#five times softer than cotton

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Spaghetti Squash (The Surprise, Part 12)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, literally so much fluff, just fluff on fluff on fluff, some explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: As your pregnancy progresses, Emily starts to feel disconnected from the experience, sad that she can't feel what you're feeling. She tries to control what she can, but you help her see that letting go isn't the worst thing in the world.

Week 22: The Spaghetti Squash

“What about that one, Em? It’s pretty.”

You pointed to Emily’s laptop screen, at a nice, oval crib, made of natural wood. Very modern looking. 

“Honey, I don’t care if it’s pretty. I care that it’s safe.”

“Well, I care if it's pretty. Click on it and see!” you badgered her, yawning.

You leaned heavily on Emily’s shoulder, trying hard to keep your eyes open. You’d been scrolling through baby site after baby site for nearly two hours now, checking things off Emily’s ridiculously extensive shopping list. Normally, you’d be interested. The problem was that Emily had to do a solid half hour of research into each and every item.

“Bossy…” Emily mumbled, lifting up her arm so you could snuggle into her chest. She scrolled through the page, looking at all of the crib’s features.

“Look!” You pointed at the screen. “It converts to a toddler bed and a kid bed. So it can grow up with her.”

“And it’s GreenGuard Gold Certified!”

“Wow.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Adorable.”

“Hey,” she protested, pinching the skin under your arm. You squirmed and giggled. “I’m keeping him safe. You can keep him cute.”

You yawned again, shutting your eyes for a moment and sinking into her.

“Y/N,” Emily cooed, cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb against it. “Stay awake, baby. You promised we’d get through five things tonight.”

You groaned, noncommittal.

“Y/N,” she prompted again, this time patting your face lightly.

“I didn’t know it was gonna take literal hours…” you grumbled.

“Here,” she said, lifting you up a bit and kissing your cheek. “You can pick what we look for next. Something fun.”

You squinted at her.

Her eyes were huge, and she had that hopeful, pleading half-smile that she knew would get you to do anything. As a final blow, she bit the corner of her lip. Fuck. She was just too irresistible, it wasn’t fair.

“Ugh. Fine.” You stretched and sat up as Emily placed the laptop in your hands.

“What do you want to look for?” she asked, looping her arm around yours and rubbing her thumb against your bare skin. She placed a quick kiss on your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck.

“Crib sheets?” you suggested, perking up. “I found a brand I really like.”

“Are they–”

“Green, gold, whatever-the-fuck certified?”

She blushed a bit. “Yes,” she said softly.

At this rate, you'd spend another hour and a half with Emily deep-diving on crib sheets.

“Emily,” you sighed, turning to look at her. “You are the love of my life and the mother of my child and I love you more than breathing. But for fuck’s sake, you’ve gotta cool it a little bit.”

Her eyes turned a little sad, a little embarrassed.

You continued, a bit softer now. “I know it’s just because you love her and you want to keep her safe. And I know it’s hard for you right now because I’m the one who’s carrying and I can feel her moving and this is the only thing you can control. But, baby, I promise you that a couple of 100% organic cotton crib sheets that might not have that super special certification aren’t gonna kill her.”

Emily was quiet. You turned to hold her face in your hands, tracing her angles, all her lines–you knew them better than you knew your own body. She smiled a little as you brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead.

“Maybe you should be a profiler,” she chuckled, leaning into you and looking at the website you’d pulled up. “Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” you said, drawing her to your chest and tucking her head under your chin. “That was a little harsh.”

“No, you’re right.” Emily exhaled deeply and nodded. “Alright, let’s see these sheets.”

Your stomach did a little flip, excited to share one of your finds with Emily. So far, she’d picked most of the things, and you’d let her, knowing that the lack of control was hard for her.

“Okay.” You scrolled and clicked on a crib sheet, crisp white and covered with tiny dinosaurs. “I mean, look! It’s got little brontosauruses!”

In a rare show of letting go, Emily squeezed your arm and said, “Add it to the cart.”

“Really!?” you squealed.

“Yeah, of course, honey. It's cute.”

You kept scrolling, but Emily stopped your wrist. “Oh, baby, look at that one! It’s got bananas!”

“Adding it,” you decided with a dramatic click.

After a few more minutes of looking through crib sheets, you’d placed your order and shut the laptop for the evening, proud to have made it through all five of Emily’s predetermined list items. You knew you both needed to go to bed, but you were just so comfy sprawled on the couch. Emily’s head rested on your baby bump, and you carded your fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so controlling about the shopping,” she whispered out of the blue.

“It’s okay, honey,” you said, softly massaging her head.

“No, it’s not,” she sighed. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t letting you pick anything.”

“Em, I promise it’s okay.”

She didn’t answer, instead running her hands along the side of your belly, as if feeling for something, anything.

“Has he been moving tonight?” she asked, her voice almost sad.

“Mmhm.” You hated to see her sad. You wished so desperately that she could feel what you were feeling. You didn’t want her to feel left out of the pregnancy. You didn’t want her to feel any less the baby’s mom than you were.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

You thought for a moment. “Mm… kind of like butterflies. Or, like, when you’re nervous and your stomach does a flip.”

She was quiet again, and you pulled her face up to your chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head. “It’s gonna be okay, Em. You’re her mom, too.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

“You know, I think the baby can feel you.”

“What?” She lifted her head a bit, looking at you quizzically.

“Maybe you can’t feel her yet, but I bet she can feel you. She can hear you, and I read today that babies feel their mom’s emotions.”

Emily looked up at you, her eyes shining a bit.

“I always feel happy and safe and loved when you’re with me. And that’s what she feels, too. She can hear you and she feels those things when you’re around because I feel them. So she knows you’re here. She can feel you.”

Emily blinked back a few tears and pressed her face to your stomach, planting a few kisses on your baby bump.

“I love you,” she whispered to your stomach, and you thought you might cry, too.

“Can you hear me, little one? I love you. Maman loves you so much.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry, trying (and mostly failing) not to let your overwhelming love for this woman turn you into an absolute puddle. For neither the first time nor the last, you were utterly flabbergasted that this was your life. That there was a baby inside you, growing strong and healthy. That the baby would have two moms, something you’d never thought possible when you were growing up, imagining your future. And, best of all, that you had Emily. Sweet, strong, beautiful Emily. Who loved you so well. Who made you so happy you sometimes thought you'd explode with it. How did you get so lucky? How was it that, despite it all, despite all the tragedies, big and small, along the way, you’d somehow stumbled into a life so good that it was, quite literally, beyond your wildest dreams?

“I love you, Em,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself or stop the tears from brimming in your eyes.

She looked up at you, and you could tell she was happy, truly happy. And if you could do nothing else in your entire life except make this woman happy, you’d die satisfied.

She sat up a bit, pulling on the collar of your shirt to draw you into a kiss. A soft kiss, one that you melted into, one that reminded you of your very first. All butterflies and excitement for what was to come.

“I love you, too,” she said, pressing her forehead to yours. “So much.”

[fairyyarchive]

Hey homegirl can u write ab fwb zoro and the reader wants to take a nap w him (preferably when he’s shirtless)… it doesnt even have to be straight smut i wanna feel the TENSIONNNN

ok first of all. absolutely omg. fwb w zoro is one of my fav things and I just love seeing him get a lil nervous around you because it's so cute <3 this ended up being a lot softer than I initially thought, so I hope you enjoy! <3 faye contains: fwb's reader + zoro, nicknames (darlin' from zoro drives me crazyyy ugh), mentions of sex but no explicit smut, cuddling, fluff, naps, shirtless zoro, fwb but they have feelings

sleep in the sun

Sometimes, life at sea could get a little boring. Sure, there were always new obstacles to overcome with the Straw Hats, people to help and fights to win (and one triple-armed swordsman to patch up) almost every day; but the in-betweens left you to entertain yourself. On a ship in the middle of the sea, all you could do to pass the time was reading, pacing the deck, bothering Sanji, or … underneath the aforementioned swordsman. 

Look, it’s not that either of you intended for this to happen, but with days at sea and only five other people to talk to and the tightness in your chest when he stood too closely behind you, it seemed almost inevitable that few drinks one night led to a kiss, a soft “C’mere,” muttered as his strong hands pulled you on top of his lap. 

Since then, a silent agreement between the two of you kept you returning to each other during sleepless nights and empty afternoons. It wasn’t exactly official, nor was it exactly public, but it was a closeness you both craved – a calm safety you’d never found in your travels alone. Zoro was strong and kind beneath the hardened exterior he’d built to protect himself, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said the sight of him shirtless and sweaty after a fight didn’t do a little something to you.

Today in particular found the two of you bored out of your minds; the others exploring and no doubt causing a ruckus the town at which you were docked. Feeling the effects of last night’s rendezvous and resulting lack of sleep left you and Zoro opting out of the outing, with the ship to yourselves and the warm afternoon sun and misty sea breeze creating the perfect weather to laze about in. 

As you wandered up to the deck of the Merry, you smiled softly when you found your green-haired swordsman lounging in a hammock, cotton pants tied low around his waist, and bare chest soaking up the sun’s warmth. His arms were folded behind his head, eyes closed. He looked so peaceful like this, the slight scowl he usually wore melted, taught muscles relaxed. You tried to ignore the tug in your heart when you saw him like this, a fondness that had made its home in your chest sometime lately.

“You asleep?” You approached him quietly, trying your best not to disturb him if he was.

“Nah,” Zoro opened his eyes, turning to face you. A lazy smile reached his lips when he saw you, hair a bit tousled and eyes gleaming in the light. His own heart panged at how beautifully the sun painted you, and he silently thanked the universe for blessing him with your company on the ship. 

“Can I … lay with you for a bit?” You bit your lip, suddenly shy. The man had seen you naked several times now, in various positions and much more embarrassing situations. So why did the concept of simply napping in the same hammock, mostly clothed at that, make your heart race?

Zoro cleared his throat, brows raised a little in surprise. Was he blushing too? “Ah - sure, yeah you can. C’mere darlin’,” he extended his arms to wrap them around your waist, allowing for you to climb into the hammock on top of him. 

You settled into his embrace, your head resting on his just above his heartbeat and his sun kissed skin warming you. Zoro shifted beneath you, getting comfortable with the added person to the hammock. His arms wrapped firmly around your waist and held you close, as if he thought you may float away from him if he didn’t. You breathed him in, all clean musk and sweat and bright citrus, with a bite of sea air. Warm, comorting, Zoro.

“Mmm. You smell so good,” you sighed against him. 

“Yeah?” His chest rose and fell in a soft chuckle, eyes already closed again as you relaxed against him. You nodded, nuzzling further into the crook of his neck and peppering soft kisses on the bare skin of his neck and shoulder. A soft grin broke across his face, the joy in his heart unavoidable with you on him like this. 

Your eyes drifted closed as the breeze ruffled your hair, your breathing beginning to slow as your mind drifted off to sleep. Zoro drifted off soon after, his breathing steady and heartbeat calm as he held you tight, a warmth in his heart that he knew always belonged to you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

let me know how you like this! I'd love to do more fwb with zoro <3 ty for all the love! <3 faye

☆.。. Masterlist

☆.。. Requests open!

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 6

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Eris and Y/N seem to have a knack for putting themselves in unsavory situations. Bonus: Eris has a flashback to the night they met.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Alcohol, Language, Attempted SA

Oh gods. I rolled over slowly only to be met with a wave of nausea and a killer headache. I blinked several times, enough to bring the bedside table into view where a glass of water and a hangover tonic awaited me - at least I had the foresight to brace myself for the impending hell that awaited me after such an intoxicating night out.

It was an effort to pull my arm out from beneath the covers of my bed - which felt so much softer and warmer than usual. I drank a few sips of water and the tonic quickly cured the unease in my stomach but the remnants of the headache still remained. My impetuous little shadows tugged at me to get out of bed but it was just so comfortable - tuning them out I yanked my comforter over my head and drifted back asleep.

——————

Eris

Eris started awake as Y/N roused slightly from her sleep, just enough to find the tonic he’d left on his bedside table for her. Several hours ago, he’d settled in a lounge chair on the opposite side of the bed after she’d spent an hour with her head in the commode, alternating between heaving and berating him for being a “shady motherfucker” all while he held her silken hair back and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Once she’d completely emptied herself of both the contents of her stomach and insults, she insisted she needed to bathe herself - managing to stumble into the bath tub with her clothes still on and demand “something fried and something bubbly, good sir.”

She refused to undress so he could fill the tub, so he left her there to her own devices while he torched some breaded chicken tenderloins in the kitchen - his fire power really came in handy in times like this - where a five foot whatever heathen was demanding sustenance ASAP. “High Lord my ass.” He mumbled to himself as he carried a tray of seltzer water and her fried chicken into the bathroom… where she was sound asleep in the tub.

Good lord, what had he gotten himself into with this beautiful mess. The mother only knew.

So he’d carried her to the bed, feeling a bit sleazy for changing her out of her dress while asleep but it was either let her rest in a liquor and vomit splattered dress that did everything for her curves and absolutely nothing for comfort… or change her out of it and into one of his cotton tees. Perhaps his male ego beamed slightly at the thought of her sleeping in his shirt but he assured himself that her comfort was his top priority.

He warmed the sheets using his fire magic and tucked her in before setting out the tonic and settling in on the lounge.

————————-

Y/N

When I reawoke, it must have been hours later. Whoever came in and opened the curtains could go to hell as the sunlight filtering in assaulted my eyes.

“Mother’s tits.” I groaned out as I stretched, careful not to turn my head too quickly in an effort of staving any sudden returns of nausea or shooting pains from the headache.

As my eyes slowly began adjusting to the damned sunlight, three things stood out. One: my shadows were swirling in front of me and intertwining with my fingers excitedly. Two: Someone was….cooking? In my bedroom. And as my vision fully cleared, three: This wasn’t my room, it was a fucking studio apartment.

“Owww.” I whined as I turned my head toward the direction of whatever greasy delight was cooking only to see red hair pulled up into a bun, a glorious muscular bare back hindered only by the tie of an apron, and delicious toned legs exposed by cloth shorts hemmed at the mid-thigh.

Mother’s tits indeed. Just when I thought the bastard couldn’t get any hotter.

An opportunist, traitor of a shadow shot away from me, caressing his arm as it handled a pan on the stove.

“Morning sunshine.” Eris purred, not even turning to look at me.

I scrunched my nose, lowering my tone into that of disgust - a futile effort to appear unphased by the sight before me “Why are you here? And where the fuck are we?”

“Always a pleasure to see you too, little one. Breakfast first?”

I desperately wanted to object but the bacon he was cooking smelled delicious and fuck if he didn’t look delicious too.

“Whatever.” I muttered, rolling my eyes at either his ability to tolerate whatever I threw at him or myself for being so internally captivated by the half-naked high lord cooking breakfast for me.

He didn’t need to turn around for me to feel the smirk forming on his lips as he began plating our food.

Breakfast was….. silent. Eris sat in a chair watching me with mischief in his eyes and I did my best to focus on the borderline ecstasy inducing combination of grease and whatever smokey, apple seasoning he’d flavored the bacon with.

After a long ‘bout of silence I finally gave in to his game. “Alright Eris,” His name rolled off my tongue like more honey and less venom than intended. “I’ll bite. Where are we anyway? And how?”

“I told you last night, little love. We’re at my apartment.”

Hazy memories rolled back just a bit. A blur of red, a steadying arm, and-

“In Velaris?”

“Is it so shocking that I invest my funds into properties. How many palacial homes do Rhysand and Feyre have now? More than three, yes?”

I crossed my arms. A bit like a petulant child, yes, but it did the trick as it shelved my breasts perfectly enough that Eris was caught off guard. Good.

I leaned forward, the gap in the neck of my - his shirt allowing a glimpse of the unclothed breasts beneath.

“Quit deflecting.” biting my lip, I leaned in a bit closer tracing a finger along his jaw, over the stubble shadowing the sharp angles of it, my palm then meeting his cheek just lightly enough to make his eyelids flutter as he leaned into it.

A fresh wave of the hangover nausea churned through my stomach causing me to tense, slightly drawing back and breaking the trance I had him in.

Eris tsk’d “Uh uh, clever girl.” His eyes darkened as that stupid, perfect sly smirk of his crossed over his features. “You won’t seduce answers from me, though I do love to see you try.” Letting out a sigh that I could have sworn was a bit condescending he continued, “Had you not ghosted me following our delightful night after Starfall, you’d have known.”

“Perhaps Eris, had you not kept information from me and threatened MY High Lord with violence over whatever you’re keeping from me then I would not have resorted to such measures.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, one leg arrogantly crossed over the other as one elbow rested on an arm of the chair and the other hand’s thumb and pointer finger rubbed curiously at his jaw.

“And how- pray tell, do you know of such violent threats? Nothing came through my end of the bargain tattoo so I know that Rhysand did not inform you.”

“No. You should be smarter, High Lord, about what you say beyond established wards. You never know what little ears may be prying.”

Realization crossed Eris’s features as he pieced together who had heard him.

“I simply stated that there would be retaliation. Your High Lord would reciprocate similarly if there were facets of my end of the bargain being broken.”

I leaned closer, inches away from Eris’ face.

“You can tell me what information is so important that a bargain is required to withhold it from me - or I can leave now.”

I could have sworn pain crossed his face briefly before he cooly said, “I’d hate to see you go, my little shadow but I always enjoy watching you leave.”

“I’m sure you do.” I stood up, swaying my hips as I walked toward the door, powering through the lingering hangover symptoms.

“Taking my shirt with you?”

“Ah, you’re right. Best to leave the dirty laundry here.”

Facing Eris and making a show of so slowly pulling the shirt up over my head, giving a perfect view of the rise and the bounce of my breasts as I tossed his shirt back to him.

“Your dress is covered in vomit and liquor.” Hand gesturing lazily toward the dress hanging over the bathroom door knob.

“Guess you’ll have to stay a while longer.

And damn my stubbornness because this was not a battle I was about to let him win.

“I’m winnowing home, Eris. Fuck the dress.”

“Wards extend to the street, sweetheart.”

I faltered but only for a moment.

I’ve never been ashamed of my body but strutting naked into the streets of Velaris wasn’t ideal.

Eh - C’est la vie

I grinned. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled.

Was - was that jealousy? Possessiveness?

And with that, I strutted out of his apartment in only a lace thong.

“Wait!” He called but I didn’t miss a beat.

As I walked into the street, onlookers gawked but I paid no mind. “Y/N! Stop. Come back!” He yelled, grabbing my wrist right as I winnowed to the back door of my home.

“What the fuck was that?” Eris growled, voice low with anger and something else.

I turned to face him as he slung a jacket he’d grabbed on his way out over my shoulders, barely hiding my ass and doing nothing to cover my tits but it’s the thought that counts I suppose.

Had I not still been a bit inebriated from the prior night perhaps I would have remembered I had shadows at my disposal to give at least the illusion of modesty but -

I sobered up quickly as my father stepped out of the door in his leathers - likely headed to meet Uncle Cass before heading to Windhaven - only to be greeted by his mostly naked daughter and half-naked High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Icy rage and total discomfort crossed his features, his shadows shooting out to cover me.

The war of emotions was palpable as he clenched his fists, siphons glowing, eyes shooting daggers straight through Eris.

Eris tensed before dropping his typical arrogant bastard mask into place. “Greetings Spymaster.” An arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.

Father’s jaw clenched and his fists fought a battle of wills as if he’d beat Eris to a pulp right then and there. Finally he managed to ground out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

——————————-

Eris flashback

The prior night

Y/N let out a rather loud snore in her drunken slumber, stirring him from the sleep he’d just begun drifting off to. Her hair had fallen over her face and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and gently tucking it behind her ear.

“Mm, Eris” she whispered in her sleep followed by the slightest upward twitch of her lips.

Fuck - it was so hard sometimes. He wasn’t a perfect male but he did his best to do right by those he cared about.

Sometimes he had to distance himself from her to prevent himself from laying it all bare - tell her everything instead of letting her believe him to be the “sneaky motherfucker”. She was so young, sure in fae society five years, fifty years, five-hundred years age difference, nobody batted an eye but he’d lived so much life compared to her less than thirty.

Amusement and longing rang through him as he took care of her intoxicated ass tonight, reminding him of the night out that brought them together in the first place.

Lucien and Vassa were busy in the Day Court and Adish was going out with a couple of friends - visiting a new tavern in a recently modernized town in the northeastern territory of the Autumn Court. The town itself was safe but there were still the ocasional ruffians passing through. Lucien had requested that Eris send eyes out to ensure their protection. Something urged him to just go himself and damn, he’d never stop being grateful that he did.

The evening itself was boring. Mostly high fae but even lesser fae who had become adjusted to the “new era” ushered in with his reign came out to the tavern. There were harsh punishments for unjust violence within the Autumn Court now. Still, there was so much change needed but it would come in time. His people were rather set in their ways but a new justice system was starting to usher in change.

He nursed a beer in a corner booth, catching the eyes of plenty of fae nearby but managing to avoid the attention of Adish and his crew - which included Nyx Archeron and the little Shadowsinger who he’d heard was quickly rising in their ranks.

Nyx and Adish had both wandered off with a couple of gorgeous females with the classic red hair of his Court along with interestingly enough, Tamlin’s daughter. Layla - if he recalled correctly.

Interesting.

His attention caught as he noticed two brutes who were definitely not from here vying for the little Shadowsinger’s attention. He chuckled to himself as she waived them off, turning back to a group of females she’d stumbled out of the bathroom with. She danced without a care, holding one hand in the air as her shadows steadied her wrist in an effort to prevent spillage.

He’d give it to Rhysand’s Shadowsinger and the Archeron sister who nearly broke his brother’s heart, they passed down all of their best genetics to the stunning female on the dance floor.

The males continued irritating her, going so far as to cut her off from the group by dancing their way between them. She kept dancing but he could have sworn she was letting them cut her off, despite the obvious malicious intentions the males had for her. As they backed her to a quieter portion of the dance floor the larger male grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the door. She shook her head no but he kept pulling as the other male corralled her from behind. Eventually she waived off the grip on her wrist and walked out with them.

Fuck. He really had no interest in lighting anybody’s asses up tonight but someone had to get the trash out of his court. And despite the fact that he and Azriel were never the best of friends, his daughter deserved more than to be ignored due to their indifferences.

So he sighed, exited out the front door and strode toward the alleyway the other entrance had led to. As he rounded the corner, he came to a halt, lurking in the shadows and taking in a sight that he hadn’t anticipated.

The Shadowsinger sat unbothered on top of a barrel with an elbow on the knee that crossed over her opposite leg. Her face filled with complete and utter boredom as she rolled her eyes at the males bound in shadow before her.

“You couldn’t have just let me be, huh boys? I was having fun with the girls in there too.

I suppose I should thank you though. After all, you won me my next three rounds of drinks. You see, the girls and I had a bet on how quickly you’d give in to your sleazy nature.

One of them bet two hours, another an hour, and me? I know a pig when I see one. Less than thirty minutes from the first time you hit on me and, well, here we are boys.”

The males couldn’t speak through the gags her shadows had placed on their mouths but the rage was apparent in their squeals.

“Anyway, since you were so desperate to find release tonight, I’ve decided to help… remedy the situation.”

With a snap of the wrist and the exception of their underwear, their clothes disappeared while the shadows binds remained in place.

She gave them each a once over and a disapproving laugh, withdrawing the shadows that were gagging them.

“Alright boys, I’ve so generously removed your gags as a thank you for helping me win my bet. You may kiss eachother now.”

The males gaped. The burlier of the two seemed to lack the understanding of the fact that he was at the disadvantage in this situation. “You little whor-“

“Uh uh.” She wagged her finger. Shadows aiming at him like daggers. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. Not that it seems anyone ever taught you manners. Pity.”

The males were visually appalled. Glancing back and forth between her and eachother as if saying “what now?”

Both males fought the restraints to no avail as the little Shadowsinger grinned with amusement at the predicament she’d put them in.

“Honestly, I should just have my shadows castrate you. Would that be more appealing? You two seemed perfectly inclined to share me, what’s a kiss between friends?”

“Please. Sorry - just let us go.” The smaller of the two pleaded.

“Once you kiss - perhaps I’ll consider. Best do it soon though, I’d hate for the little situations beneath your underwear to be revealed to the patrons of this lovely establishment when my friends come looking for me.”

The males glanced once more at eachother, leaning closely in, still hesitating but resigning themselves to their fate.

When their lips were mere centimeters apart, she held up a hand. “Ah- just a moment, boys. We have company.”

Eris started at the comment. Looking down he found a shadow winding around his ankle - was he imagining things or was it almost playful?

“High Lord.” She mused. “How do you dispose of the trash in your court?”

Mask in place, he casually stepped out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets and a devilish grin on his face.

Her gaze fixed on him. Her beauty even more striking up close, and her scent - utterly mouth watering. And when his eyes met hers

Snap.

He knew then and there that he was wholehearted and irrevocably hers for the rest of his days.

He’d wait another 500 for it to snap for her too if he had to.

She was his mate. His.

————————-

A/N: Sorry (kind of) for always leaving you all on chaotic little cliffhangers. I hope the flashback made up for the torture at least a little bit!! 😏

Tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin

[heartbreakgrill]

kol mikaelson; give me love.

“maybe i should let you go. no, i just wanna hold you.”

a/n: this is literally 11.2k words god help me

in the year that your life had been plagued by supernatural existence, you had never once thought you'd find yourself, here, curled in bed with a throbbing headache, and thirst for hunger as vile as this. you never thought you'd find yourself dead, with vampires blood circulating through your dwindling system.

you could feel it pulsating through your veins, feel it ripening your shriveling heart. it pumped so oddly; you kept pressing your fingers to various pressure points, wondering where your pulse was. it was mute; yet you could feel your heart circulating the mouthful of vampires blood tirelessly.

so that's how you were to live now, off of other peoples blood. being as stubbornly independent as you were, you couldn't say that you were too pleased.

it had all started with a promise: a promise from caroline, to actually take the weekend off from growing crow's feet due to supernatural stress and instead go to the mall. but, first, she told you, she had to take care of some conflict with elena, stefan, damon, and a mansion full of the worlds oldest vampires. elena and stefan had also promised klaus that damon would stop trying to kill his family.

but, when you were out for your morning walk through the mystic falls public park, you were snatched out of your shoes by one of the originals, who'd been called on by klaus to ensure the security of damon's promise.

however, instead of just pulling back, damon pushed. he showed up to the mikaelson's mansion with five white oak stakes- consequently burned in the fireplace after they chained him up, tortured him, and forced him to watch as kol turned you.

you remember the heat of his hands, gripping you against his chest, over your waist and at your throat. your left eye was bruised, cheekbone probably broken. blood was seeping from a cut on your lip, one you couldn't stop running your tongue over with stress. and your head was pounding.

then, you heard the sick crunch of teeth in flesh as kol opened his skin to you. he pressed his wrist between your lips and, unwillingly, you swallowed a few drops of his blood. kol held you tighter while his other arm was occupied. then, just as your injuries started to fade, as the pain began dissipating, kol pulled your head back by a clump of your hair. he spoke to damon, while staring darkly down at you.

"she'll be a pretty one," he wiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning off his blood, only to slide his hands up around your neck.

your eyes widened, the fear in your stomach sending off the alarm systems through your body. time stopped as he squeezed your throat, and, holding visicous eye contact, he snapped your neck.

now, you were laying in your bed, having just awoken from death. you curled your legs up to your chest, squeezing them against you, as if you could find reality if you grounded yourself. as if this was all just a cruel dream. 

though you knew that was impossible- every single one of your sensations was on fire. the cotton of your bedding against your arms felt incredibly soft, softer than you'd ever thought it was. you could hear caroline's breath, though she was sitting five feet away from you. you could hear the rumination of her hair against her neck, each and every time she turned her head. she was flipping through a magazine and, that, combined with bits of sunlight seeping into your room, was driving you crazy.

"care," you hissed as she turned another page.

caroline's eyes shot up to meet yours, and a sheepish expression caught her face. "sorry."

stefan, taking up the corner of your room with a frowned face, shifted. "are you ready to talk about it?"

this was the fifth time in the past hour that you'd been awakened from the dead that he'd asked you this very same question. you shrugged, pulling yourself up against the headboard.

"not really," you whispered, knowing if you spoke any louder, you'd burst into tears. you never really let yourself cry in front of your friends, but you didn't know if you could help it this time.

you glanced around the room, at the ordinary objects from your humanity. your picture frames, decorating the bookshelf and dresser, felt like poison in your eye sight. you didn't even know if vampires could be in pictures. so there went your hobby of ruthlessly insisting your friends take pictures every time you did anything together.

who needed a picture to remember anything, anyways, when your memory would never fade?

it was like a cruel trick on you.

you swiped at a tear, and sniffled to regain composure when you noticed your cat's play tower was empty. "where's crow?"

stefan stepped closer, and he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "we took him to matt's house. he's going to take care of him until you're in control."

"and if i choose to die?" your voice croaked at the word, "will you guys take care of him, then?"

caroline jumped from her seat, pushing herself onto the mattress directly beside you. "of course we would."

you sighed, "i think i know my decision. but, i don't know if i'm ready for it to happen. i don't think- i can't stomach it."

stefan nodded sympathetically. "we have blood bags. elena's willing to let you feed, too. she feels awful about the situation."

you met his eyes, "does it taste- bad?"

caroline chuckled, and stefan looked to her to speak. "funnily enough, it tastes, like, really good. i mean, you won't be hungry for anything else, ever. so it tastes like survival and life."

stefan agreed with a hum, "we need it to survive. to live. it pumps our heart. so even though it will feel wrong for the first week or so, eventually it'll become normal. ordinary."

you took a deep, shaky breath. "can i have a straw?"

—

you plopped to the dirty ground of the forest, your knees sinking into the crust. you breathed heavily, though the usual burning of your lungs you'd feel after running for so long dissipated quicker than it came. you lay a hand to your chest, feeling the strength of your lungs. your heart beat sped up, too, enhanced by the strength that came from feeding.

you wanted both options you were given, one from stefan, the other from

damon. you wanted to feed off blood bags as little as possible. as a human, you'd had an addictive personality. you could only guess that would carry over, only enhanced, in death.

so you wanted to be as in control as possible. and you figured a split diet would help.

it had been two weeks since you turned. you felt stronger everyday. tomorrow, your cat would come home. you felt stable enough, especially since you'd been practicing holding him without baring teeth.

you mourned your old life everyday. but, having had no real attachments as a human, it was an easier transition. you and your mother were never close, so she accepted whatever excuses you had for never eating or sneaking out late. she didn't really care anyways.

but, a part of you felt something missing.

you couldn't tell what it was.

but, one week ago you'd had a dream about a familiar, murderous vamp.

you'd felt his touch in your sleep- his hands on your throat, around your waist. you woke up in a cold sweat, the skin where his touch had been on fire.

you kept it to yourself, knowing the response from the peanut gallery would be negative. they'd probably storm the mikaelson mansion, threaten kol to stop manipulating your dreams.

that had to be the only explanation- that he was manipulating your dreams. you thought he was attractive- but never, ever, in a million years would you let yourself dream about him.

stefan squatted beside you, offering a clean handkerchief. he pointed on his chin to where you had blood pooling. you smiled breathily, a short chuckle, and sheepishly wiped it away.

"you did good today," stefan complimented.

you nodded, "thanks. i still feel dead, but i feel a little stronger, more secure, every time."

"that's good," stefan encouraged. "each time you feed, as long as it's consistent, you'll feel that way."

you hesitated, afraid to voice your opinion in fear of sounding selfish. stefan tilted his head at you because he knew there were words on the tip of your tongue. you shut your mouth and shook your head, brushing off your sadness.

stefan set a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, supportively, "we'll get him. damon's finding more ash- and i want you to use the dagger."

a rush of adrenaline came over you. you shoved stefan's hand off your shoulder, "i don't want that, stefan. i don't want more death. can't we just leave each other alone? why does there always have to be revenge?"

stefan looked jolted by your defensive statement, faltering on his heels from your strength. you pushed up onto the balls of your feet, shouldering your backpack.

"look, do whatever you guys want, but leave me out of it," you raised your brows firmly. "i don't think anybody else needs to die."

stefan was more than shocked by this proclamation. he slowly stood, watched as you turned on your heel and sped away to your car. he could tell you were angered by any ideas of conflict. he knew as a human you had always been peaceful: you always went out of your way to make sure everyone and everything was okay. and you were always against any revenge plans. though you were never this vocal about it. maybe that’s what that outburst was- your want for peace.

but something felt off.

you slammed your car door shut, which made you flinch back in your seat. you pressed a hand to your chest, again, surprised by your strength, by the hammering of your heart. you took deep, whole breaths, feeling every part of your lungs expand and contract with every gasp and release. caroline had taught you this trick- ground yourself. anger made you hungrier, deadlier. and you weren't in the habit of killing anybody out of hanger. hopefully for forever.

why had you been so pissed?

you should be rooting for revenge against kol. you should be plotting maps and finding ash and storming his mansion.

but something within your gut denied any and all troubles.

you just couldn't get behind the idea.

something else caroline taught you was to focus on what made you feel good. in times like this, when anger took ahold and wouldn't let go, you needed to anchor yourself to what being alive was like. fake it till you make it.

so, you turned your radio up as loud as it would go, stepped on the gas, and drove. you let your mind shut off as you drove, twisting through back streets, laughing loudly as the car jumped over hills. for the first time in weeks, you felt normal. like an ordinary teenaged girl, putting your life at risk to feel the adrenaline of curving around bends and barely stopping at stop signs.

you didn't know you were going- but you had reached a dead end. the only way to go was back, or into the driveway before you. you recognized the stone-lined path, reaching far back into the tree line. you could see the windows of the house through tree branches.

how did you end up here?

the car inched towards the house, stopping just before the driveway curved into a circle around the water fountain. you stepped on the brakes, threw the gear shift into reverse, and slowly let your foot release. however, the car still inched forewords, the wheel turning towards right. you looked down at the gear shift and saw it in drive.

what the fuck was going on?

you threw it into park again, slamming so hard you whipped against the back of the seat. next thing you knew, your keys were in your hand, you were opening the door, stepping out of the car. you snapped out of whatever trance you were in. you glanced around, horrified.

"what in the world?!" you murmured to yourself. you turned back to the car and reached for the door handle.

"i was wondering how long it would take until you showed up, darling," a voice sounded directly beside your left shoulder.

you jumped against your car, fear sinking into your skin. kol towered over you, hands crossed delicately behind his back. his face held that familiar smirk, head tilted to the side with dark anticipation.

you shivered, crossing your arms around your stomach. "wha-what?"

kol stepped closer, forcing your chin further into the air as he hovered. "have you finally come to put a dagger in my chest? i'd have to waited until the sun went down, or brought myself one of those salvatore's. it's a little bold to come alone."

you shook your head, the wind blowing your hair in a mess around your face. you furiously brushed it behind your ears again, to no avail. "n-no. i didn't mean- i didn't mean to be here. i- i'm- i should go. i'm gonna go."

when you finished stuttering out your ill-thought-out response, you spun on your heel and stuck the key into the lock. you went to turn it to unlock it when you heard a gust of wind and felt his presence move beside you.

"aw, don't go. we were just starting to have fun," he sarcastically spoke.

you pulled the key out of the car, your hand dangling beside you. you didn't know what to say; but you wanted to stay now. you were intrigued by the dark look in his eyes, the scent of his smokey cologne.

"okay."

kol- usually locked in to his smirk and raised eyebrow duo- hesitated at your response. his face flickered with confusion, but he regained his stone cold composure and held out a hand.

"would you like to come in for a drink? i think i owe you that," he offered.

you shrugged, crossing your arms again. "sure."

you fell into step behind kol, following him into the mikaelson's mansion. you looked around warily as you stepped inside the house. kol took your purse from your shoulder- though you didn't remember how it got there- and hung it on the coat hook.

"is it going to be a real drink?" you grasped at a joke, feeling the tense, awkward air between you.

kol cracked that smirk, "well that depends. are you on the stefan diet? or are they feeding you well over there?"

you let yourself laugh, "both, actually."

kol guided you to the living room, where you sat on the couch. he moved to a bar cart, filling two crystal glasses with blood from a bag.

he tsked, "but that's boring. i thought id make another ripper out of you. well: have you at least drank from the neck? taken your first kill?"

you took the glass he offered you, replying as he sat, "no."

kol scoffed, "well, that won't do. every vampire kills at least ten people in their first week. it's been, what, three weeks, now?"

you took a sip from your glass, and you felt your fangs protrude from your teeth. you winced at the pain in your mouth and swallowed the blood. you touched the veins in your cheeks.

kol watched you as you gained control of your hunger. he looked concerned, though you didn't notice.

kol dipped his head down to catch your attention. "do you feel it? the hunger? you must know every time you drink from an animal or a bag that you're missing something? of course, we must do these things for security. but, we have to drink from the vein from time to time. the other options are just not enough to curb that."

you felt a hunger flood through your body. your fangs protruded again, the veins under your eyes rippling your skin. you quickly downed the rest of your drink, but the hunger didn't cease.

kol's arm had rested on the back of the couch, and he moved his thumb to touch the tilt of your chin. "let me take you out sometime. i'll show you how to really hunt. you have to be dangerous sometimes- it's just our nature."

an emotion rushed through your body- a warm feeling. you turned your head to meet his eyes, "i don't want to do that. i don't want to kill anybody."

kol flashed his dark eyes at you, "oh, but you will."

—

you refused to share your visit to kol with any of your friends. you knew stefan wouldn't approve of his urge to drink from the vein; caroline would be pissed you went inside the house; and damon would examine it for any ulterior movies. you especially weren't going to tell them that you'd be going hunting with kol in the future. you didn't really want to; but you had to go. something in you was pushing you to give in. to just do it.

but you feared they'd find out. either rebekah- whom kol told everything- would use your newfound companionship as a banter against your friends. or klaus would use it as a threat.

or you'd exploit your conversation by accidentally killing somebody. it was silly, but everyone knew it was true- you weren’t a killer, even as a vampire. it just simply wasn’t going to happen.

you kept resisting the urge- but throughout the school day you couldn't stop staring at people's necks. you wanted to pounce on someone in the hallway, wanted to sink your teeth into their skin and bleed them dry. you'd never felt this urge before- or at least stefan and caroline had helped you fight through it.

you wanted to confide in them, but something told you you weren't allowed to share the thought. so you fought it alone.

after school, you raced home, curled up under your covers, and shut out the world. you had to go to work later, and you wanted to call off, but you couldn't give up the normal parts of your life. you couldn't let the vampirism ruin your ordinary.

by the time it was time for work, you'd managed to curb your hunger. you arrived a few minutes before your shift started at the mystic grille, where you waited tables. you opened your locker, pulling from it your apron and notepad. you tied it securely around your waist.

the door to the break room swung open and your coworker, georgia, bid you hello. you smiled back at her. but as you turned to say hello back, you felt your teeth expand and the blood rush through your eyes. you went hot with hunger, and you slammed your upper body into your locker.

georgia flinched, "are you okay?"

you heard her take a step forward, so you held out your hand, "no! stay- stay away! go away from me!"

georgia, helpful by nature, stepped closer to you. she set a hand on your shoulder, "y/n, what's wrong?"

as soon as you felt her warm hand on your shoulder, you snapped. you slammed her up against the locker, baring your teeth at her. "i said stay away! i can't control it!"

georgia yelped in response, the fear in her eyes blowing up her pupils. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry- please don't hurt me!"

you growled at her, eyes raking down her face to her exposed neck. of course she wore her hair in a ponytail today.

you wanted to turn away; you had learned all the necessary skills to gain control. but something in your body, in your mind- it screamed at you to feed. you pounced on her, sinking your teeth into her skin, and beginning to suck her dry.

when she went limp in your arms, when you felt no more blood flowing out of the punctured holes in her neck, that's when you snapped back to reality. you dropped her body, screaming at the sight of blood soaking her shirt, soaking your hands.

you turned to the side, wiping your hands on your apron, away from her body, and you caught your appearance in the mirror in your locker. you were sobbing, the tears streaking through the blood covering your mouth.

you grabbed your coat and purse and, without thinking any further, you sped out of the grille. of course, just when you stepped out the front door, you ran into caroline. she was walking with tyler, laughing at something he'd said. when she knocked into you, she steadied you by grabbing your forearms. then she noticed the blood- all of the blood.

caroline and tyler had an understanding, established with just the flicker of eye contact they made. caroline sped you two out of there, to the boarding house, within seconds. tyler went to, probably, clean up your mess.

as soon as she opened the door to the house, you pulled from her, and fell to your knees. you sobbed into your hands, though the blood left on them made the hunger creep back up again. caroline leaned down beside you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

"it's okay, y/n," she soothed, "shhhh, it's okay."

you wanted to give in to her comfort, but you pushed back, your force so strong that you ended up with your back against the wall.

"no!" you growled again. "no! i killed somebody, caroline! i killed her! oh, my god, i killed her!"

you slid down the wall, sobbing into your hands. stefan, damon, and elena entered the room, taking in the sad sight of you. you smelled the blood on your hands, and the hunger overtook you. through the tears crowding your face, you licked a single line down your forearm.

"i'm so hungry," you murmured, continuing to lick at the drying blood on your hands.

stefan took control of the situation as caroline came up short. she couldn't think straight, seeing you like you were.

he stooped down in front of you, laying a cautious hand into the air between you. "hey, y/n, hey- it's okay. hey, here, take my hand. cmon, let's go get something to eat."

you roared at him, causing him to flinch back, "i don't want another deer, stefan! i'm hungry!"

damon appeared beside him, holding a blood bag delicately between his hands. he offered it to you, a sad smile on his face. "i never much cared for the vegetarian lifestyle, either, y/n. there's nothing to be ashamed of."

you took the blood bag from him, only to throw it across the room. it splatted against the wall, sliding in cruel fingers down the wall. elena flinched at this, holding securely to her necklace.

you shot up from your spot, standing like a rock against your friends. "it's not enough! it's not enough, damon! i'm hungry!"

your tantrum lasted another hour, in which you nearly attacked elena, threw stefan into the billiard table, and stabbed damