further up your back.

He pushed you onto the bed and straddled you as he angled you along the mattress. You flailed with your legs as he kept you trapped beneath his weight and released your arm. You reached out as he shifted above you and quickly snatched up your hands. He wrapped his long fingers around your wrists and snugly wound his tie in their place before he let go.

He backed off of you so that you laid across your stomach, your hands bound above your head to the bedpost. You rolled over as he marched away and returned just as quickly. He unfolded the razor with the mother-of-pearl handle and you dug your heels into the bed as you tried to free yourself from the silken tie.

He grabbed your leg and held it down. You brought your other knee up and he blocked it with his shoulder, “if you continue on like this, I might catch the artery.”

He held your leg down and pressed the edge of the blade to your thigh. You froze as he sliced into your skin and you grunted through your teeth. He traced a line down your leg and mirrored it on the other. He retreated and looked you over as you glanced down between your legs, the red lines dripping onto the blanket.

“What the fuck?” you yanked on the tie, “you’re fucking insane.”

“You haven’t any idea,” he held up the razor and admired the crimson along the silver, “but if you insist on this little dance, I should be inclined to go deeper.” He closed the razor and winked, “darling, you are looking rather rough,” he remarked, “but scars will not deter me.”

He spun and strode again to the bathroom. He returned and wiped his hands on a white towel and tossed it over the back of the chair. He sat and continued to sort through the bags.

“You think I’m afraid of you, you prick?” you snarled, “you think you’re going to win? When I get free, I’m going to take that blade and cut your dick--”

He stood and his hand formed a fist. He was atop you in a moment but before he could bring his hand to your throat, you bit down on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. He exclaimed and retracted his hand for just a second before he smacked you across the face. Your head snapped to the side and you held in a groan.

This time his hand stretched over your neck and he leaned over you. His hot breath whispered along your cheek and you shivered in disgust. 

“Oh, darling, this will be fun indeed,” he purred, “but I have no doubt that you will be prancing around in pretty little skirts for me before long,” he squeezed until you croaked, “you can even keep them on as I fuck you.”

“Go… to… hell,” you rasped.

He snickered and sat back on his heels with you straddled beneath him, “haven’t you realised? We’re already there.”

💀

You laid there for hours after Loki left you. Even though the mattress was preferable to the floor, you didn’t sleep. You stared at the ancient ceiling and cursed every inch of that place. 

Your thighs ached and that cut along your chest. Your arm was sore and raw each time it rubbed against your sleeve or the bed. You were more enraged than ever and you could hardly contain it and frustration had you kicking the mattress.

The windows were dark when he returned. He turned on the lamp beside you as the aroma of food tickled your stomach. You were desperately hungry but didn’t realise it until that moment. You salivated and gulped it down as he pulled up a chair and cradled the box in his lap.

“I’ve brought you dinner,” he said as he opened the cardboard container, “but… you have to use your manners, darling.”

“Get fucked,” you rolled onto your side so your back was to him.

“I can hear your stomach so let’s not pretend I believe you for a moment,” he taunted, “you will realise soon how weak you truly are.”

You didn’t say anything, nor did you move. You sneered at the wall as your arms strained above your head. He let out a long breath and then hummed in delight, “mmm, you know, this is not bad,” he commented, “your little diner has been the least disappointing aspect of this shithole.”

You gulped hungrily but refused to look back. He tapped his foot on the floor impatiently and sighed again.

“You would do yourself a favour if you did one for me,” he said, “say, if you accepted this generosity I might allow you another, perhaps a shower. Those cuts cannot remain unwashed.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you cut me,” you spat, “I don’t want anything from you and I definitely don’t want you. I’ll go live in the rubble, I don’t give a fuck.”

“You will,” he said as he stood and dragged the chair away, “but only you will pay for your stubbornness.”

💀

After another tussle, Loki relocated you once more to the radiator. He slept blissfully as you spent another restless night both sweating and shivering. When he woke, he offered you a bowl of instant oatmeal and you flipped it over. He tutted and went on with his day, leaving you again to stew in your wrath.

By the end of the day, your body rebelled with hunger and you accepted the bowl of soup he brought from The Chipped Saucer. You drank it from the paper cup but felt more rotten as it burned in your chest. He smirked as he watched you and you tossed the empty cup at him.

He scowled and you spent another night in cuffs. On the fourth day, he let you shower but kept you cuffed to the curtain bar for the ordeal. All modesty was gone as you were allowed only a plain white robe after and sat in the same spot, metal at your wrist, and wood at your back.

But you didn’t stop. You bit, you kicked, you hit, you swore, you screamed. A week passed and you wouldn’t accept it. You could see you were wearing on him and comforted yourself with the irritation in his sharp green eyes. You laughed at him outright and it stoked him further. He truly thought you’d never dealt with assholes before. You lived among them your whole life.

But that day when he came in, he was quiet though not sullen or angry. He was almost boasting as he still wore his new leather boots and dark parka. He tramped around and pulled out a mauve coloured dress, some satin and impractical undergarments, and a pair of heeled boots. He placed them calmly beside you but kept out of your reach.

He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. You shook your head at him and scoffed. He waited as you simply yawned into your palm.

“Don’t you want to go see your brother?” he asked.

“He can rot with the rest of you,” you hissed.

“So heartless,” he slithered, “but I shall relay the message to him, as hard as it may be.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you huffed.

“Well, darling, I don’t know if he should hear me or even if he could, that it would put him in a worse condition,” he mused.

“Worse condition?” you grimaced.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, my apologies,” he preened, “why yes, it seems he did have an unfortunate incident. Some suspect it was an attempt on his own life but you know how gossip is in a town so small--”

“What--” you bit down on your lip, “is he… is he okay?”

“Why, he is rotting just as you wished, yes?” he asked coyly.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Tell me he’s okay!” you tried to stand but were kept in a crouch by the cuffs.

“If you get dressed and behave, then you can see for yourself,” he said evenly, “or I will alone and hope that he survives his injuries… I wouldn’t expect the healthcare around here to be very adequate--”

“You fucking touch him--”

“What? You are wasting time, darling, and visiting hours will be over soon,” he warned.

You clenched your jaw and squinted at him. You swallowed your derision and blinked.

“Fine,” you said quietly, “I’ll… behave. Just take me to see him.”

“Good girl,” he came closer and knelt to grab your wrist, “but let me be clear, one misstep and you will never see him again. I should hate for him to die alone.”

“Just fucking undo me,” you snarled and his lips curved in triumph.

[miki-snake]

loading... The Other Brother

character selected: Osamu

played for: 2.8k words

A/N: So, this is my piece for the HQHQ SFW Collab, check out the work of all the other amazing writers and with that, I hope you enjoy it! 

It was planned to be a nice family dinner at Onigiri Miya. The restaurant was closed earlier that day so you and Osamu had enough time to prepare everything before the rest of the family would arrive. His parents, Atsumu, you, and Osamu, just a little get-together to catch up on everyone. It was a light mood at the dinner table, Atsumu was cracking jokes and his mother scolded him for his terrible table manners, while Osamu and his dad talked about the great development of his restaurant. 

His family, especially his father, were surely proud of Osamu to take the risk and reach for his dream. Since the beginning, they were all supportive of his decision to open up Onigiri Miya and you couldn’t be more happy and proud to be a part of this journey. 

You and Osamu were staying strong since the last year of high school when Osamu finally had the courage to come up to you with a homemade bento and the question if you’d like to be his girlfriend that he delivered with a light stutter and blushing cheeks. Of course, you said yes, you had a crush on the grey-haired Miya twin for over a year and everyone around you could feel the mutual, but oblivious pining the two of you had after each other. 

So when he asked you out you were ecstatic to finally call him yours. 

From then on, you two were an unmatched team. After high school, you followed your dreams while he continued down the road of being a chef in his own restaurant. 

 You were right at his side whenever he needed you, at his brightest moments but also when he was close to falling apart. 

As the night went on, the attention shifted over to Atsumu and his current life. He was part of Japan’s Olympic team and he just continued to gain prominence by other athletes and sports fans but especially by his female fans. Wherever he went it was like a hoard of ladies followed him and it was really scary to see how few boundaries these women knew. 

“You know Atsumu, if you’d stop going to the club every weekend, you might be able to use your free time to meet a proper woman out there.” That was what his mother would tell him almost every time they’d see each other. Somehow she was worried that Atsumu wouldn’t find the right person and well, you always had to laugh when the topic comes up. He’d get flustered and tries to change the topic but ultimately he’d fail. 

Miss Miya turned over to face you with a bright smile on her face.

“I’m really happy that Osamu got you by his side y/n.” 

Her eyes were shining with pride and you were sure that you had the same look on your face because you were proud to be Osamu’s girlfriend. You were proud of what he has achieved and how far you two have come. 

You loved him and there was never a day when you doubt your decision to be with him. 

“Yeah y/n, you’re a really good girlfriend for Osamu. If only I hadn’t pushed him to confess to you and asked you out myself.” Atsumu topped his words with a smirk and a wink but you knew that was all show to tease you. You and Atsumu had always been great friends, he was the goofball in the group and every time you’d have a good laugh with him. This situation was no different from the rest, so you just laughed about his comment, shaking your head no when he jokingly offered that it wasn’t too late to choose the “obviously better” twin. It was all taken with lighthearted laughter and you shoot back at him that you already were with the better twin. 

 And for you, it was simple as that, not that you could really compare the two twins like that but to you, it had always been only Osamu. 

It was a great night with the people that you adored, which is why you don’t know how only two days after the meeting, you ended up on the couch in your apartment, feeling like you’d fall right off the earth. 

“What did you just say?” You heard him perfectly fine but the words didn’t register in your brain. The shock was written all over your face, as your body reacted before your mind really knew what was going on.

“I said that I wanted us to break up.” Osamu’s face was wiped from any emotion, his voice strong and stern but you’ve been with him way too long to not hear the slight hesitance in his words. 

You frowned at him and wondered where this was coming from. 

You were already at home, the apartment that you and Osamu shared, waiting for him as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. When you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and the door opening with a creak, you got up to greet him. Right at the sight of him, you knew something was up, though you just assumed it was something at work. With a tug on his arm, you directed him to the couch where you sat down but he just stood there as if he was ready to turn around and leave again. 

I want us to break up. 

 He really said that but your mind couldn’t wrap around his words. It felt like your body was burning from the inside, you wanted to scream or to punch something. 

“Why?” In the end, it was all you could get out. Your voice sharp as a knife and if only you knew… if only you knew how it pierced through Osamu’s heart. Though what would it change if you knew, it wasn’t as if he didn’t just shatter yours. 

“Do I have to give you a reason? It’s not like I’d need you to accept that this is over.” His words were harsh, maybe even harsher than he intended. But in his mind it was the right thing to do, in his mind his hurt was much more than yours. That’s what you don’t know though, but what you knew was that you were enraged by his words. 

Your breathing picked up, nails digging holes into your palms as you stared at him with eyes full of disbelieve and anger. 

“Do you have to give me a reason? If you are really that slow then yes, yes you have to give me a reason Osamu. I have every right to know why you want to end things out of nowhere.” 

“I’m not asking you y/n, I am telling you that we’re done.” He seemed to get annoyed and his voice picked up in volume but you won’t back down. 

“Too bad Osamu, because it’s always two in a relationship and I am the second person in this one. So, I ask you again, why do you want to break up.”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Stop being childish!” You were beyond frustrated. He really thought he could get away with it by just telling you that you two were done? This wasn’t just a fling or a summer flirt, you two have been together for years and you won’t give up until he told you the truth. You knew him like no other and it was clear to you, in the way that he acted towards you that he was trying to hide something. 

And yes, Osamu just wanted to run away and not look back but he was rooted right in front of you just by the unforgiving look you gave him. 

“Oh, now I’m childish? What else am I huh? Tell me y/n, what else bothers you.”

 “What are you talking about? ‘Samu this has nothing to do with what bothers me because it is you that wants to break up with me!”

“Everything has to do with you y/n!” He yelled at you, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He was prepared for you to yell back at him but all you did was look at him confused while you patiently waited for him to continue. 

You knew there was more to it and you wouldn’t let him rest until you got to the very bottom of it. 

“Tell me y/n, what would you have done if Atsumu would’ve been the one who confessed to you.” You really didn’t expect this conversation to turn that way. 

“Why are you asking that? I don’t know, it didn’t happen.” 

“But what if?”

“What do you mean what if? It didn’t happen, so why does it matter when the situation never occurred?”

“It matters because now you’re with me.” He sounded exasperated, but to you, it was just ridiculous. Osamu was never one to worry about the past, always looking forward to achieving his dreams, so seeing him like this was… it was challenging. 

“Yes, I am with you. I am with you and I wouldn’t-“

“You’re with the other brother y/n, okay? That’s all I am right? Atsumu the shining sun and then there’s the other brother.” 

His words shocked you. 

 Never in the entire time of your relationship did he talk about that. He looked so vulnerable, so desperate and it hurt you to see him like that. The two of you had a lot of up and downs, many fights and disagreements but in the end, you always talked it out. When something was bothering him, he never hesitated to talk to you about it, so hearing this for the first time makes you wonder how long he’s felt that way. 

You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t come to you and you never thought you did. But no matter how worried you were, his next words hit you square in the face. 

“If Atsumu would’ve asked you back then, you probably wouldn’t be here.” 

When did you give him the impression that it was Atsumu that you loved? Sure, he played a big role in your life. He was one of your closest friends and the brother of the man you loved. He was the brother of the man you loved but not the man you loved. 

“When… when did you feel like I loved him and not you?” 

“I’m not blind, everyone can see the way you two smile at each other. You laugh at everything he says and your eyes are basically glued to him y/n.” 

“He makes me smile because we’re friends, but I’m not in love with the first person that I smile at.” You tried to reason with him but it didn’t seem like he’s listening to you. It was frustrating because what did he wanted to hear from you? You tell him every day how much you loved him, you’re always right by his side and you’ve always supported him so what is it that he wants?

“Don’t think I am dumb y/n. I am just a placeholder for you.”

Now that struck a nerve.

You know that his words were coming from a place of insecurities but that didn’t mean he could just say things without having to take the consequences. 

“A placeholder? Do you really think that lowly of me ‘Samu?” A bitter laugh escaped your lips, your eyes burning from the tears that started to well up. Never, from the day that you’ve met him, did you think he’d say something like that. Your heart was burning, lungs struggling to keep a steady breath. It was insane, everything must’ve turned upside down because this 

“So you think I am just a shallow person, using you so I could eventually get to Atsumu?” Your voice was getting louder with every word, your anger winning over the bone crushing hurt that you felt. 

“I tell you what Osamu, if I would’ve wanted to be with Atsumu I could’ve gotten there without playing around with you.” He flinched at your words and you know that you’ve hurt him, but you didn’t care. He started this so he has to be ready to take your words

“You don’t understand it y/n. You know what, I can’t even blame you because everyone loves Atsumu. He’s the golden boy, the rising athlete, the older brother that I’ve, even if we’re only a few minutes apart, looked up to. 

No matter where we went people always looked at him, smiled at him and wanted him.” You could see the tears in his eyes, the way his voice trembles and he bit on his lip to hold himself back. “They always chose him. I mean, I also chose him, I followed him around, did whatever he did but now our paths are changing and in the end, people still choose him first.” All this time he was avoiding your gaze, looked behind you at the wall but now his eyes were piercing right through your heart. The man in front of you, the one that you loved so dearly, he was broken into pieces. 

“But when will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?” It was one thing that he was questioning your love for him but for him to feel like no one would choose him? It broke you just as much because he no matter what he’d said, you loved him. 

You stepped closer to him, until you were nearly chest to chest. The warmth of his body was seeping through your skin and you desperately wanted to take him into your arms, but you couldn’t. You placed your right hand on his chest and you could feel how fast his heart was beating and somehow, in a familiar way you feel as if it synced with yours. 

“I don’t think you can ever really understand how much I love you. Because no matter how many times I tell you that I love you or what it is that I love about you, I know that in the back of your mind you will always question it. 

And I’m not going to lie, it hurts. It hurts knowing that no matter what I do, you will never let loose of those insecurities.” Tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

“But even then I will never stop to tell you how much I adore you. ‘Cause, what I feel for you is nothing but unconditional love. Do you know why it’s unconditional? Because I don’t expect anything in return. I don’t expect you to love me back or to do something to prove yourself. It’s unconditional because no matter what you’d give me and what not, I’d still love you. I would lie if I’d told you that I wouldn’t want to hear “I love you” from you. Though if you say it or not won’t change the way I feel for you. ”

His tears were trickling down his face and right onto you, both of you crying, not in each others arms but so close. 

“You got me hooked on you, the moment you walked through that door with that gorgeous and calm smile on your face. I knew there was no way back for me and no other respond than yes when you asked me out.“ And through the tears you still managed to smile, you smiled because of him. 

“But loving you unconditionally also means that I have to respect your decision to back out of this relationship. I’m not giving up on us without fighting, because 'Samu, I fought. I fought for us, bled and cried countless nights, hoping that this could work out whenever we had a fight.“

“I was- am ready to love you and help you to love yourself but I can’t help someone who doesn’t want me.  It hurts that I couldn’t give you what you wanted, what you so desperately needed. I hope that one day you’ll find that person who’ll give you that breathtaking feeling you gave me. Someone, who can make you feel loved because that’s what you deserve Osamu. You deserve to be someone’s first choice.”

Of course you weren’t giving up, but you were waiting. You would give him his chance to think and gather his thoughts but for now you needed to step back and that’s what you did.

With that, you stood up and gathered your belongings in your bag. You got ready to walk out of the door, walk out of his life. As always you wore your heart on your sleeve, you told him what you felt and not it was his time to decide. What was his first choice?

His pride and insecurities or you?

Paralyzed by his feelings and mind still pondering about your words, he just sat there staring into the blurry world. You chose him and he decided to end it. He knew that you’ be there waiting but not forever and so now it was his time to choose. 

[thewildomega]

Broken but not Shattered Ch7

Grabbing his money, he decided against his jumper and since it was warm out he even left off his tie but still brought his cloak just incase Y/n got cold. After locking his trunk he made his way up to the Great Hall where he told Y/n he would meet her. Getting there however he didn't see her and furrowed his brows. He was sure he had told her to meet him here at four sharp and it was just that time. Perhaps she was running a bit late or...

"Sev?"

Stopping he turned to his left at the sound of her voice and when his eyes met her he felt his breath catch in his throat. She was in a dress... an actual dress. If he was correct it was called a sundress style with thin straps on her shoulders. The black cotton was flowy, ending a little above her knees. Walking closer to her he swallowed hard at the amount of skin the dress allowed him to see.

He was just starring at you, silently. You knew it wasn't what other girls would consider a date worthy dress but your mother had made it for you and it was the best you had. You had hesitated putting it on while getting ready, never thinking you could pull off dresses and as he stood there staring at you, you were becoming even more self conscious. Licking your lips you bit your lip and looked down. "I..is this okay?"

"It is ah.... you are wearing a dress..."

Tilting your head you furrowed your brows a bit... "Well... y..yes you said we were going on a date so I... I thought..." When it all became to much you closed your eyes and turned on heel, "I'm going to go change..."

Hearing this snapped him out of his trance. Quickly grabbing her wrist he pulled her back to him. "No." Licking his lips he looked down at her and watched her look up to him. "I like it... You look beautiful."

Blushing deeply you saw him give you a small smile before he stepped back some and held out his arm for you to take. Returning his smile you felt him lead you out of the school and towards the village. The two of you spent the walk there talking about the upcoming exams, Severus asking you what things you thought you needed to study the most for and promising to practice with you on those things.

Seeing her smiling at him so softly he knit his brows, "What?" When she shook her head he pushed again, "Tell me."

"You are still treating me the same, you are still pushing me to succeed, even knowing what I am."

"Did you think I would not?" he asked with a raised brow.

Shrugging you looked down to the path. "Omegas are thought to be unintelligent. Most don't even think we are capable of having an education."

"Like who?"

Tilting your head you took a deep breath. "Well my grandfather for one. There isn't many people who know about me Sev, other than my parents and brother the only other people in my family that know are my mom's parents, not even my mom's siblings or my cousins know."

"And your grandfather does not approve of your education?"

"No, not really. He's never said it to me per say but I heard him talking about me when me and Flint were eavesdropping." Looking back up and over the land you felt a small clenching in your chest at the memories.  "He's old fashioned anyway, he doesn't think women should work, he hates that my mom helps my dad out at the bar but as for me... an omega... He thinks that I should have been kept at home, that I shouldn't have been allowed to go to school. I think he was partially worried about people finding out and the danger it would put me in and after Ilvermorny it just got worse but..."

"Wait, what happened to you at Ilvermorny?" She had told him before that she had had a problem with one of her teachers but that had been the end of it.

"I couldn't tell you the whole truth before, you understand that right?" Seeing him nod you gave a small grin before your free hand moved to your amulet. "There was a teacher, my Charms professor, Mr. Lyre.... I never really liked him all that much, no one did, he always made people feel uncomfortable..." Scrunching up your nose you shook your head. "Well last year I didn't have this Amulet to help me, I had to take this potion, this horrible, horrible potion."

"What potion?"

"I don't even think it has a name, all I know is that is was made to help repress all of the signs and traits of omegas. It's really old too. It isn't like this though, because this doesn't hurt, this doesn't make me feel like that made me feel." Knowing what he was about to ask you held on tighter to his arm. "Imagine if every time you felt excited or.. or  had a thought or feeling that was just one of your instincts you would instantly have it ripped away. Then you would be left with this emptiness this completely off feeling that made you feel nauseous." Shaking your head you looked away, "I don't even want to think about it, point is it just sucks. There is absolutely nothing good about it other than the fact that no one knows what I am.... not even sure I knew what I was half the time because it made me so delusional. I never took it during summer break or when I was home but when I went to school I had too."

He didn't like knowing his love was subjected to that. "So what happened?"

"In a nut shell he gave me detention because he thought I was faking when the potion was making me feel sick, an it did, all the time. I tried telling him that I needed to go to the medical wing but he wouldn't let me.... I knew it was the potion wearing off, I always got light headed when I needed to take another dose. I can't remember everything, I know I was sitting in his classroom, it was late and he was close, too close. I think I passed out at one point because the next thing I know I was....I was in his private chambers and then... then I was somewhere I didn't even know.. I found out later it was his home."

He felt his whole body turn tense at that, felt a growl rumble in his chest and his teeth clench together.

"I was crying, terrified. He knew what I was and he... he was an alpha. To him I was no longer his student I was an unclaimed omega.... When he went to... I screamed for my dad and I don't know how but he heard me... sensed that I needed him. He showed up and ripped Mr. Lyre off of me. I have never seen my dad like that, he was so enraged. They started fighting and I wanted to help but my dad told me to stay away...."

When she had to stop to take a break he said nothing, only continued holding her arm and watching her face.

"He was going to kill him, Mr. Lyre. He had threw this dust at my dad, right in his eyes and he couldn't see... I heard him begin to use that curse and I panicked."

Seeing her eyes looking down he frowned. There was a clenching in his heart again and he knew she was getting upset, that this was becoming hard. "Y/n..."

You wanted him to know, he was your alpha, the boy you loved, he deserved to know. Glancing around you saw no one  but still pulled him off of the path and over behind some trees. "You remember the other day at breakfast when you saw me light that letter on fire without using my wand, without even speaking?"

"Yes. You used wandless magic... it was amazing..."

Grinning you looked up to him. "Well it's a little more complex than that. Omegas are naturally frailer than both the other classes. Smaller, weaker but not defenseless. You see nature always has a way to try and level the playing field so Omegas have a better connection to certain elements... mine is fire." Holding up your hand you gave one last look around to make sure the both of you were truly alone before creating a ball of fire in your palm.

Looking at the flames in her hand he felt both his eyes go wide. Watching as she closed her hand to disperse the flame he looked up to her and saw her looking sad and guilt riven. Understanding now he opened and closed his mouth, "You... burnt him?" Seeing her nod but keep her eyes down he blinked. "How bad?"

"I was afraid and in pain... Scared. Before I knew what I was doing I had set the whole room on fire. My dad got me out of there and went back to Get Mr. Lyre but it was too late."

She had killed him... She had burnt him alive. Just staring at her he didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say at first.

"I..I didn't mean to.. I never intended for him to die, I just wanted to save my dad...."

Hear how shaky and soft her voice was along with feeling that clenching in his chest and seeing her shoulders curling up he quickly snapped into action. Wrapping his arm around her he pulled her to him and pet the back of her head as she laid her head on his chest. "Shhh. I understand, I know you would never hurt anyone on purpose." Feeling her nuzzle his chest he kissed the top of her head. The knowledge that that man had almost claimed her, that she had almost belonged to another made the alpha in him feel even more territorial.

Kissing her head again he took a deep breath before pulling away, placing his hand on the small of her back. Walking back onto the path he felt her lace her fingers with his and lean into his arm. Glancing down to her he felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards some, that warm feeling in his chest making him sigh softly. Nothing else was said as they made their way to Hogsmeade. She had seemed rather surprised to find out he was taking her to Madam Puddifoot's Tea shop. He himself had never been in the place but he had heard others talking about it being a ideal date spot.

Surprised by his choice you let him lead you to the grey stone building with the pink painted trim. Trying to see inside you saw the windows were all fogged up. Grinning up at him when he opened the door for you both to enter you felt your eyes go a bit wide at the inside of the place. It was so.... pink... frilly.

"Hello dears, pick any table you like."

Looking to the woman you gave a small grin and a nod before looking back up to Severus.

Inwardly groaning at how crowded it was he looked down to his female and sighed. Leading her over to the back table he heard as some of the other students whispered about the two of them both paid them no mind. They had been dealing with it for months now and while at first he was worried it would drive Y/n away from him, now that she was his claimed mate he no longer felt threatened.

Sitting in the chair when he pulled it out for you, you giggle lightly when his cheeks turned a bit pink at your comment of him being 'ever the gentleman'. Once he was sat in front of you noticed his shoulders still stiff looking and gave a smirk. "Wouldn't this style just look so cute all over a home?" Watching his eyes snap up from the menu to look at you, you managed to keep it together for a few seconds, the look of pure terror and disgust on his face too funny to pass up.

When she started laughing, her hand moving to cover her mouth in an attempt to not interrupt others he knew it had all been a jest and felt himself relax. "Our home will look absolutely nothing like this." he spoke as he looked back to the menu. When she remained quiet he glance back up to see her smiling softly at him before she looked down to her own menu.

'Our home.' The thought made you feel warm inside.

"Do you know what you would like?"

Quickly looking back up when Madam Puddifoot came over to take your order you glanced to Sev and then to her, "Um green tea please."

"And for you dear?"

She had ordered one of the cheapest teas. Licking his lips he looked down to the menu, calculating prices in his head. "Black tea and a slice of lemon cake."  

"Alright luvs it will be right up."

Once they were left alone he reached across to take her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with this thumb. "You never told me what your parents said... about us."

Tilting your head you grinned softly. "They weren't mad or anything... just kinda shocked... worried I guess."

"So they are okay with... with me?" he asked nervously.

"Well my mom said she is happy you are a Slytherin." you giggled and saw him grin some.

"And your father?" Noticing her biting her lip he felt doubt settling in.

"He.. ah... he had a few choice words that I will not repeat." Noticing him look down you gave his hand a squeeze. "He wants to meet you. They both do."

Snapping his eyes up he saw her serious. "They do?"

Nodding you smiled. "Yea, they invited you to come stay a week this summer.... if you want to that is."

Stunned he just blinked and then smiled. "Yes, that sounds great... so long as your father is not just getting me closer so he can kill me."

Laughing you saw him smile. "I'll be working at the bar of course but you can keep me company... maybe you can make Canyon leave me alone." you said with a roll of your eyes.

"Who is Canyon?"

"My brother's best friend. His little sister, Catalina, or Cat as we call her, is my brother's girlfriend. Don't get me wrong he's not a bad guy, he'd do anything for anyone he's just ahhh.. well you'll see."

Going to question more he snapped his mouth close when their order was being placed before them. Thanking the woman and paying he pushed small plate with the cake on it that she had placed before him across the table to his mate. Seeing her look up to him in confusion he only gave her a small grin and looked down to add cream to his tea, missing the way the Madam Puddifoot smiled at them.

Blinking you looked down to the cake and then up to him. Standing up you saw his eyes snap up and his brows dip. Scooting your chair over so that the two of you could sit beside each other you sat back down. Moving your tea in front of you while the cake plate was moved between you both so you could share you saw him look to you and gave him a small smile that he returned.

When a flash of light went off he stiffened. Seeing the beta woman standing there with a camera he went to question her when she was placing the picture she had taken on the table. With a simple wink she was walking away. Looking back to the picture as it finished developing he saw the both of them, the moving picture showing him looking up to her before the both of them were smiling at each other. Grinning he kissed the top of her head as she laid it on his shoulder. Cutting a piece of the cake with the fork he held it to her mouth.

................................

Running as fast as you could you heard one of the prefects yell for you to stop running but you paid him no mind. The clenching in your chest too strong for you to care about the rules. He needed you, your alpha needed you, you coudl feel it. Hurrying out of the halls and into the courtyard you made your way out into the grounds. Coming up on James and the others you saw them laughing and narrowed your eyes.

"Oh L/n you missed the show I am afraid, Could have saved you the disappointment." James laughed.

"What did you do? What did you do to him?" you growled.

"Well we just wanted to see what it was you saw in Snivellus that's all." Sirius chuckled..

Snapping your head to the right when another group of students started talking you heard them laughing about what James had done and when it finally clicked you felt that fire fill your veins. Without another thought you marched over to James and swung your fist through the air, landing a hard hit to his nose. Instantly your felt something in your hand crack but only bit down on your tongue, refusing to show them any weakness.

"AWHA!" Covering his nose with his hand he landed back on his ass in the grass.

"James!"

Feeling something wet cover his palm and leak from between his fingers he growled and glared up at the female from his cracked glasses. Pushing himself up to stand he hurried towards her.

"NO! NO! Put me down you asshole!" Thrashing in his hold you kicked your feet and tried wiggling out of his hold as he carried you somewhere.

Seeing his friend walking towards the lake he froze and furrowed his brows. "James... hey wait a minute." Sirius spoke.

"We tried to make you see, tried to give you the easy way out but you just continue to choose that pathetic worm. Well I'm done giving you a chance." The male spoke.

Understanding what he was going to do he felt his body clench up. "James no! Don't!"

Letting out a scream as you were thrown through the air you felt the shock as you landed in the cold water, your hip hitting one of the rocks hard. Shooting up you coughed up what little water had filled your airways and tried to swim towards shore. Grabbing hold of some of the rocks you felt your hand shoot with pain.

Looking down at the female he huffed out. "Go ahead, go to the future death eater but when he turns on you just like he did Evans don't expect us to take you in."  

"W..why the hell would I ever want anything to do with bullies like you. All of you, you call Severus pathetic but you are all the ones that seek out others to put down to make yourselves feel powerful. In my book that makes you the pathetic ones and none of you will ever amount to anything." Watching him raise his wand you braced yourself but nothing ever happened.

"James that's enough. Leave her alone." Sirius told his best friend in a voice that held no waver. Seeing James look to him he kept his stare until finally the male lowered his wand.

"Let her go." James scoffed in a low voice.

"I could say the same thing to you." Sirius countered. Seeing him roll his eyes but walk away he gave the small female in the water one last look, his chest clenching before he turned and walked back to the castle with his friends.

Standing up you tried to wring out your clothes and hair as much as possible Pulling out your wand you found it broken and closed your eyes, "Daddy's gonna kill me." Shoving it back in your pocket you started walking in search of the boy you loved. You wondered what James meant by Severus turning on you like he did Lily?

Finally finding him out by the tree the both of you always sat under you stopped when you heard soft crying coming from him. Rounding the tree you saw him curled up on it's roots, his knees pulled up to his chest with his face buried in his arms. Seeing his shoulders shaking you felt a clenching in your heart and slowly moved closer to him. "Sev?"

Swallowing hard when he heard the soft voice of his mate he kept his face hid away in his arms, not wanting her to see him like this. Pathetic loser. "Go away." When he felt her place a hand on his back he tensed. "I said go away Y/n."

Sitting on your knees in front of him you moved to hug him, trying to keep from getting him wet with your clothes.

"Are you deaf I said go away. I don't want you here."

Stifling your trembling lip at his hurtful words you stayed where you were, refusing to let his words send you away. He didn't mean it, you knew he didn't. He was hurting. They had done this, embarrassed him beyond belief. Made him feel so alone. But he wasn't and you wouldn't allow him to feel that way. No he would always have you and you would show him as much.

When she continued hugging him he felt more sobs break out, his whole body shaking. "Why will you not just leave me alone?"

"Because I love you and I won't ever leave you." Feeling him cry more but not tell you to leave again you kissed his head. Laying your head on his shoulder you just sat there, continuing to hold him, reassure him that you weren't going anywhere. You didn't know how long had passed, your knees were sore but you ignored it.

Sniffling he wiped his eyes before lifting his head some. Peeking up from his arms he saw her own eyes open some to look at him, those alluring blue eyes that he could stare into forever. Swallowing hard he blinked and then closed his eyes when she reached out to brush back his hair. She never seemed bothered by his 'greasy' locks, always touching it whenever she got the chance. "You are wet."

Kissing his temple you hummed.

"Why are you wet?"

"Doesn't matter." you told him with a shake of your head.

Sitting up he noticed she was indeed completely wet, soaked even. "Tell me..."

"I ah... went for a swim."

Growling he saw her shoulders curl up some and took hold of her hand but instantly released it when she let out a pained whimper. Knitting his brows he gently grabbed her hand and brought it in front of her so he coudl see and when he did he frowned. The left side of her right hand was colored in a bruise and the pinky finger knuckle was sitting oddly. It was broken for sure. "What happened?"

Looking away you tried to pull your hand away but he held your wrist in a strong grip.

"Y/n?"

"I fell..."

"Do. Not. Lie. To. Me." he grit out. "You are wet and your hand is broken, what happened?"

Letting out a deep breath you closed your eyes. "I punched James then he threw me into the lake." you mumbled.

Growling deeply he went to stand but felt her pull him back down.

Quickly nuzzling his neck you held him tightly. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him and as much as it frightened you, as much as the omega in you wanted to curl up and submit you wouldn't. You didn't want him to get in trouble because of you. "Don't bother with the likes of him. Don't drop to his level." you told your mate in a soft whisper.

Licking his lips he tried to push back these strong feelings inside of him. That Potter had humiliated him, made him so angry he had snapped at his best friend but what was even worse is that he had hurt his Y/n, he had hurt his omega. "I can not just let him get away with harming you."

Kissing his neck you breathed in his scent. "Yes you can because tomorrow it won't matter, tomorrow we are leaving and then it will be just us for a bit. And then in two more years we will be done with him and his heard of jackasses forever. Then it will be just us. Right?"

Taking a deep breath he pet her head. Brushing her wet hair back over her shoulder so he coudl stare at the proof that she was his forever. "Yes. Just us."

.................................

Grinning at the sad memory to the end of your fifth year you shivered a bit as the cold invaded your bones. Remembering that week of summer the both of you had had together though made the freezing of your limbs float to the back of your mind. He had been so worried, so nervous when you had taken him to your home. All which was for nothing as he was instantly accepted. Oh so many fond memories of that summer, A summer in which you wished you coudl go back to...

...............................

"And your parents know that Severus is coming do they not Y/n?" Dumbledore asked with a raised brow and saw the omega nod with a smile.

"Yes sir."

"Very well then." Leading the two teenagers to the open area he gave them both a smile. "A good summer to you both, we will see you both again soon." Going to turn away he remembered something and stopped. "Ah yes before I forget." Pulling it out of his robes he held the book out, "Here you are Severus. I will see what I else I can find over summer."

Taking the book he gave the headmaster a bow of his head. "Thank you Professor."

"Have a good summer as well sir." you told him. Walking towards the area where Dumbledore had led you both to you looked out to see the portkey there and smiled. Looking back to Severus you saw him looking to the thing with a raised brow. "What?"

"I know they can be anything but I was not expecting a rake."

Shrugging you gave him a grin. "Only thing Daddy had on hand at the time." Making sure your bag was tied tightly you looked to him and smiled, "Ready?"

"I have never traveled by portkey before."

Groaning you took his hand. "It's ah.... well let's just say I will be happy when I can Apparate. Now don't let go of my hand or the rake until we land okay?"  Seeing him nod you reached out to take the rake and saw him do the same thing before the both of you were off.

It felt like there was a hook in his stomach yanking him all around. Feeling his hand on Y/n being tugged as well he tightened his hold. All too soon though they were slamming into the ground and he heard her groan. "That was terrible."

"Agreed." you grumbled. Letting out a heavy sigh you felt Severus pulling you up to stand. Dropping the rake for now you looked around and smiled. You were home.

Looking all around them he saw green hills and mountains in the distance. There were tons of trees and he even noticed what looked to be some sort of water in the distance. Seeing a home a little ways away in a clearing of trees he grinned. Overall he thought it was a beautiful sight, refreshing. "This is your home?"

Nodding you smiled. "Yep, this is it." Pointing to the cabin through the trees you saw him look that way, "That was my dad's parents home and then a little ways down the drive there is where Cat and Canyon's home is."

"Everything is so.... open and fresh feeling." he said and saw her smile. When she offered her hand he took it and walked with her towards her home. The closer he got the more detail he was able to take in. It looked to be of the cabin style with walls made of wood and stone. It wasn't a mansion per say but it was of nice size with a barn in the back along with a small farm from what he could see. "You have animals?"

"Oh yea, chickens and ducks, goats, and pigs... a turkey maybe, if my dad hasn't killed the hateful thing that is. I'll show you around later. Oh wait a..."

Hearing her give a loud whistle he stood beside her and watched as large cat jumped onto the porch railing, the thing had grey colored fur with patches of black and white. "A kneazle. You have a kneazle."

"Mmmhmm. This is Skitz." You told him as your pet quickly moved over beside you to start rubbing up against your hand, asking to be petted. "I've had him since I was five."

Holding his hand out to the cat he heard a low growl come from it and quickly pulled his hand back.

"Um he doesn't really like men all too much, don't take it personally he doesn't even like my dad and he's the one who buys his food."

Hearing a loud banging he snapped his eyes over to the large garden and saw a gnome running around.

"You are supposed to be taking care of that you know?"

Seeing her looking down at the kneazle who only looked to her with a bored expression he chuckled when it finally hopped down to go chase after the pest. Looking at the porch he noticed a swing that had cushions on it. There were painted handprints by the door, one large one at the top that he knew had to be her father's. below that was another big one but smaller than the first, the next two little ones made him smile softly, the thought of a little y/n making it. Watching her open the door he saw her look back to him and hold out her hand. Taking it he walked with her into the home.

The cabin look carried on into the home with wood floors and beams along the ceiling. The outer walls showed the same material from outside, stone and wood logs, while the inner walls looked to be made of plaster and painted a cream color that went well with the other colors of the wood and stone. Seeing as the door entered into the living room he saw a large couch along with a recliner and two end tables that didn't match the coffee table. There was a rug under the furniture and many books lined the shelves along the back wall beside pictures and such.

"Come on I'll give you the tour and then show you where you will be staying."

Nodding he followed her, he found the rest of the home to be just as cozy as the living room. Once he had seen the kitchen, dining room and glanced down the hall to where her parents room was he followed her up the stairs that were built in around the fireplace. Getting to the second floor he saw her point to one room, telling him that was her brother's room.

"This is the second floor bathroom." you told him, pointing to the open door. "You will be staying in here. Sorry it's not that big...."

Walking into the room he found it about the same size as his bedroom back at Spinner's End but more homey looking. The bed looked to be a full size with navy blue bedding. There was a dresser in the corner and a window that looked out over the land. Seeing a door he guessed it went to the closet and grinned as he looked back to her. "It is wonderful. Your entire home is." Seeing her smile he thought of something and knit his brows some. "Where is your room though?"

"Oh it's the next one down after the hall closet." Seeing him raise his brow and turn to walk out into the hall you felt your face heat up. "Wait.... no... Sev you don't need to see my room."

Walking down to the last door on the floor he grabbed the knob and went to open it but was stopped by his female. "I thought you were giving me the tour, does that not include your room dearest?"

"No."

"And why is that? Are you hiding something from me?"

"No I just ah... well maybe.... no Severus..."

Wrapping his arm around her he opened the door with his free hand and moved inside the room. Stepping into the room he saw the inner walls painted black with white dots on them, noticing some of them he smiled, constellations. There was a round rug on the floor with a crescent moon on it. The vanity on the right wall he noticed was also painted black with the same starry design on it. Books were stacks here and there on shelves and on the nightstand laid sketch books and a set of charcoals. The bed however was not your normal bed. It was pushed into the back corner of the room and there appeared to be purple and blue sheets of fabric hung up around it to block it off from the rest of the room. There was something else about it as well...

Watching him walk closer to your 'bed' you bit your lip and rubbed your arm, embarrassment and nervousness filling you. Looking down you slowly followed him.

Tilting his head he looked inside the little cave to see many pillows and other blankets lining the outer perimeter of the bed with the center holding a soft silver blanket that looked kind of like fur and a black silk blanket. When he breathed in he was hit with a light scent of what he knew was his omega.

Seeing his brows slightly knit together as he took it all in you breathed in deeply. When he reached inside you felt your body tense. "Sev wait."

There was clear desperation in her voice, not like the embarrassed, playful one before. This time she was serious and he froze. Looking back to her he saw her curled up some, her lip bitten harshly between her teeth. Feeling that off sensation he pulled his hand back and straightened up. "Y/n... what is it?"

Looking back to your sanctuary and then to his chest you took a deep breath. "M...my nest."

"Your... nest?" he questioned and saw her nod but still not look up to him. "I.. I do not unders...." he started but the sound of a door opening made him snap his mouth shut.

".... I told you it wasn't going to work!.... Whatever let's just..."

"Hey is Y/n/n already here?"

"Good question. Y/n?!"

Hearing the deep voice of a male he knew that had to be her father and felt his throat go dry.

Seeing Severus's body tense up you held back your giggle and took his hand. "Coming daddy!" Pulling him towards the door you got up on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, "Relax they are going to love you."

Nodding because he didn't trust his voice he swallowed hard as they started making their way down the stairs.

Tag List: @once-upon-an-imagine​ @dope-shit-bro

[twsted-simp-writer]

Hello :3 May I request a scenario where g/n mc was transported through a mirror and landed on their older twin brother who was assumed went missing just months ago? Up to you of whoever characters are appropriate in this! Thank you :3

I kinda made reader a bit angsty(?) in here. Also added the family drama and stuff since reader's brother went missing like for long. I'm very sorry if this took long! >_< I hope it is up to your expectations. Thank you for the request!

Scenario: Your twin brother was presumed missing months ago. When you got transported through the mirror, you ended up landing atop of your brother.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Twin bond

Blaring sirens echoed throughout the neighborhood. After countless search with the help of your neighbors, friends and relatives, your twin brother, (B/N) was missing. Dreading in despair, your mother broke down crying as your father supported her, assuring your brother will soon be found, safe and sound. 

With the sudden disappearance of your twin, the mayor implemented the curfew for those ages 18 and below. They won't risk having another citizen disappeared or kidnapped again. Days have turned to weeks which eventually turned into months. There was still no sign of (B/N). Due to this, your mother became depressed as she would silently cry every night praying for (B/N) to return. Your father know how much his wife is feeling right now and always stayed by her side. The police had to put this case on hold for they have no other leads. 

Throwing the garbage bag into the bin out side, you overheard the police telling your father of the possibilities of (B/N) being dead and his body still missing. As expected, he was enraged. These people implying their son was dead and how they wanted to abandon this case. In the end, he drove them away.

You felt down and distraught for your parents. Why were they acting as if they lost their one and only child? You were also their child yet they only focused on him. It might have sounded like there is jealousy but the point is, they are acting like you were not there. You missed your brother... So much, it felt like half of you was forcibly taken away. Crying in your pillow until you fell asleep, missing his annoying voice and antics.

When a glass is full, it is bound to overflow. You couldn't take it anymore. They still have another child yet they're still acting like all their children died. Before you knew it, you were holding your aching cheek. Slowly raising your head, your mother's face was in front of you.

"How dare you...! Your brother is still missing and you're acting like you don't even care about him a bit!"

How you wanted to shout and snap her back to reality. They even dare to say you didn't care about your twin? Every day, every night, he'll always be on your mind wondering where he is. Was he alright? Is he eating properly? Wallowing in your dark room with thoughts of (B/N), the mirror in your room glowed. Wiping away the stray tears, the bright light greeted your sight as if beckoning you to come close. In daze, you carefully climb down your bed slowly making your way to the mirror with outstretched hand. Upon contact, the mirror grew hazy and your hand was being suck onto it. By the time your consciousness was back, you were already falling down a huge hole filled with floating furniture and other man-made things. Constantly bumping into them, it will certainly hurt. Reaching the bottom, you were once again swallowed by the bright light and landed atop of a person. A painful grunt below you accompanied by chorus of worried voices, you rub your eyes and take in where you are. 

"(Y/N)...?" A very painfully familiar voice spoke under you. That can't be... Is it really? Looking down, you saw your own identical face but this guy got your mother's eyes. Tears pricked your eyes and eventually fell onto his face. His eyes crinkled as tears also well up, smiling.  You both pull each other into a tight hug, quietly acknowledging each other's presence. But it had to be broken for there are audience around you.

"Look, look Jade! There are two shrimps." A tall guy with teal green hair with a longer part black streak, parting to the right. He has droopy heterochromatic eyes, was grinning down at you with sharp teeth. You recoil in reflex, getting close to your twin who lightly laughed and pulling you with him to stand.

"Oya? Is this your twin, (B/N)?" Another tall guy with teal green hair with a longer part black streak hair parting to the left, looks exactly as the other guy was smiling calmly. You realized these two were twins like you and your brother. Not only that, you were already in a different place. It looked like a under the sea themed jazzy bar. (B/N) pat your shoulder as he proudly introduce you to these two giants. Seeing your confused expression as you take in your surroundings, he whispered to your ear promising to explain everything.

"Why are you three just standing around here? Customers have just started piling up." A loud voice call out from behind you. A young man with grey-silver hair wearing glasses that framed his bluish-grey eyes approached your group. He wore a fancy suit and fedora like the tall twins. "Ah! Sorry about that, Azul." Your twin sheepishly rub the back of his head as he converse with the bespectacled male. "Hm? Another (B/N)...? Could this be (Y/N), your twin you always talk about?"

"Yes. Is it alright if my twin will stay me in the bar as I work?" The silver haired male pondered for a while as he glance between the two of you. Sighing, Azul pushed his glasses before crossing his arms, his expression serious. "I'll allow it. Just make sure your twin will not get into trouble."

You frowned at his words. It's not like you are a troublemaker, you yourself are behaved unlike your twin who basically get dragged into trouble. Chuckling at your expression, (B/N) reassure you that these guy are alright. But they're definitely not normal. Sitting at the barstool, you and your brother catch up talking whilst he does the drinks. You still have lots of question right now. What is this place? How did he get here? Why he disappeared that day? Your brother did promise you he'll explain everything. As you ponder to yourself, you didn’t notice Floyd was behind you until he spook you much to his amusement. 

“Ahaha~ Shrimpy’s face was so funny~!” (B/N) merely shook his head at the tall guy’s antics of scaring others. He hope you’ll be able to take in carefully once he explain that this world is very different from both of your home world and how the people here are similar to the Disney characters.

[taliaquinn]

Hamilton AU Part 2

lthI’m really glad to see that you guys loved the Hamilton AU. I really enjoyed seeing all the comments. Sorry for the inactivity I was super busy with getting readjusted and getting the proper amount of sleep. I hope I tagged Everyone if I didn't please feel free to comment here or direct message me. Here is the part two with a bigger presence of the Batfam. :)

“ItwasanecessarysacrificeitwasnecessaryItwasneededtosavemyreputationitwas-” repeating that mantra, Adrien slowly lifted his head from his hands to look over the newspapers, splattered all around his desk. All the headlines glaring at him in bold black print.

SHOCKING: Details Of Adrien Agreste’s Affair Revealed

FASHION INDUSTRY IN CHAOS FOLLOWING ADRIEN AGRESTE ADMITTING AN AFFAIR WITH BRULER INDUSTRIES SECRETARY LILA ROSSI 

‘OH YES HE WOULD STAY WHENEVER HE COULD ESCAPE HIS WIFE” ALLEGED MISTRESS LILA ROSSI STATES

MARINETTE AGRESTE IN TATTERS FOLLOWING BOMBSHELL AFFAIR ALLEGATIONS

Adrien couldn’t help but flinch at that specific headline. 

Marinette would forgive him. She was head-over-heels in love with him plus she had to forgive him for the sake of Emma, Louis, and Hugo.

 He quickly turned and focused on the only headline that mattered.

ADRIEN AGRESTE CLEARED OF ANY FINANCIAL WRONGDOING BY FRENCH INVESTIGATORS

Oh god, he couldn't believe he had let it get that far. He should’ve released the video much earlier before any charges were made public.

How dare they try to frame him. Everyone knew he always did everything in his life perfectly, efficiently, and legally. 

That lowly Bruler Board Member trying to extort him of all people. Then have the nerve to accuse him of embezzlement just so they could avoid jail time.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the big framed picture of his and Marinette's wedding. Marinette beaming with joy, her arm wrapped around Adrien's. 

She looked beautiful that day. No matter what, seeing that picture of her in her wedding dress always managed to take his breath away.

She’ll forgive him. Especially once she knows why Adrien had to take extreme measures. 

He threw most of the Newspapers away keeping only that one that cleared him on any legal wrongdoing. 

He sat down actively trying to ignore the pings from his cellphone. Before finally reaching over and shutting it off. 

He leaned back and thought back to that fateful day that changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien was just walking out of a meeting with the CEO of Bruler Industries when he felt hands wrap around his arm. He shifted to politely ask them to let him go before he was staring at familiar green eyes.

”Oh!?” Adrien is that you?” Lila squealed. Grasping his arm even tighter.

“Lila? It's been so long since I last saw you” he exclaimed awkwardly trying to get his arm released from the Italian grip.

“Far too Long” Lila cried wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He quickly returned the hug. finally breaking it off, after an oddly long time, before walking towards the elevator together

” What are you doing here? Are you working on a Charity collaboration with Bruler Industries?” He asked, he couldn't help but notice Lilas employee id.

“Huh- OH UHM no actually I work here now” She let out quickly taking off her ID and stashing it into her pocket “I got offered a job here once they saw the way I ran one of my charities, They practically begged me to come work for them as a secretary and help them with Organizing” 

“Wow, that's amazing” He breathed out stepping onto the elevator with her following closely behind “What a coincidence that we managed to run into each other”

“Sure is” Ha. As if.

Lila had been seeing the Articles written about the “power couple”. Adrien and Marinette. She seethed with jealousy every time an article would appear, praising her work, her charity, and her kindness. 

That should’ve been Lila, she should've been the other half of the power couple. She should’ve been the “beloved beautiful Mrs.Agreste.”

This is why she was ecstatic and thrilled when she saw Adrien scheduled for a Meeting with Bruler Industries CEO on the schedule that Assistant Secretaries received each day.  She could barely manage to qualify for her job as an assistant secretary to a lower executive, she could only dream of being the CEO’s secretary.

Reading articles and watching videos  Lila realized that she wasn’t the only one Jealous of Marinette. Adrien was too. Through the quick glances thrown in his wife's direction or the flickers of annoyance on his face every time Marinette's fans approached her on the streets, who would practically ignore Adrien. 

Lila knew it was jealousy. She after all felt it too.

The baker girl surpassed Lila. That enraged her to no end. She was determined to change all of that.

This is why she had to sneak her way onto the top floor barely in time so she could  “run” into Adrien. Which was successful.

Shaking back to reality Lila couldn't help but give a quick glance at Adrien next to her in the Elevator, she realized that she had stumbled upon a crucial piece of knowledge that would give her everything she wanted.

 There was no way she could let Adrien leave….at least without her.

Lila practically dragged Adrien towards a “close” cafe that just so happened to have an intimate theme. Lila ordered coffee for them both and quickly delved into all her “adventures” she “had” since leaving lycee. Totally false but attention-grabbing as apparent by Adrien's intense concentration on Lila and her adventures. 

Lila knew that she didn’t have to worry about Marinette interrupting their little meet-up. She was away. Lila knew this. She saw the news report about Marinette and Her kids landing in Gotham in a private jet. 

Adrien was obviously unhappy at the fact that his family was in the States without him for all of the summer. They had to stay in the States for all of the summer because of Marinette. She was a Wayne so she was required to go to the annual Wayne Gala.

 Meanwhile, he stayed behind to take care of the Agreste company, fighting to make it even greater, Maintain the image of perfection. He even had the hope that someday it would be able to join Wayne corporations. Until then the Agreste Mansión was empty. 

For now.   

Lila wasn’t blind she could see the jealousy written on Adrien's face when the topic shifted to his wife. Marinette Wayne-Agreste. beautiful, talented, intelligent, business owner and mother of three. 

Plus her parents were Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Corporations, along with Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain who were world-renowned bakers.

 Marinette was the envy of all, including her husband. 

She reached out and took Adrien's hands into her own. “Oh Adrien just know that you are sooo kind,” putting on a mask of fake worry she continued “I could only wonder how much you worry about her cheating on you, I mean Marinette does go on abroad trips on a daily basis and men practically trip over themselves to talk to her, who knows what goes on when you're not around” 

She felt Adrien's hands tighten their grip around her. Lila flashed a triumphant smile before quickly placing a mask of concern over it. If everything went on according to plan soon she might find herself as the new Mrs.Agreste. Soon they both stood up and Adrien offered to walk her home and pay. “ Adrien you are too kind” Lila giggled out. 

Oh, Adrien was feeling pleased with being the center of attention, and Lila didn’t even have to milk it that much. After all, He offered to walk her home she didn't even need to ask.

“Oh Adrien it was so much fun talking and chatting again” Lila cooed, batting her eyelashes at him while clutching at his arm. Very reminiscent of their highschool days. Far too soon for Lilas liking they arrived at her hotel.

“Well I should head back home,” He said sheepishly standing inside the hotel lobby.

 Lila knew she had one shot. Quickly she flung at Adrien and clasped her hands around her upper arm. “Stay” She pleaded “We haven’t talked in so long, it's too soon for you to go”. 

Adrien let out a sigh and saw the hopeful and pleading look in her eyes. Marinette's smiling face flashed in front of him for a sec. But he quickly brushed it aside. Talking to Lila had been such an eye-opening, refreshing experience. Marinette's face flashed once again before Adrien angrily pushed away from the image.

 Like Lila said, who knew what Marinette was up to on her trips abroad in Gotham? She probably stayed in her friend's hotel room all the time to talk. Plus He was weak and tired from the long weekend; it surely wouldn’t hurt to stay and chat for a few hours with Lila. 

Making up his mind He allowed himself to be led up the hotel stairs. 

Lila Quickly led him to her hotel room and opened the door. Adrien without batting an eyelash stepped inside. The door shutting behind him

Unbeknownst to a happy Marinette in Gotham surrounded by her brothers, sister, father, and children the perfect storm has just been created and its name was Lila Rossi

Anyways that's a wrap. I used the tax Evasion accusation since thats similar to what Alexander Hamilton was accused of. Wonder what's coming next >:)

Don't forget to like, reblog and comment, I really look forward to reading your comments since they bring me so much joy. Also if I missed tagging you please just comment again. Apologies :)

Stay Safe and Healthy 

S/o to @mikantsume for noticing the Custody thing. Hope this answers your question.

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and Comment <3

Taglist:

@purplesundaze @silvergold-swirl @k-poplunardreams @pepelachanel @laurcad123 @maribat-is-lifeblood @kass-is-weird @another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochinek0 @shamefullove @mochegato @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @aestheticnpoetic @flufflepuffle296@mysupporthyperfixations @itsmeevie01 @jeminiikrystal @iglowinggemma28 @whydoexamsexist @kuroko26 @animalgirl05 @susiej1118 @damianthebratboy @ccwkm6967 @valyui901601  @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @tazanna-blythe @rebecarojas07 @moonlightstar64 @chylou34 @thecrazyfantrolls @iamablinkmarvelarmy  @boldlydecadentkitty @thornalchemist23 @tazanna-blythe @blackmagicforever @blueboobutterfly @sharingiscaringapparently @starlightshield @mikantsume 

[laurore-stormwitch]

Post rule of wolves, about Zoya and Nikolai being soft with each other in one of the many moment of hardship they face. Zoya gets a letter that unsettles her and leans on Nikolai to face more of her demons and move on. I love how Zoya is slowly learning to open up and face her wounds, and how Nikolai is there to catch her. Feedback are always appreciated, so much love to you all 

the blood in our veins - ao3

When the sound of leaves crunching under someone’s steps reached her, Zoya did not startle. She knew Nikolai would appear at some point, as he always did, as if he could sense her despair. Or as if someone played the snitch on my escape, more likely. He was the only one to have the key, beside her, and the only one to know she would take refuge here. For a moment, she lingered on what a strange sight she was making; a steel spined harpy perched amongst the wildflowers, her kefta smeared by dirt and pollen, her eyes trained on the ground and a sprout in her hands. She felt his intense gaze on her, his worry. The scent of his skin; Nikolai always tasted like salt and sunburnt skin, like the sea. 

“Who ratted me out?”, she asked. He lowered himself toward her, brushing a kiss on her head before kneeling beside her on the ground. 

“Tamar”, he answered, “told me you got a letter and dismissed the meeting.” More like run away from it. She would have to thank Tamar for her regard. 

Zoya clicked her tongue. A letter. Her hand went in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Nikolai. She sensed his concern turn into outrage. Zoya knew it was a matter of time before Sabina reached out to her. After all, her daughter had just become the queen of Ravka. There was no hope left in her heart that her estranged mother would not try to exploit this particular advantage. As long as she was not dead, she supposed. Which, as far as she knew of, could very well be. As it turned out Sabina was not the one Zoya should have been wondering about.

“It’s a long list of arrogant pleading. Get to the end”, she instructed Nikolai. Zoya glanced at him and saw him shook his head with a sigh when he came to the last lines. 

“Zoya – “, he tried, his tone insecure, weary of what was the right thing to say. Was there a right thing to say when you lost a father you had already wiped from your mind? The word lost probably was not even fit for the situation. 

“He’s been dead a couple of years, apparently. She did not even bother to say how.”

There was no grief left inside her to tug at. No sentiment to pull and mourn over. Nothing left for them, for him. There was just a void lurking next to the well inside her, in which so many stones had tumbled. It was not endless anymore; it stopped right beside her, where Nikolai’s light flooded in through the cracks in her walls. Zoya tried to look for something to hold on to, something to guide her over this empty sea of nothingness. No love, no regret, no pain. The sorrow in the well had always been for Lilyiana, for Lada. For David, for the Grisha, maybe even for herself. A monument to her solitude. None of it was dedicated to the two young people who had given her breath. Yet she felt the void, like it had form and claws that pierced at her heart. Its fingers tied around her throat, squeezed the air out of her lungs. 

“I thought maybe I should plant something for him, too. I – I don’t know.” 

She murmured. Her voice came out more frail than she had desired to, more vulnerable. Nikolai moved closer, his shoulder brushing on hers. She grasped at that touch that anchored her on this moment, that prevented her from losing herself. 

“I don’t know what the Suli ritual is.” The defeat in her tone sparked a flicker of injustice. It was supposed to have been over; the child that did not look back on a wretched church was supposed to have grown. Such restless waters she had had to navigate. How does one separate hatred from fear, love from abandonment, rage from regret? 

“We could find out.”

“There’s no time. There’s no time anymore.” To know him. To understand. To take the child in her hand and protect her in an embrace. Faintly, in the distance, Zoya felt Nikolai’s hand on her back, his lips landing again on her cheek. 

“Why did you choose this?”, he asked, bobbing his chin at the sprout she was holding, at his light blue blossoms.

“I’m not sure”, she sighed. “When I was very little, there was always a glass of forget-me-nots on the kitchen table. My father used to bring them from the fields at sundown. He stopped before my sixth birthday.”

Zoya never knew what they meant. Her mother told her they were the colour of their eyes, weaving them in her hair. She had felt like a princess in a fairytale, with a crown of blossoms.

“Inej told me the Suli have a saying about love. Her father says that you would know a boy truly loves you when he brings you your favourite flowers. I figured that is why our house was full of them, at first. Maybe these are for both of them. Maybe I should bury my mother too.”

What a sombre, depressing thought, she half expected Nikolai to say. Instead, he just reached for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her in silence. So she forced another sentence out, one that stung to admit. “I thought I did that already the moment I set foot in the Little Palace. I thought they could float away like a river in the sea, instead I just built a dam that feels dangerously close to shatter.”

The quiet stretched on. “I don’t know what they are”, Nikolai admitted. “Your favourite flowers. I don’t know them.”

She moved her gaze to him and wondered what he was seeing. If he had already grown tired of her, of her dark moods and brooding tendencies. Those fears clutched her heart on her worst nights. Was he catching the sheer sentiment in her eyes, the fire that burned for him inside her? How she grasped at his voice like it was the thread that tied her to safety, to belonging? Whatever her failings were, Nikolai’s look never wavered. His certainty, affection. He was the one keeping the dam from falling, keeping her from breaking. 

“You told me once I could be branches without blossoms and wait for the summer to come. The way you love…it’s not the fleeting beauty of petals. It’s the strength of roots.”

She spoke before having the chance to think about her words, not sure what she had wanted to convey, pressed by an unfamiliar urge to let him know. Saints, Nikolai was rubbing off on her. His eyes sparkled and he looked taken aback, a fond and surprised smile tugging at his lips. Zoya let his warmth creep into her, before moving back to look at the flowers still resting in her hands. 

“I don’t have a favourite one. I like them all.” 

Nikolai nodded, his fingers lingering in her hair, brushing through them. “Good to know. See? You are not such a difficult person after all.” Zoya heard him move beside her, sensed his fingers draw away. He gently pulled the plant in front of her. “Let me do it for you”, his voice soft, caring. Let me carry this weight for you. Her hands dug into her kefta, clinging into it as if it could make her remember who she was.

Nikolai pulled his gloves away.  She snatched them from him, huffing impatiently. It really was an unnerving habit of his. “Would you stop with these? You do not need them around me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Don’t take it out on my gloves”, he grinned at her. Yet, she caught the shadow sweeping through his eyes; the darkness Zoya had never wanted him to hide. He worked in silence, moving the terrain away, placing the sprouts and watering them. Zoya stood still, one hand clung to her kefta, the other tightened around his gloves, watching him as he took care of her garden for her. 

“My mother was loud”, she said abruptly. Water leaking from the cracks. Nikolai’s gaze swept toward her as he kept going. There was no other person she could tell this to. Stories needed to be told, She had learned. “Sabina kicked and screamed her way into our misery. She shouted her wrath; she broke the ceramics on the floors, spewing spite. She weaved sweet lies that stuck like sap into my ears, before wiping my tears as I stood in a ridiculous ruffled dress.” Zoya sighed, seeing her memories flash in her mind. She did not want to feel this. She did not want to know. But Juris’ wisdom was unforgiving. “Her frustration, her selfishness. Everything was like thunder. Maybe that’s where I take it from.” A dry laugh escaped her lips, as she forced herself to say what she knew had been the truth this whole time. “My mother was loud. Yet, it was my father’s silence that broke me. That was what carved the hole inside of me. The way he let everything happen, his head slumped on his shoulders, his mouth shut. The emptiness of his affection. It gave me the guilt of not being enough, of not being worthy.”

Zoya kept going, averting Nikolai’s eyes. “Yelling is easy to counter. It enrages you, fires you up, picks at your pride. Silence is different; it cuts you slowly, drains your blood drop by drop, renders you powerless. How do you fight a wall made of nothing?”

His gentle touch moved to her jaw, tracing the lines of her face, grounding her to earth. 

“I feel it. I can see it.” Every word she got out seemed to force a split into the void. Warmth flood in, rage went out, passing through her like a blade. The dragon's eyes had opened, whether she had wanted it or not. She felt like drowning. “How unprepared they were. How powerless. The hatred that grew around their souls like thorn wood. It’s the same they have set upon me. I do not want that. I do not want this to be their legacy for me.”

Legacy. What was hers, in this life, and what was theirs? Zoya had Sabina’s eyes, Suhm’s wavy black hair. It gave her comfort to think her pride and her strength came from Lilyiana. Her wind and lightning was born from the making at the heart of the world. What, then? What had they been like, when they were just a boy and a girl in love, dancing under the moonlight? She had shrugged her name as if she could be born anew. Tossed the memories of them as if she could build a new life. That she supposed she had done, at least. Even with this new name, this new life, something of them still remained. The poisoned blood in her veins if nothing else. She could not cut them open and change it, and she had spent her life feeling it flow like a curse through her. 

“I cannot go on hating them.” The words were spoken as a shameful confession, as a defeat. As a realization too, however. Nikolai laced their fingers together, making her relent the hold on the kefta.

“Perhaps we should not hate them”, he said, careful and gentle. “Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.” 

Zoya shook her head at Nikolai’s relentless goodwill and optimism. He had forgiven his mother that day in Os Kervo. He had forgiven the one who was not his father, he had delivered his punishment and moved on. And Zoya? She did not have any forgiveness left in her. The hatred, though. Whatever remained of it, she guessed she could try and leave it here, with the blue blossoms thriving from the earth like forgotten hope. 

Their legacy might have been just thorns, storms, and thunders. It might have been just the spite that had threatened to rot her insides. Still, it was an inheritance she could find the strength to relent. She could keep their eyes, their blood, Sabina combing her hair and Suhm telling her a goodnight story in his arms, even if she did not miss it, even if she did not remember what that felt like. Zoya was not Nikolai, she was not golden nor kind. She could not justify their weakness; she could not pardon both the screams and the silence. Maybe you could let go, though. She wasn’t sure if it was Juris’ voice or her own to cut through the mist of thoughts. Zoya bleeding in the snow. Zoya crying on her own. Let go.

The dam had broken, but the dragon queen did not drown. Hours could have passed, or minutes. Nikolai had put his jacket on her shoulders, the fabric thick and warm. He had not spoken anymore, just sat with her in the quiet as the sun disappeared. At some point, when the chill had started creeping in her bones, he had tugged her up and walked her to her chambers, dismissing the Heartrender twins who stood guard on her door with a wave of his hand. Zoya had let him handle her, leaning in his touch. Only when the lock clicked, she had let herself release her breath, slumping in her favourite velvet sofa. The crackle of the fire was comforting. Nikolai had called for tea, murmured something in her ear she did not remember. He had sat on her desk next to her, working through some documents while she got back to herself. The familiar rhythm of their quiet caught on, enveloping the room, soothing as a cold cloth on an open wound.

Time did not matter anymore. Zoya had the cup in her hands, the fire in front of her, and Nikolai’s jacket still curled around her. His scent was tight on the fabric. It lulled her into a silent calm, along with the rhythmic pounding of her heart, the sound of Nikolai’s pen scraping the paper, of his hands scribbling, the muffled huff of his breath. Peace washed over her in a tide. 

“What is it like?” 

Zoya suddenly spoke, after what felt like an eternity. The tea had turned cold. She kept her look trained on the fire. Nikolai stilled, relenting whatever piece of work he was doing, arching a brow at her. The question was vague, at the very best. “Not being an only child”, she added. Now his attention peaked on her. 

He shuffled back the papers on her desk, got up and came to her. Moving her feet away, he eased himself on her sofa, letting Zoya stretch her legs over him, resting his hands on her calves and leaning his head on a cushion. His careful look never left her face, turned thoughtful as her question travelled his mind. 

“I adored my brother”, Nikolai started, slowly, “Worshipped him. Loved him with every fibre of my being. Until I did not anymore. We were not bound, or tight, and well – we all know how that turned out. It was an embarrassment and a weight, more than an anchor like I desired him to be. And I did desire that a lot.”

Zoya looked at him. She left the cup on the nightstand; as soon as her hands were free, Nikolai snatched one of them in his. “And Linnea?”, she asked. An affectionate smile curled his lips. 

“Linnea is…different. I feel the kinship – and not just because we both have a soft heart for ships. I know she is me, for some part, and I am her. She’s more grounded than me, more quiet, more practical.” He brushed a thumb over her palm, tightening the hold. “I guess that’s why she likes you. I am quite scared at how much you two get along, frankly. And she has this creative, restless energy, she is charming in her own silent way, brilliant. Sometimes it’s like I’m looking inside some sort of distorted mirror. In some life I may have had if I took a different path.” 

Yet, the choices they had been forced to make forged a solitary childhood for them. A lonely boy looking for sounds to fill his deafening silence, a vengeful girl screaming her rage over lost love. Had they been choices at all? When had they stopped being their parents’ sins, and had they become their own? How long can you blame a mother’s failings, how long can a daughter or a son be defined by rage and guilt? Zoya could see the same query behind Nikolai’s eyes. He spoke again, tentative, a vulnerable edge to his voice. The lonely boy, looking for hope in the vengeful girl. 

“I want her to know me. I want her to care for me, to be honest. I feel protective of her. I feel like I cannot wait to show her every wonder I know of. The wonder of life, of adventure. The wonder of romance”, he managed to wink at her, “I wish to be for her the brother Vasily never was for me. To make up for lost time. This is idiotic, right?” 

He huffed at the end, as if he could dismiss the intense desire for a family that still haunted him; there was a slight plea in his look, darkened under the dim light of the fire. Zoya felt an ache in her throat, and she knew there were tears in her eyes. She could feel them clouding her sight. They belonged to the little raven-haired child that silently cried alone in a corner, in all her nightmares. It was not a cry for grief, but one of deluded wanting. She leaned in, brushing some golden strands from Nikolai’s face. He was looking at her like she was his light in the storm, even though he had just been the one to pull her back from a devouring pain. 

“We should have her here more often”, she said. Nikolai wiped one of her tears away. “We should have them here more often. Linnea and your father. You deserve to have this family, Nikolai.” 

Nikolai stopped his hand on her neck, grinning wider at her. 

“Zoya, I already have one.” She frowned at him.

“I hardly count as a family. I am just me.”

“Then I’ll have two. So long as you stop referring to yourself as just you.” Zoya rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. He started fidgeting with a loose silver bead on her kefta’s cuff. Another unnerving habit of his, the way he always snatched those away. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I wasn’t an only child. I would have had someone to shield and someone to shelter in. To give me purpose, I suppose.”

A little brother, a little sister whom she could watch grow up and think how much better than her they were, how much softer, how much worth preserving. Though it had not been like that, for Sabina and Lilyiana. It was best not to linger on what ifs. She huffed and shifted, suddenly nervous; time to face this problem head on. “You think I should help her, right?”, she asked, knowing damn well what the answer was. Needless to say, Sabina’s letter pleaded for Zoya’s support, lamenting her misfortunes, and praising her daughter’s victories. Especially the gifts she could share. Even if she had not stated it, Zoya was sure that a jewel or two would be just fine. Greedy and hollow like she remembered. 

“I think you should do what makes you comfortable.” Zoya shot him a threatening glare, and he chuckled. “Fine”, Nikolai added, “but don’t kill me. I think you’ll keep the weight on your chest as long as you do not help her. I think maybe it would bring you some peace to do it. Still, I support whatever decision you make.” He marked the last words, and she knew he meant it. 

“I don’t want to be the bearer of my mother’s misery.” Zoya despised herself a little while admitting it. An exasperated grunt erupted from her as she threw her hands in the air. “How can I feel responsible for her?”

“I guess that’s the curse of being a daughter. You can’t relent the blood in your veins, not anymore that you can ignore the good heart that thrived inside you behind all of your spite.”

Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.

How she loathed when Nikolai was right. It made him insufferable. And unfortunately, he was right most of the time. Unbearably reasonable. He smirked, as if he could read her thoughts and sense his victory.

Zoya might have been an angry and unloved little thing, but that was not what she was anymore. She had been a soldier, a general, a loyal friend. She was a queen now. And most certainly not alone, she thought, gazing at the confident ball of sunshine seated next to her. Had this happened before the war, before knowing Nikolai, her crueler and colder heart would have prevailed and she wouldn’t have thought twice on this, burning the letter along with her sentiment. The beaming boy had definitely rubbed off on her.

“I can not forgive her, or them. I do not have it in me. And I cannot forget, not for now”, she said, cautious. That was what Lilyiana had always desired for her: to release the hold on her anger. For her, she could try. “But I can start by letting go. We can find her work in a factory, with a salary and some retirement money. I can provide her with a dignified life. That is all I can do. I will not get a letter from her anymore; I will not grant her audience or listen to her words. Someone will have to deal with this.” 

Juris roared inside her, clearly displeased. Hush, you lizard. How irritating of him. Be a dragon, bide your time and stop harassing me. Enough progress for today. Nikolai, on the contrary, smiled at her with relief, nudging her closer. 

“We will arrange it.” He let her rest her head in the crook of his neck, curling his arms around her. “Do you think you can close your eyes and rest for a while now?”. His voice was already coming from afar, as she inhaled deeply in his skin and her lashes fluttered closed with exhaustion. Zoya wished her days as queen would become less tiring, and she also wished they could always end in Nikolai’s safe hold. Her mind fell silent; the last thing she heard was his whisper hovering around her. “I got you, Zoya.”

Zoya could still be a daughter, could take the raven-haired child in her arms. Daughter of the wind. She could still be whole, worthy, and loved. We see you. She could be at peace. The world went black; yet, it was not dark.

[yeojaa]

( LOVED YOU BETTER. )

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.  

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.  

pairing.  kth x f!reader.

genre + rating.   slice of life.  an angst angel food cake with a fluffy, strawberry centre.  general.

tags / warnings.  minor (ish) character death, heartbreak, kim taehyung is bad at feelings, summer romance, abandonment issues, moving on, healing.  idk. 

wc.  4.3k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ @snackhobi​ @midnighttifa​ 💖 i love y’all!

author note.  this was written for the 'a long hot summer' event hosted by @thebtswritersclub​.  my member was taehyung (obviously!) with the sense being sight.  this is my first project for a net, so i hope you enjoy it!  💖

He spends most of his childhood in Lyon, skirting the rivers in search of inspiration.  It isn’t Paris, his mother tells him, but it’s just as lovely - quieter and more peaceful.  She insists, one day, she’ll take him home, where his maternal grandparents are buried and she’ll show him all the parts of her world.  

The first time he paints - eleven years old, seated at the edge of the Saône with a brush held between his teeth and pigment smearing his hands - his mother is delighted.  He fills the house with his works: pretty watercolours that mimic the blue of the river, the white of boats, the amber of the sky.  She loves them and she loves him and she tells him day in and day out, offering praise as readily as he offers his heart on canvas.  

He’s sixteen when he migrates stateside, to where his father grew up and his mother’s accent stands out.  He hates it there.  It’s boring and bland and it stifles his imagination.  There are no sail boats, no rivers, no pretty girls.  The days turn grey and so does his mother, as if she’d left the best parts of herself back in France.  She still tells him she loves him, promises that they’ll go back someday. 

At twenty-one, he learns love isn’t real.  His father files for divorce and his mother withers away.  When he goes, he packs his bags and doesn’t look back.  It’s a slamming door in an already abandoned home.  Beautiful as it might be, love is nothing but infatuation - fleeting and easily broken and fit only for the books that line the study.  It exists truly, wholly, only in the blood that runs in his veins.  

At twenty-two, he realises absolutely nothing lasts, for his mother leaves too, taking her lilting laughter and rose perfume with her, buried six feet under soil she’d never called home.  Her death is a nail in the door, sealing his childhood shut.  

His father does not attend the funeral.  Hardly anyone does.  

The paintings - lovely portraits of her wide eyes and full lips, of Parisian sunsets and paved streets - are all he has.  They serve as memories, painful reminders of the woman his mother once was, of the life he’d once lived.   They fill the house that’s no longer a home - hasn’t been, for years - tucked away in a room he refuses to enter.    

His mother had called him her petit choux because he was born with dough-soft cheeks, sweet as pie.  As he grew older, the name stuck - even if the fat hadn’t, slipping off his face with each passing year.  By the time he’s eighteen, he’s uncut edges rather than honey brioche.  At twenty-seven, he’s hardened far more than she would’ve ever expected of her beloved boy.  He is week old bread, stale and hard to the teeth.

But he is still her petit choux and he thinks she’d love him regardless.

So Kim Taehyung promises to go back.  For her - to find all the pieces she’d left behind and fashion them back together.  What he doesn’t expect is to meet you along the way. 

He discovers you on a day that scorches his bones, Parisian sun shimmering pavement and cobblestone.  You are a whirlwind of colour, every shade of the rainbow presented in the glory of your smile.  You treat the Seine like a lover, living at the edges of its shores with bare feet and bare legs and a bare face that begs to be memorised.

You laugh and it’s radiant, pealing bells that ring in his ears long after noon has struck. 

You call him mon chéri like it means something.   

It reminds him of his mother and he wonders whether she ever did these same things, dancing across the grass with an apricot caught between her teeth.  He hopes so. 

“Come, come,”  you coax, with a mouth that threatens to tear his chest wide open.  It presents pretty, in shades of ruby and wine;  it draws him in, sticky sweet, and he’s defenseless to your whims.  He goes where you go, following the flow of your hair, the curtain that draws back and has him seeing in technicolour.  

He laughs when you laugh, smiles when you smile.  You bring him to all the places he’s never been:  the cobbled streets his mother once roamed, the darkened bars filled with champagne, the sunlit warmth of your bedroom where wisteria branches hang low.  He paints you in all of them - sweeping watercolours into the silk of your hair, the curve of your lips, the swell of your hips when his palms grip them tight. 

You’re an ingenue, a muse, everything he’s ever wanted.  But he doesn’t love you - because love doesn’t exist.  Not in the ways they portray on the silver screen, with heartfelt declarations and bundles of overflowing roses.  He can’t give you those things;  he’s grateful you don’t ask.

Sometimes, he thinks you might dare to.  Can see it lurking in the lovely shade of your stare, how you study him when you think he isn’t watching.  Furtive glances, made beneath the thick line of your lashes, behind the brocade of your sun-drenched strands. 

But he’s Kim Taehyung and he’s always watching - always aware.  He hates to miss a single thing.

Don’t ask me to love you, he tells you without words.  

“Should we go to Lyon for the weekend?”  

You’re draped across the bed, drenched in lavender and warm like baked pastry.  Your tongue licks cream from your lips, sweetness touched with honey.  He drinks in your every movement, dedicating them to canvas.  There’s a freckle on your knee and another just below.  One more on your ankle and three along the top of your foot.  A constellation he hasn’t named yet.

“No,”  he answers, devoid of the same delight that frolics behind your teeth.  

“Why not?”  You press, because it’s what you do - forcing each button until you find the one that stirs something to life within him.  A coin-operated boy, rusty and in terrible disrepair.  He thinks you’d be wary of the bright red warning light but you seem almost colourblind, looking through rose-tinted glasses that dress all of his actions in warmth he doesn’t deserve.  

He doesn’t answer, sweeping his brush back and forth.  Lilac filters into water, a lovely shade that grows lighter and lighter with each pass of bristles.  It’s not quite the same as your dress - a silk creation that begs to live on your skin - but it’s close enough.  He’ll settle for it.

It reminds him of the flowers in the garden back home.  Back when his mother was alive and she still breathed life into the greenery, trimming stems and drying petals.  

“I don’t want to.”  A simple enough answer.  

You wait for him to elaborate, pouting and pleading like you might break him down with the sheer force of your beauty.  If he were any lesser man, you might have.  

“Please,”  you purr, too persuasive for your own good.  You’d settle into his lap, twist his honey strands between your fingers, if not for the stare he levels you with.  One that screams be good and stay still because the last thing he wants is you ruining the painting.  He doesn’t want to start all over and the light is already waning, sun lost somewhere behind drooping branches and the gauzy softness of your drapes.

“No.”  

“Please.”

Brush to water, then to colour.  A sweet orange - the flesh of a fresh cantaloupe without seeds.  “No.”

“Mon chéri—” 

He booms out “No!” like a cannon.  It’s akin to being scolded, stilling the playfulness in your hands.  You’re ignorant to all the reasons he refuses to indulge you but you think of it as nothing but selfishness, a cold you can’t weather.  One you refuse to when flowers are in full bloom and the air outside lays a salt-crown  atop your brow.  This is your kingdom, your rightful place - you bow to no one. 

You stiffen, rise from the bed in a motion that disrupts every part of him.  Motions still, knuckles white.  No no no.  You’re ruining it.  You’re ruining—

“Get out.”

Taehyung can’t quite believe his ears - staring at you in such aghast you almost laugh right in his face.  He has the audacity to perform such theatrics after yelling at you?  How dare he!  It enrages you, brings your blue blood to a boil beneath your skin.

“Pardon?”  The sound rolls, trips, and stumbles, dirt on his palms and knees as he stares up at you.

“I said get out, mon chéri.”  You’ve unbuttoned the rumpled shirt - his, with his initials embroidered across the cuff - allowing it to drop from your shoulders and into his lap.  He glares down at it, stained now with the watercolours in his palette.  It’d be pretty if it weren’t so infuriating. 

“I’m not done.”  

You tch, a derisive sound that bites worse than your love, your nails painted in Chanel.  “I don’t care.”

“I’m not done,”  he repeats, perhaps a little lost.  It crawls out between his teeth, a lost man seeking solace.  He needs to finish this.  He hasn’t painted you this way yet, bathed in faded light.  It’s an empty slot in his album of memories.  He can’t let it go.

You’re unrepentant, dismissive.  A table turned.  “I don’t care.” 

He hates you then.  He doesn’t realise how close the emotion is to love.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, lost itself to the wind and the rivers.  He only knows, suddenly, he was not a boy but a man, a miserable soldier made to walk the plank.  He thinks it might’ve been when she died, taking the last traces of his youth with her.  Gone was the innocence, the gentility, the voraciousness;  all at once, the ease - the glory, the good - had evaporated, leaving in its place a broken boy too angular, too angry. 

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, but he remembers all too well when her death had eclipsed the light, leaving him in perpetual darkness.  

It makes sense then - that his whole life is a charnel house, built on the foundation of someone else’s bones.  It’s only fitting it becomes a memorial to a long-gone mother, a weeping wife, a star burnt out too soon. 

He’s somehow still surprised when his kingdom - formidable, impenetrable, guarded - comes crumbling down, an overgrown old city ruined.  As if he’d expected those skeletons to hold him forever, to carry the weight of his desolation within their hollows.  He begs for absolution when it falls beneath a thousand leagues, lost to saltwater and liquor.  He drowns within it and it seeps, sticks, stirs - catching in his stare and trembling his fingers.  

Nostalgia comes like ghosts - old men lost at sea.

They’re dim, twilight, held behind a heavy fog.  Old memories on a carousel ride, spinning in perpetual motion.  They’re snapshots of his mother, his youth, his home.  They pass too quickly;  he can never catch them.  

Years old misery claws its way up his chest and he chokes on it each night, lying awake listening to the city groan, straining like a dying beast on its last legs.  He misses her, he misses you, he misses the person he used to be.  He aches for it - a nameless thing just out of reach.  

Something Taehyung begs and cries for until he’s blue in the face.

Something you’d given him, in the form of kisses and promises.  Something he’d only shoved you down into the dirt for - right where she was.  Because no one kept promises, and he didn’t want to hate you later.  (For loving, for leaving.)  

Instead, he hates himself, and that is a neater, cleaner way to end the story.  

He is bereft, drifting between days he has neither the desire nor wherewithal to consider. 

He sees women just like you - girls that run barefoot through the grass, fancying themselves dancers, muses, inspirations.  They laugh, they kiss, they cite vague poetry.  They preen when he asks to paint them, throwing exaggerated shapes with the lines of their necks, the flutter of their lashes.

Still, none of them are you - too soft and rounded. 

None possess the same insolence, polite phrases toeing the line of sophisticate and street urchin.  They are all wind-up ballerinas, dancing on rotation, with smiles not right, too tight.  They’re too flat, too freckled, reminiscent of rotting cherries and mint-green Ladurée bags you’d scoff at.  They leave his canvases better off bare, boring and one-dimensional.  Taehyung resents them. 

But he doesn’t love you, and he tells himself that whenever he misses you.

A victim of ennui, he slips into a pattern he abhors.  Supine lounging in the evenings, preceded only by listless wandering during the long hours of the day.  He drifts with the rise and fall of the sun, eyes blind to the beauty around him. 

Nothing feels quite right anymore - not in the way it used to.  There are no memories of his mother, no sweet tales told by a ghost.  It’s empty empty empty, only shit-stained streets and hollow bodies.

He prays for an answer, a sign, anything. 

It comes in the form of you - nearly three weeks later, beneath a stream of sunlight that casts you in chiaroscuro.  For the first time, he itches to paint.  The need thrums in his fingers, a million little nerve endings firing off.  He itches to touch you too, but he ignores that, shoves it into the deepest, darkest recess of his thoughts as he can.  He needs to focus on one thing and one thing only:  doing what he came here to do.

“Bonjour.”  It comes bare, undressed and vulnerable.  By the look on your face, it isn’t what you want.

You twist away, entire body angling uncomfortably in your effort to ignore him.  “What do you want?”  You’re cruel, capricious - a god looking upon a lowly farmhand with no offering.  It stings in a way it shouldn’t, pulls his expression into a frown before he can mask it. 

That’s better, you think.  He can practically read the smug emotion dancing in those pretty irises.

“You haven’t called.”  

“Neither have you.”  

“You told me to leave.”

“And you left.”

For every excuse, you have a rebuttal.  It’s a game of chess he’s bound to lose.  It’s as frustrating as it is enticing, stirring something warm and heavy in the cavity behind his ribs.  A little hummingbird come to life, wings beating relentlessly and kicking up all the dust of his childhood trauma.

“I’m sorry.”  It’s hardly an apology, too greedy to come the way it should.  Taehyung does this for himself, for his promise, for memories he refuses to let go. 

You see right through him.  “Are you?”  

“I am.”  

“You’re not.”

“I am.”  

“Tell me what you’re sorry for.”

The words I am are poised on his tongue and reduced to ash with your question.  He’s never had to try so hard a day in his life.  It feels wrong, messy, awful.  Every part of him compels him to rebel - to wax poetic about the things he’s done right, how what you’re asking is too much.  I cannot love you, he thinks.  

“I thought so.”  There’s nothing but disdain in your stare, turning it sharp like a knife that threatens to glide through his armour.  “You’re selfish, Kim Taehyung.  All you want is to take and take and take.  You refuse to give.”  

You’re not wrong.  He wears his sadness like a solid steel plate;  it curls around his vertebrae, writhing in his belly until he’s full, aching, complete.  He doesn’t know how to exist without it, apart from it.  It keeps him safe, satisfied, out of harm’s way.  It’s both a blessing and a curse.  

As you leave, he wonders whether it’s worth it.

Six long days pass.  Six too many, drawn out and miserable.  He aches to create, to sketch, to paint.  He calls you in a moment of weakness;  you come, nonetheless.

“What do you want?”  You repeat, mouthful of thorns and scar tissue.  

This time Taehyung has an answer.  He’s ready, confident in his recital.  It spills forth loosely, with abstract brazenness.  “I want you.”  There’s no room for uncertainty, zero leeway to be found in between the syllables.  It’s the most sincere he’s been all season, made true by the summer sun and your focused, unyielding stare.

“You want moi?”  It’s a dance with the devil - question poised like a hand.  “Do you even know what wanting someone means?”  You’re steady, unwavering, just as he is. 

He hesitates then, just barely, with a tick of his jaw, fingers curling around nothing.  You take that as weakness, delicate mouth curling into a sneer.  He sees it - all the I told you so’s poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to silence him.  He beats you to it, crashing his mouth against yours with a recklessness that thrums in his veins, sending his heart on a wild chase for that something.

He’s spent his whole life in pursuit of a feeling, a spectre, a bittersweet memory.  He thinks he might’ve lost himself along the way.

“I want you.  I want you - and us.”  

What he means to say is he wants all the things that come with it:  the bratty rebuttals, the early morning eagerness, the taste of you every night.  He wants the eyelashes on his pillow case, the lipstick stains, the scent of your perfume - citrus and nectarine blossom, cocoa butter, fresh cream.  He wants the trips to the countryside, the new memories, the paintings full of you.  He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.  He needs it like he needs air, light, art.

He needs you - his muse.  

He tells you, shamelessly, around a lump that forms in his throat and makes it hard to breathe.  “We’ll go to Lyon.  If you want to go, we’ll go.”  

The place where he grew up is different, wrapped in ivy and devoid of light.  Windows are drawn and everything leans grey, weeds sprouting beneath his expensive leather loafers.  They curl around his ankles, creep up the back of his knees;  they threaten to crush him beneath their weight.  He imagines his insides look the same - neglected and vacant.  

He wishes he hadn’t come.  This isn’t his home, his kingdom, his heart.  Not anymore.

“Come, mon chéri,”  you hum, stirring him from his reverie, pulling his thoughts through the seven circles of Hell until he’s back in the present, stiff at your side with your fingers interlaced.  You offer an affectionate smack of your lips - wine-stained and pretty - to his cheek.  He does not soften. 

“Let’s go.”  It comes despite himself, before he can help it, in a voice that isn’t his.  It’s too soft, too unsure - fifteen years younger and vulnerable.

You regard him closely, with a careful narrow of your stare.  He can read the pity there, the frustration that swims in the depths - circling sharks seeking out the scent of his blood.  It’s inescapable.  He wishes you’d stop.  He doesn’t need you to lecture him.  

Misery rises, licks up his throat like bile, and he worries it might spill out, red as the crimson sea.  Part of him wants it to - a defense mechanism he can’t control;  the other part of him knows he should swallow it down.  He has no reason to fight you.

“Come,”  you repeat, and he’s defenseless, lost to your siren song.  He steps back in time, white-knuckled and terrified. 

There are no longer peonies in the kitchen, nor roses in the front hall.  Dust settles over every surface, dry soil kicked up beneath his feet.  

Taehyung tries to recall the way his mother would busy herself in the garden, bent over her flowers like an altar.  How her knees were perpetually scarred, dirt caught beneath her nails, dark hair a braided wreath worn like a crown.  It was the only time she was anything but composed - full of light and laughter and a love for the alive.  He’d eat breakfast with her in the front yard, a shadow that would follow her every move.  Back and forth, he’d go - on his feet, with his brush, in his thoughts. 

Every painting was of her - of tulips and daisies, bare ankles and sun-kissed skin.  The shape of her mouth, the freckle on her nose.  Her delight when his father would come home. 

He swears he smells her perfume now, standing in the place he’d grown up.  He’s reminded of hot coffee and fresh bread, her fluttering laughter and brass watering can.  He’ll dream about it for days, memories rolling like a Super 8 film through his mind.

He cries I’m fine when he isn’t.  You hold him until he is. 

You sleep together on a Sunday afternoon.  

When you wake, the sun is low on the horizon and you’re the prettiest Taehyung’s ever seen you, features thrown in stark relief.  You’re salt-sweet and striking, dressed in linen whites and the shape of his mouth.  

He paints the pale soles of your feet, drawn against your leg, and the shade of your nails, a pretty colour he attributes to springtime and sonnets.  He indulges in the sound of your voice, soft and hazy in his ear.  You kiss him like he isn’t broken and you taste like memories - ones he hasn’t made yet, but desperately wants to.  He is both sinking and floating, as if you’ve taken his heart from his chest and hold it, beating, somewhere high above his head. 

He carries your perfume for weeks after, heavy on his skin.  Lingering, like you’ve become a part of him, like he’s fallen in love. 

Kim Taehyung had once surrounded himself with beautiful things - paintings and drawings and girls.  He’d thought if he fenced himself in with all things good, there would be no cracks for the outside world - the real world, full of misery and deceit - to seep through.  He’d kept his hands occupied by brushes, by thorns, by a million little material things.

He hadn’t realised all he needed was yours, warm in his. 

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.  

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.  

The confession comes at the end of summer, edges past the cage of his teeth into the quiet of the evening.  It comes and comes, so softly he thinks you might laugh, corners of your eyes wrinkling like the sheets in which you’re bare.

Maybe it’s the way your hair falls over your shoulders, a curtain he aches to part, to feel beneath his hands.  Maybe it’s the way you look at him with hungry eyes and wet lips and teeth that could crumble all of his walls as if they were made of papier-mache.  

Maybe it’s just you, skin like silk and eyes like the night sky.  

“I think I love you,”  Taehyung states, careful, with his entire heart in his hands. 

“You think?  

He nods, although he mustn’t.  He can’t, he reminds himself.

And yet he does, because there is no denying how well you fit each other’s curves, the truth that you are two pieces of the same puzzle.  He wakes up early each day with the taste of you still on his tongue, the memory of you seared into his palms.  Your body has become his home and it is real, flesh and blood, not broken bones buried six feet under.  

You fill his silence with your laughter;  it sounds like redemption and feels like hope.

Before he knows it, seasons change.

Autumn becomes a waiting room, a time between the unyielding heat of summer and the unbearable cold of winter.  Taehyung loves the quiet of it, the progression as steady as the chill that creeps beneath his clothes, within his bed - everywhere but in his head.  

He remembers his mother, his home, all the things he’s lost.  He pays homage to the woman who had raised him right but left too soon.  He finds the places she’d told him about and folds secrets into their corners.  He creates new memories, introducing his present to his past.  You call her mamman and tell her not to worry, promising that you’ll take care of him.  

He lives beneath the fading leaves that serve as a benchmark for which to measure the growth he’s undergone.  He imagines his life in film, in rolling scenes laid out in sepia tones.  He imagines weeks passing by and versions of himself doing the things he loves most.

Laid out under the copper sky, your head in his lap and a brush in his hands.  He doesn’t need to look at you - can fit you among the pages purely from memory.  The turn of your smile, the twinkle in your stare, the little freckle just beneath your lip.  He sees you in his dreams and he commits them to paper, filling his sketchbook as you fill his thoughts.

Wandering the streets, hand in hand, guided by your laughter and the smell of warm pastry.  Bare legs, echoing footsteps, the sight of your smile when he’s said something particularly funny.  You cry Mon chéri! and force a cherry between his lips, savouring the tart taste under the afternoon sun.

Upon your balcony, skin searing beneath high noon and the feel of your mouth.  He lets you paint him - sits terribly still as you show him who he really is - stripping his pretenses with each pass of your brush.  He is bare but not broken, a beautiful boy painted in earth tones and paired with intense eyes.  

Taehyung tells you your painting is beautiful and that he loves it - that he loves you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​

[cutest-bunny-writings]

Just read be your own lover ☺️☺️ great work as always 😍😍 For the 850 list mabey number 613 with sugar ? Would love to read it if your not to busy 😆

#613: "Put the knife down! This family dinner isn't going to end like the last one!"

Warnings: submissive Jungkook, non-sexual use of the title mommy, Jungkook is a nervous bunny, reader's parents are degrading, minor sexual references, reader calls Jungkook beautiful in her monologue, reader's parents think they have a right to pass judgement on everyone, reader angrily stabs the table repeatedly with a steak knife while enraged, reader is angry and very emotional due to increased hormones on her period. (Periods suck.) Angst but I make it up to you at the end.

You were absolutely terrified of introducing Jungkook to your family. Not because of him but because of them.

Your entire family wanted you to play the helpless little girl act to attract alpha males. Not your cup of tea.

"Bunny?" You ask, eyes still glued to the television screen.

"Hm?" Jungkook's hands press ever so slightly onto your abdomen at the recognition of the nickname.

"My parents want me to bring you to a family dinner this weekend." You let out a huff and he looked down at you surprised.

"Why?"

"Because they're curious about the man I'm absolutely in love with." You lean your head back onto his shoulder and place a kiss on his jaw.

"I don't see anything wrong with that." He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your lips.

"I don't want you in that toxic environment. Backhanded compliments and them telling me about how submissive will 'destroy my social status' when in reality nobody cares about anybody else's sex preferences." You go to put Jungkook's warm hands back over your abdomen to ease the cramping from your period.

He nuzzles into your hair and leaves soft kisses every once in a while as you calm down from your building rage.

---

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"I know, Bunny, so am I."

You both breathe in deep breaths before you knock on the door. Immediately after, a loud click and creaking hinges are heard.

"Y/N! How nice of you to actually come visit! And who is this?" Your mother, in all her bitchy glory, has the audacity to say you never visit. You're literally never invited unless they want to feel better about their miserable lives.

"Mother, this is Jungkook, my boyfriend."

Your mother looks Jungkook up and down like she has the right to judge such a beautiful man.

Your hand finds it's way around Jungkook's body to the other side of his waist and you see your mother scowl in disbelief.

"What's his status?"

"My boyfriend. Why does he need a socialite status?"

A scoff and then a mumbled "come in" are heard.

You beckon for Jungkook to lower his head so you can tell him something quietly. "I'm sorry she's like that. That's why I always tried to avoid bringing you. Now give Mommy a kiss and then we'll go find somewhere to sit."

No hesitation, Jungkook leaned forward for that kiss like there was no tomorrow. It was adorable how he got like that in public.

As he pressed his forehead to your's after ending the kiss you heard another scoff from your dad.

"Back in my day, couples didn't show physical affections outside their own homes."

"Well, Father, it's our day now. So get off your outdated high-horse and leave us be." Jungkook just stared at you with equal parts shock and pure admiration.

---

"Dinner Time!" Your mother shouted from the dining area after setting everything out.

"Jungkook, you'll be sitting at the very end if the table. Y/N on your father's right and I'll be on the left."

"Mother this is ridiculous. This is an eight-person table. My boyfriend should be able to sit next to me."

"He needs to pass judgement and gain your father's approval before that happens."

"HE WHAT?!" You angrily pick up a steak knife and jam it into the table before tearing it out leaving a large gouge. "'HAS TO PASS JUDGEMENT AND GAIN APPROVAL?!'" You look over to your boyfriend and see both terror and curiosity. "AND YOU PEOPLE WONDER WHY I DON'T VISIT!" Each word was punctuated by a giant stab to the table.

"PUT THE KNIFE DOWN! THIS FAMILY DINNER ISN'T GOING TO END LIKE THE LAST ONE!"

"YES. IT. IS." You get up and toss the knife onto the table, marching straight for your boyfriend, grabbing his arm to haul him out the door and toss him in the car.

---

On the whole drive back Jungkook was silent. Which originally made you worried but you realized he had fallen asleep probably from stress exhaustion. There was more than one reason he was called Bunny.

---

The next morning when you woke up, you found a pleasant surprise.

Your boyfriend, damn near naked and holding a breakfast tray.

"So am I supposed to eat the food or you?" You giggle and watch him blush, admiring all the tattoos that danced along his skin. Something about being the one that paid for them brought you immense peace.

"I figured since last night was so stressful that I would give a day to relax."

"But I have work today-"

"No, you don't. I called in for you."

"Aw, Bunny thank you so much." You sat up to look at the assortment on the tray and spotted french toast.

You excitedly picked up a piece and bite into it. Jungkook leaned forward for a kiss and ended up stealing the piece of toast from you.

"First off, how dare you. Second, you're about to become my table as punishment for stealing my food." You both giggled at the thought.

-------------------------------------------------------

My asks and submissions are always open! You can send me a number from either 1-850 or 1-525 and I'll write a drabble/fic but please specify which list!😌

I love you, my fluffies!🥰❤

[airashisakura]

Late submission for @fantasysasusaku SasuSaku Fantasy Week Day 6 - Soulmate/ Prophecy/ Reincarnation

Title: Embodiment of his Fate

Pairing: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke

A/N: A mythology from my country had inspired me to write this piece. This was supposed to be posted during the event, but it got unusually long and took a lot of time than I expected. Also this first AU written by me.

FFN AO3

****

Part I

Sasuke — the lone wanderer — didn’t expect again to see the embodiment of his fate in green and pink. Even the gods were sometimes astonished, and Sasuke, the god of catastrophe, felt his world shaking when a pair of tired yet cheerful eyes smiled at him.

“Sakura?” he asked, every syllable carrying disbelief. He bit his tongue as the forbidden name left his mouth, because the Sakura he knew and loved had died long ago.

The owner of shining jade eyes and rosy coloured hair nodded at him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

Her words echoed more than the thunderstorms he created. He had heard those words before rolling out from a certain pinkette's mouth. He recognised the ‌same words and her loving tone, but only in memories of a time long ago.

Was she the Sakura he knew? Was it an illusion borne out of his longing? Or was she a reincarnation?

****

Sasuke had always been alone — without any roots and attachments. He didn’t know his family or when and where he was born. He grew up in the darkness of the Ryuchi caves, his only companions being snakes. They were neither his friends nor his enemies, but he polished his basic instincts by observing and mimicking them.

Over time, Sasuke became an invincible warrior — one who rivaled Naruto. Over time, he earned the dignity of a God alongside Naruto.

Sasuke’s sole purpose was to destroy the imperfections and illusions, paving the way for beneficial change. His kind of destruction wasn’t arbitrary but constructive. He was thus seen both as good and evil and regarded as one who combines contradictory elements.

Naruto, unlike Sasuke, had a peaceful demeanor — being praised as God of Preservation — and nourished the world and its being. They worked in sync and ran the cycle of life — destroying the life which was futile and restoring a better life from the ashes.

Their ideologies were different, but they created a perfect balance. Naruto thrived on building bonds and made judgments with compassion, always forgiving and guiding misled souls. Sasuke, on the other hand, was more extreme — he always took an eye for an eye and a hand for a hand, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t forgiving like Naruto either, and he claimed that his sense of judgement was always clearer. Sasuke despised Naruto’s philosophy. In his perspective, being enslaved to mere emotions would bring no good to the world.

Sasuke was pure consciousness, completely without pretension, never repetitive, always spontaneous, forever inventive, ceaselessly creative, and passionate about his actions.

One day, when Naruto and Sasuke were settling their arguments with a battle, Kakashi, a wise and mischievous messenger between Gods of Heaven and Kings of Earth, noticed how passionately Sasuke wielded his sword. The more Kakashi saw of Sasuke, the more he was in awe of him. His cunning mind bore a wish. He wanted to see how passionately this man could build bonds.

Kakashi knew Sasuke would be enraged if he approached him. Instead, he plotted a conspiracy. He went to The Creator himself — the one who created the world and appointed the protector and the destroyer. Hagoromo himself was amused by Kakashi’s proposal, but he watched Sasuke and saw the stillness surrounding him — the pain that Sasuke was unable to see himself. Hagoromo took pity and advised Kakashi to go to The Land of Fire.

Konohagakure, the capital of the Land of Fire, was prosperous and mighty, ruled by Queen Tsunade. The queen was strong willed and stubborn and feared no catastrophe. She had always been the one who harshly criticized Sasuke’s way of living and his actions.

Kakashi was a shrewd diplomat and knew he could never succeed in convincing the Queen to do what Hagoromo suggested, so he tricked her. He told her that The Creator himself wanted her beautiful kingdom to prosper more and had decided to present a gift to her. Tsunade was thrilled to know that, and the wise lady was unable to see behind Kakashi’s conspiracy.

A holy fire always burned at the heart of The Land of Fire. This fire was regarded pious because it had been burning since the beginning of civilization. The strongest of rains and harshest of winds were never able to extinguish the holy fire. The high raging flames were Tsunade’s pride and she believed no one, even The Gods themselves could demolish her Kingdom.

As promised, a beautiful adolescent girl emerged from that fire. As the girl descended from the altar, the mere touch of her soles made the earth more fertile, and her smile brought serenity.

People called her The New Goddess, and she was named Sakura. Her beauty was ethereal and her voice sweeter than honey. The shade of her eyes rivaled emerald and her hair was as graceful as cherry blossoms. Her laugh jingled with air as melodious as an angel's song. She possessed a heart brimming with compassion and love that melted even the coldest of hearts.

Tsunade, a fierce and strong tempered woman, developed a motherly instinct towards her. Sakura churned out love from the depths of the heart of the warrior queen. Tsunade found peace in Sakura’s presence and loved doing mundane things with her. Tsunade treated Sakura like her own daughter and doted on her.

As years passed by, Sakura bloomed, and she mastered everything Tsunade had taught her. Tsunade was elated and boasted that she would make her a warrior and queen like herself.

Tsunade didn’t trust many people around Sakura. She considered Sakura a precious entity and kept her hidden from the eyes of the unknown and evil. However, Kakashi was neither unknown nor evil, and thus he met Sakura routinely and helped her with her growing loneliness.

“What does freedom feel like?” she had asked Kakashi one day while her eyes drifted out from her windows, trying to see the boundaries of the Konoha.

Kakashi knew what she was talking about, but he remained silent, finding the best possible way to introduce her to the character for whom he had conspired everything.

“I want to see what’s outside those big gates.”

Sakura looked towards Kakashi, expecting an answer, and added, her voice fading, “And know more people.”

Tsunade had told her that she was destined to be the queen of this land, and so she couldn’t befriend anybody she wanted.

Kakashi silently mocked the situation. A goddess boon for a kingdom, bane for herself.

“Do you want to meet someone who can show you the real essence of freedom?”

Sakura nodded, her green eyes sparkling with eagerness.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkled at her innocence — how prophecy was working in the background, without her knowledge.

“There’s one problem though.” Kakashi rubbed his chin, squinting his eyes.

Sakura gave him a questioning look, and Kakashi said in a hushed, secretive voice, “He doesn’t like meeting anybody.”

“Huh? But why?” Sakura demanded, her voice two octaves higher than Kakashi’s.

Kakashi laughed at her innocence again.

“Oh! Tell me, where can I meet him? And would mother allow me?” she asked hopefully, fidgeting with the laces of her gown.

Kakashi’s relaxed face became serious. However, he knew how to outsmart the legendary Queen herself.

“Well, you have to go to Shikkotsu Forest.”

Sakura looked bewildered, as she had never heard of the place before.

“You don’t know where it is, do you?” Kakashi asked, and Sakura shook her head with a frown.

“Don’t worry. I’ll escort you there.” Kakashi smiled softly to her, but before Sakura could run down to tell Tsunade about her adventure, Kakashi interrupted. “However, don’t tell The Queen that you are going to meet someone. You know right? The Queen doesn’t like that.”

Sakura nodded again, saddened by the fact that she had to lie, but the thrill of the impending adventure washed away her guilt.

Kakashi then convinced Tsunade to follow his plan by pointing out that Katsuyu, the slug from Shikkotsu forest, had always served the Queen and for Sakura to succeed her throne in the future, she must know Katsuyu and Shikkotsu woods. Tsunade was convinced and, although unwillingly, gave her permission.

Dressed in the attire of a warrior and saddled upon a horse, she waved goodbye to her mother and the kingdom. The horse kicked the ground and started running at full speed, and Sakura wondered why she hadn’t thought of exploring outside the high walls of the palace before. She had always thought Konoha was a paradise, but as she crossed mile after mile, she realised the world outside Konoha was much more chaotic and beautiful.

Sometimes they slowed down, and the horses lazily strolled while she and Kakashi chatted. Kakashi would tell her about the magical slug Katsuyu and how she would be going to live in the wilderness. She also learned a little more about the man she was going to meet.

He is the embodiment of stillness and energy both, she had remembered Kakashi saying. His face carried a calm and stoic expression while inside he was chaotic and frightful. He remained still and unmoving when he reflected on his purpose, and yet he moved with a lightning speed when he executed his actions.

His stillness and energy both intrigued Sakura more. She had never felt so lively before, and as she reached closer to Shikkotsu forest, she couldn’t wait more to taste how it felt — how freedom looked like.

Almost a year passed, and Sakura had accepted Shikkotsu woods as her new home. Her silky hair grew longer and unruly, and she tied it up in a messy knot. The dresses she had brought with herself were old and torn, and she learned how to sew them. She spent hours after hours collecting food and grew more petite. What didn’t change was her radiant beauty and the mesmerizing smile that never left her lips.

She remembered her mother’s command clearly:

Learn healing magic from Katsuyu. When you become The Queen, it will benefit the people of the Kingdom.

Sakura never strayed from her routine with Katsuyu, gaining knowledge about the secrets of magical power that the slug possessed.

After that, she spent most of her time sitting on the wooden branches of a tree, looking towards the entrance of the forest. Sometimes she swung her legs in impatience, sometimes disappointment took over, and sometimes she mulled over her decision to leave the kingdom. She had waited for almost two years now and sadness took over her face when she realised the day wasn’t far when her mother would send an army to escort her back.

Although a goddess who could do wonders waited for a man and her destiny.

When Kakashi had informed him that a certain intruder had invaded Shikkostu woods, Sasuke had scoffed when he found a frail lady roaming through the forest.

“What possible harm could she cause?” he’d said.

Kakashi chuckled under his breath.

Unless cold-blooded God knew, she had the capability to destroy his ultimate defense of indifference.

Sasuke became curious and went to Shikkotsu forest to know what a princess was doing there. When he arrived, he found no trace of her and thought she had left. He was about to leave, when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned, sighing that the intruder hadn’t left. Before he could say anything, the same fragile lady had already released an arrow from the bow.

He hadn’t expected much, but even less had he expected to meet her in the middle of Shikkotsu forest with blood dripping out from his chest where her arrow had pierced him. A pair of perplexed green eyes pierced his onyx while he struggled to stand straight but failed and stumbled to the ground.

Sakura didn’t realise she had shot the man she had been waiting for instead of some intruder until she took a minute to tally the features that Kakashi had supplied her with. Chiseled jawline, one visible onyx eye and another hidden under his raven locks, a face that was sharp as blade, and an expression hard as rock. The visible anger in his eye and the scowl that marred his face was undeniably attractive.

Sakura rushed towards him, bracing him in her arms. She could feel his ragged breathing tickling on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Sakura?”

Her eyes widened, but before she could brace herself for the next blow, she spoke out, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

She was bewildered, and he was unconscious. She stayed still, contemplating the situation. They were meeting for the first time. They’d never known each other, and they didn't know each other’s name, yet how smoothly their names rolled out of each other tongues.

When Sasuke gained consciousness, he saw a mop of messy pink hair. Although he felt his blood boiling because never in his whole life had he been knocked unconscious, but the presence of the woman whose back he could see pacified him. He didn’t know how, but it did. His throat was dry and his lips felt chapped, and he coughed, notifying his intruder that he was awake.

Sakura turned towards her intruder, getting off from her place where she was crushing and mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. She offered him water and apologised for earlier. Sasuke’s sour expression told her that her apology wasn’t accepted. She sighed, berating herself for the mistake. She had shot the man she had been waiting for.

How was she supposed to fix this?

Her fingers trembled as she layered herbs on his wound. She could feel his heart beating, and it felt oddly familiar — like she was well versed with the rhythm.

“How do you know my name?” She broke the silence.

Sasuke gave her a confused look, and then it dawned upon him that he had never met her before. He was speechless, somewhat unable to explain and somewhat lost in her eyes. What was happening to him? Whenever he looked into those deep green abysses, he felt he was losing, and for the first time ever, it felt good.

One day while Sakura was nursing him, she shared with him the prophecy she’d been told, ignoring his gruff and uninterested look. Sasuke walked away from her, stating he had been alone since birth and intended to be that way. He tried to sneak out, but Sakura demanded that he should stay until he was healed. He didn’t want to comply because he never had to anyone, but somehow the concern in her face made him. It felt good — someone worried for him — someone taking care of him.

He later regretted his decision when Sakura became too comfortable with him.

He was on his side trying to get some sleep when Sakura asked him out of nowhere, “What does freedom feel like?”

He glared at her, irritated she had interrupted his sweet sleep.

Next when she was coaxing him to eat something, and Sasuke sat there looking outside at the falling rain without responding to her tantrums, Sakura huffed in anger, “Why don’t you at least talk?”

He couldn’t explain what he had felt when he saw her sleeping face under the moonlight. It felt like anesthesia — lulling his senses — sending him to a deeper state of peacefulness. All the years of fighting, slaying and punishing wrong-doers started to feel futile. He snuck out of the forest that night because he knew he would be destroyed if he stayed with her any longer.

Prophecy was working in the background, and something unexpected happened. He found himself again at Shikkotsu forest with, finding way back to Sakura.

“Welcome back.”

When he found Sakura smiling back at him — smiling for him — he felt he had made the right decision to return

He was fishing for lunch while Sakura sat beside him, gazing at the floating clouds. She asked, breaking the silence, “Does freedom feel like this? Being you and doing all you want.”

He turned towards her, and noticed a wistful smile playing on her lips and offered, “I will show you, if you come with me.”

Every god and demigod was astonished. They have never seen Sasuke, the lone wanderer, indulging in life, bonds, or attachments. Kakashi sipped wine while watching Sasuke fall passionately in love.

The news spread like fire, and it didn’t take much time to reach Tsunade’s ears. She was infuriated and commanded her army to drag Sakura back. Before Sakura could explain the unexplainable bond that had developed between them, Tsunade lashed out at her. She criticized both Sakura’s decision and the man who she had given her heart. Sakura was put under watch, locked up in a room as punishment for her actions.

Perhaps punishing her for the fate that she carried from the day when she was born.

The decision was hers — to be caged and become The Queen or to flee and embrace freedom.

She chose the latter. Chose the path that the prophecy had led her to. Chose the stranger who had tugged the strings of her heart.

In the darkness of night as the horse galloped, Sakura looked back for the last time, and the kingdom disappeared on the horizon with a new life waiting for her.

She had everything, yet she had felt empty. When she abandoned everything, she felt complete.

When Sakura stepped into their new abode, she found piles of snow and chilly winds blowing around. She had spent part of her life under warm sunshine and the royal ceiling. For a princess, it was difficult to adjust, but alongside all adversities, there was unadulterated love — love that had lifted the weight of expectations of royal duties from her shoulders. She felt like home, the feeling Konoha couldn’t give her.

Now she spent her days carelessly. Some days she would rest her head on his shoulder and look at the horizon as far as her eyes would allow. Some days they would travel, disguising themselves as commoners. And at those moments, she took liberty of her newfound freedom — forgetting she was a goddess — and mingled with people of unknown places.

And Sasuke let her be random and spontaneous — like him.

Perhaps this was the freedom she yearned for and had searched all over these years. Sasuke didn’t teach her how to live. Instead, his presence influenced her. She would sit silently and watch with awe when he stayed still and meditated or practiced with his sword.

The one who never knew the meaning of home had made a home at the top of The Three Wolves Mountain. Sasuke, who hadn’t known feelings, started feeling multitudes of emotions. Love and companionship were the words he had despised, but now he could understand why his counterpart, Naruto, bragged about them. Sakura made his existence meaningful, showing him beauty in the things he had often dismissed.

Her presence never became a chain for him, and she never overstepped her boundaries or meddled with Sasuke’s work. He still had a clear view of judgement, with a pinch of compassion that he had learned from her. He hadn’t shed his furious demeanor, but he reconsidered his motives before acting.

Sasuke as the world knew him had untamed passion, which led him to be extreme in behaviour. Sometimes he was an ascetic — abstaining from worldly pleasure. At others he was a hedonist — indulging every bit in marital bliss.

Living with Sakura brought him balance.

****

Part II

“Don’t you understand? You’re the future Queen. You can’t fall in love with someone who has nothing and is a lunatic murderer.”

Tsunade’s blood had been boiling with anger when she learned about the prophecy that had been crafted right under her nose. She had believed that her daughter was innocent, and it was just a filthy trick that Kakashi was playing on her until she had heard Sakura pleading.

“Please let me go.”

Honey-colored eyes filled with anger and hurt glanced towards Sakura.

Sakura spoke again, albeit afraid of Tsunade. After that, Tsunade didn't lock Sakura away. She wanted to test Sakura’s resolve — test her loyalty and love towards her and Konoha.

The next morning she was greeted with the news that the princess had eloped.

If she wanted to, she could have hunted her down, but Tsunade clearly remembered Sakura’s final words from their last conversation.

“I want to live with Sasuke… I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Although she allowed Sakura to become part of Sasuke’s life, she never accepted them, and she could never forget the sting of Sakura’s words. She hated Sasuke more for taking Sakura away from her.

After some years had passed, Tsunade decided to hold a festival in the honor of the good harvest that had sprouted from the Land of Fire. She invited every god and demigod, every lord across the nation, even the commoners and beggars. She wanted to share the happiness that she had lost after she had last seen her daughter. She couldn’t lie to herself that she still loved Sakura dearly, although she had disowned her from her heart and cared less about her whereabouts.

That’s the price Sakura would pay, she thought, because everyone was welcomed, except Sasuke and Sakura.

While Sakura and Sasuke were enjoying their routine of sitting together in silence, Sakura noticed a lot of traffic — the finest of chariots, all the lords, gods and goddesses going somewhere dressed immaculately.

Sasuke noticed she was distracted by the commotion. He knew exactly what was happening and where all of them were going, but he said nothing.

Sakura couldn’t hold back her curiosity and she asked, “What is this? Where is everyone going?”

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to go where they are going,” Sasuke replied, ignoring her.

Sakura knew the roads the others traveled led towards her old home. She became more restless, and she asked Sasuke again, “It seems like everyone is going to Konoha. Is something happening there?”

“Don’t bother yourself. We are fine here,” Sasuke replied curtly.

Seeing Sakura disappointed, he finally let out his biggest insecurity, “Are you unhappy here?”

“No, I’m happy here,” Sakura smiled, giving up on her curiosity.

The next day when she saw the same, she didn’t pester Sasuke again. Instead she stopped one of the chariots and asked them, “Where are you all going?”

They replied, “Don’t you know? There’s a big festival in Konoha, and your mother has invited all of us. Are you not coming?”

She felt totally lost when she came to know that she and her husband had not been invited. She felt disgraced and humiliated. She thought it wasn’t fair to her and Sasuke.

She was deeply bothered by this and decided, “I am going to my mother. Why did she do this?”

Sasuke said, “It doesn’t matter to me. Why are you getting worked up? We are fine here. Why should we go to the festival?”

Sakura was so insulted that she wasn’t invited that she didn’t want to listen to anything. Although she knew she had fled from the Kingdom without her mother's permission, she was sure Tsunade still loved her like she loved Tsunade.

She argued, “No, I have to go. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe the invitation was lost. How can she not invite you and me? I am her daughter.”

Sasuke reasoned, “You left her for me. I don’t see anything unusual in not inviting you.”

Sakura stomped out of their abode infuriated, “My mother isn’t like that. I am sure she wouldn’t do this.”

Sasuke knew there was no point in arguing so he sent his most faithful snake Aoda as escort and pleaded with her not to provoke any incident.

When Sakura reached the huge gates of Konoha, she didn’t find any resistance, but the old familiar people were cold and inhospitable. She ordered Aoda to stay outside, and she walked towards the palace. She was trying to respond to the odd vibes that people were giving her by smiling at everyone while she made her way to her mother. The place and the people seemed to be changed, or was she changed? Perhaps Sasuke was right, but she was too stubborn to accept that. She ignored all the cold glares and mocking tones and went into the palace, still believing that there was some kind of a mistake.

“Mother,” Sakura greeted and bowed when she found Tsunade.

“Mother?” Tsunade spat back. Tsunade was furious. She never thought Sakura would have the audacity to show her face again and to call her mother.

“My daughter died the day when she turned her back on the Kingdom.”

Sakura was on the verge of crying out, because Tsunade made it clear that Sasuke’s words were the truth. She wanted to leave, but she didn’t. She wanted to know why Tsunade had always despised Sasuke. Why he himself, being a God, was not acknowledged by The Queen.

She asked Tsunade, holding back her tears, “How can you not invite Sasuke?”

Tsunade abused Sasuke in every possible way, and she added, “I will never have him step into my Kingdom.”

She could swallow her own pride and could take more insults, but she couldn’t stand more to her mother dishonoring Sasuke. Soon they were in the midst of a heated argument, and every passing moment made it clearer to Sakura that her mother was entirely incapable of appreciating the many excellent qualities that her husband possessed. She was consumed by rage against her mother and loathed her mentality.

The realization then came to her that this abuse was being heaped on Sasuke more only because he had wed her. She was the cause of dishonor to her husband. She was so crestfallen that her love had brought more hatred for Sasuke. Sasuke gave her love, yet she had brought him disgrace.

She was shaking with raw anger, tears welling out of her green eyes. She wanted others to acknowledge Sasuke like she did — pure and gentle behind his facade. She thought with her life she could show that to the world.

She didn’t want to be there, but neither did she want to go back to The Three Wolves Mountain. She walked towards the fire from where she was born. She didn’t want to live a life where her love bore hatred to Sasuke. Calling up a prayer, that in future birth, to be born in a house where Sasuke was respected, Sakura invoked divine powers and burned herself.

If she had to die and take birth again to restore his honor, she would die million times.

When Aoda came back and told him about what had happened in Konoha, Sasuke sat still for a certain period. He felt all the happiness, all the colors that Sakura brought with her fading — he felt his sanity leaving. How could he let Sakura go? How dare she do such a thing?

Sakura had given him love and a home — things that were unknown to him. How dare she leave for such an insignificant reason? She was his pride and honor, and he didn’t need any appreciation from others. How could she have misunderstood that? He didn’t need the pride which took her away from him. Thus he shed his sanity that was straining him to wreak havoc — he became fire. For the first time, he became disillusioned and decided to take revenge on the innocents.

Burning with incomparable rage, he used the mighty powers of his eyes and burned the whole kingdom using Amaterasu. They had provoked her to burn herself, hence he watched everyone and everything that had snatched his wife from him burn.

When the flames inside him and of Amaterasu had subsided, he realised how ungodly he had acted. He let his emotions rule over his actions, but hadn’t he given in to his emotions since he had met Sakura? Maybe he had always despised emotions, because he was afraid he would get drowned in them and could never manage to reach the shore again.

His work was to destroy the elements that couldn't be fixed. He was broken and his emotions were far from repairable. After the throes of romance, death and grief, he decided to destroy the emotions that had been born in him because of Sakura.

He had loved Sakura more than any and would never love after her.

He had allowed himself the luxury once and when it was over, he came out of it and went into an indifferent state again. He went into meditation for many years, deeply upset over the death of his wife, ignoring all his duties.

****

Every destruction acted as a progenitor. Within the barren and burned hectares of the Land of Fire, a small village was born after many years. The village was always covered in spring blossoms, and the people were merry, carefree, and had a profound belief in Gods and their power. They revered Sasuke most, considering him the progenitor of beginning that had given a chance to sow over barren land and produce bountifully. They were hard workers, but humble enough to believe in the grace of Gods.

Sasuke, unaware of the fact, still meditated, grieving for his wife. Still unaware that his beloved had already taken birth again...

Sakura was reborn as a human — the daughter of Kizashi, the leader of Haruno tribe and his wife, Mebuki. This time, Sakura, as she had wished, was born to a family where Sasuke was worshiped ardently.

Sakura, unaware of her past, the prophecy, and the tragedy grew into a beautiful woman. Many lords asked her for marriage, but she always denied them. She always had an innate feeling that someone already had taken her heart, but she didn’t know who.

When Kakashi came to know that the goddess had lost the memories of her previous birth, he appeared in front of her parents. Regretting the path he had taken last time, he confronted her parents about her previous birth, the prophecy, and the fate that linked Sasuke and their daughter.

Kizashi and Mebuki were overwhelmed with joy after knowing this. However, Sakura was skeptical about it and questioned Kakashi.

“Go to Shikkotsu Forest. The answers to all your questions lie there,” Kakashi advised.

Sakura, with her parents’ permission, went to Shikkotsu forest, and as she spent days under the canopy where she had found her freedom once, she learned from Katsuyu to whom her heart belonged.

The moment when she remembered all about her past, she grew restless. At once she left for The Three Wolves Mountain — Sasuke’s home — their home. When she reached there, she found Sasuke lost in meditation.

Years passed, but she waited for Sasuke to open his eyes and to look at her and realize that she was there — as promised.

But Sasuke was deeply lost.

Although a human this time, Sakura was still stubborn.

She sat there in spite of the bitter chilly winds that rattled her bones. She didn’t move an inch to gather food even though her stomach hurt from hunger. She didn’t blink her eyes in spite of how much they threatened to close because of exhaustion.

Perhaps love was invincible — the strongest force that again moved the coldest heart.

Sasuke opened his eyes after many uncountable years. Something that he couldn’t pinpoint had stirred him out of his deep state. He rose in fury. How could anyone dare do that? Wasn’t tricking him once enough?

He swore he would see the death of the person who had disturbed him. He walked outside to see a lady whose head and shoulders were covered with snow, shivering.

His brows knitted in irritation because no one had stepped in The Three Wolves Mountain except Sakura.

The lady straightened herself, feeling his presence. Sasuke wasn’t ready to listen to any of her justifications.

Because no had stepped in their abode except Sakura, and no one would.

****

Although he was elated to see her again, what Sakura has done was unforgivable. Sasuke was bewildered. All these years of abandoning his emotions fell away when he felt a surge of love and hatred, fear and longing, hurt and comfort coursed through him.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to live with regrets and guilt earlier,” Sakura confessed to him, filling up the details of the past.

He realised the diamond mark on her forehead was gone. She was still beautiful and the smile he had longed to see was still graceful. Undoubtedly, she was Sakura, his wife. She was no longer a goddess though. She had sacrificed her divine powers for him.

He was scared to lose her again. He didn’t want to believe in the prophecy that had once taken Sakura away from her, but he listened peacefully to everything.

“This time will be different. Trust me, I'm not leaving you anywhere,” Sakura smiled, and assured Sasuke.

Who was Sasuke to defy her plea? Their love was weaved in the form of prophecy which defied cycles of lifes and deaths. No matter how far they go, they are bound to be together at the end.

[g0ttal0ve101]

Eddie if Zack/Someone killed Lucian :)?

.

Heh. Pain.

🤍

Eddie gazed at the water crystal blue water, smiling softly. Making graves earlier today had him in a good mood. Now that it was night, he managed to sneak out before Albert could come beat him and relaxed by the small stream that laid near his pet cemetery. Although he was supposed to be calm, something in his heart was tugging. Almost as if something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what. Something deep inside worried him.

"Ed...Eddie..."

Eddie's eyes widen as his head whips to the left of him. He heard a faint cry from further down the creek that sounded awfully like someone he knew. The feeling of dread he felt before was now coming a reality. He quickly stood up and rushed towards the voice, his eyes meeting with a sight he could have never imagined.

Lucian's bloody body laying on the luscious green grass, staining it with a crimson red. His pale skin seemed even paler underneath the moonlight. Of course, Eddie dropped to his knees and immediately helped him sit up, seeing blood pouring from his head. So much blood.

"L-LUCIAN!" Eddie cried, unwrapping his red scarf from around his neck and trying his best to stop the bleeding. His eyes swept down his entire body, seeing he was wounded practically everywhere with glass shards sticking from his limbs. Despite looking like a ghost, Lucian laughed softly with tears rolling down his cheeks. "L-Lucian! What happened?!"

"Am...Am I gonna...die, Eddie?"

Eddie's heart jumped to his throat. From the amount of blood he was losing...

"N-NO! SHUT UP, YOU'RE NOT GONNA DIE!"

Lucian laughed again, this time even weaker. "Marigold...my dear marigold..." he fell into Eddie's arms, holding him with all the strength he had left. "It's okay...I...I wanted...to come...here so that...you could bury me..." Eddie didn't know what to do. He was so shocked that he couldn't even move or think. Everything was going in slow motion. "...Y'know...I...I...always liked you...more than..."

"L-Lucian...! Please, no! Please...please, stop it! You're not gonna die! I-I-I won't l-let you!" Eddie let him go and rested him against the trunk of a tree, sobbing out of control. "N-No...no...!"

Lucian gazed deeply at the crying boy. He could feel the blood pouring from all of his wounds which made him dizzy, however, he was more concerned about those tears of his. He was sobbing even though he would be the one to bury his childhood friend. For a moment, it confused Lucian.

"Eddie...it's...it's okay..." He reaches for Eddie's cheek, stroking it with his pale fingertips. "You don't need to...cry like that...I don't wanna see you cry..." Lucian then gave him a gentle smile. It seemed different from all the ones Eddie had seen, it was so genuine without any fault or concern. Pure joy to spend his last moments with Eddie. "Because...I...love you..."

Eddie's heart began to race with excitement. A mutual love that will last forever, right? All he had to do is make him eternal and they could share that feeling together until the end of time! That's what he would've thought if it weren't for those wounds. If he didn't do it now, Lucian would be stolen from him. He would die by the hand of his mother. That's not what he wanted, not at all.

Now...

Now.

He has to do it now.

Lucian's eyes grew more hollow than ever, the life seeping out of him. Eddie stood up and lifted his shovel, panicking. The genuine grin Lucian made was turning to an unreadable expression.

He has to die now.

"Eddie..." Lucian's voice grew so weak that you could barely describe it as a whisper. Eddie's tears were continuously falling from his face into the flowerbed beneath them, staining their petals ever so slightly. "...does this mean...you love me...too...?"

"I-I do!" Eddie wept, his hands trembling more than ever before. He couldn't move from his standing position. In fact, he was so devastated that he could barely keep his balance. For some reason, he just wanted to hold Lucian close without having to do this. But he would become like that little bird if Eddie didn't kill him.

Lucian closes his eyes with a bigger smile. "I'm glad...hey, you know...you look...scared..." his breaths became shorter and shorter from the amount of blood he was losing. "My final moments...belong to you...and only you, Eddie...if you're afraid of...killing me then...you don't...have...to..."

"L-LUCIAN!" Eddie drops his shovel and launches himself into his arms. He cried into his blood stained shirt, his entire body shaking from the fear of being alone completely. Lucian kept his smile, wrapping his arms around Eddie and patting his head just as he used to do.

"...It's okay...it's okay..."

"STOP IT! NOTHING IS OKAY, PLEASE DON'T GO! I-I LOVE YOU, LUCIAN! I-I-I ALWAYS HAVE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"

"I-I love you t-too, Eddie..." Lucian choked, his tears mixing with Eddie's. No matter how he truly felt, he continued to smile for him.

"Lucian, please!" Eddie grabbed his shoulders and looked at him, seeing that smile. But...

He didn't see any life from him.

His body was limp as it rested on the tree trunk. No breathing, no heartbeat, nothing.

"Lucian..." Eddie's eyes were huge and his tears stopped. "Lucian...Lulu...? Hey..." his heart sunk further as Lucian's head rocked forward as Eddie shook him. No life whatsoever. The smile turned into a soft expression, looking as if he were only sleeping peacefully. Blood dripped down his forehead and onto Eddie, yet, no sign. "Hey...HEY! LUCIAN! LUCIAN, WAKE UP!”

But there was no reply.

“No…no…” Eddie held Lucian close, biting his tongue so hard that it began to bleed. He was trying to hard not to scream on the top of his lungs after all. Seeing his beaten body, he clenched his shirt into fists. “…Who did this to you…? Who…? Your mom…?” his voice fumed with anger. His chest felt tighter and tighter from being so enraged. His mind began to spin all in which had one solution.

. . .

“That’s it…” Eddie lifted Lucian into his arms, taking him to the meadow they used to play in as children. Flowers grew all around, little animals roaming, this is where he’d make Lucian happy. Then,

He’d do it better.

He’d make everything better.

Immediately getting to work, Eddie spoke to Lucian as he did before. As if he weren’t even dead. He told him every step he took to make this grave, what flowers he was going to pick, how bunnies and other small animals would roam around happily around the headstone. Overall, he overworked himself until his arms felt too heavy to even move. It needed sanded more, now it needed more detail, now it need more flowers, less flowers, the name should be fancier, the date needed to be more legible, over and over again. It had to be perfect. After all, he truly loved him. Ever since they were little kids. So…

He knew if he was gone…

“It’s done…” Eddie murmured, dropping his shovel and walking to his beloved. “…all done…” he then pulled Lucian into his arms and rested his head on his bloody chest. He still felt warm, but his blood was now drying onto his skin and clothes. Eddie didn’t want that. So, without a second thought, he stood up and walked to the stream, getting some water and rubbing the blood off of his body. He couldn’t get his clothes to be the way they were, but his pale skin was much clearer, as for his wounds as well.

Glass.

Eddie found glass in the gash on Lucian’s head, ultimately the cause of his death. Looking at the glass, he saw that it must have come from some sort of wine bottle. One huge smash to the head and poor Lucian bled out.

Eddie clenched his teeth. It must of been that rotten mother of his. Always intoxicated without a care in the world, it was her fault that Lucian died. All of her fault, all of it was!

“I’ll bury you now…” Eddie coaxed to him softly, giving him another hug. “then, you’ll be mine. I…love you, my dear Lucian.”

That being said, Eddie rested Lucian into the coffin he had hauled out from the shed, adjusting his hands to fold on his stomach and putting flowers in his white hair to cover the blood stains. He looked so elegant and beautiful, almost as if he was just sleeping. Slowly, Eddie grabbed the lid to seal him in before tearing up. This would be the last time to see him. Normally, he’d feel so overjoyed, but knowing how much pain he went through before dying just completely drowned him in sorrow. How terrible it was.

“I already miss you. I don’t think I can live without you..” Eddie whispers with a smile. “but I know I’ll see you again. I have no worries about that! I’ll see you…very soon.”

Pulling out his father’s revolver from with front pocket, Eddie puts the barrel up against his temple. “That’s right! I’ll see you right now! In our own grave, Lucian! Ours and ours alone! Isn’t it pretty?! ISN’T IT LOVELY?! HAHAHA, IT IS, ISN’T IT?! ALBERT, CARL, GEORGE, MOMMA, DAD, THEY’LL ALL FORGET ME! IT DOESN’T MATTER! AND SINCE I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH…! SINCE I COULDN’T MAKE YOUR DEATH BEAUTIFUL AND PEACEFUL, I SHOULD DIE TOO!”

And with that, Eddie pulled the trigger.

[polin-erospsyche]

The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)

Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it. 

Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕

Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home - 

a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???) 

This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.  

James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.

He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.

“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”

“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.

“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.

James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.

“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.

“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”

Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.

Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”

James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.

“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

James squinted. “Since when?”

“Since Paris.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.

“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.

“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”

James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you leave?”

Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”

“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”

“Yes.”  

“How could you not tell me?”

“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”

James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.

“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.

“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”

“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.

“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.  

“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”

James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.

“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”

Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.

“Forgiven for what?” James asked.  

“I can’t tell you.”

“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”

“Matthew …”

“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”

James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone’s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.  

“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”

Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.

“Matthew.”

“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.  

Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog

Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD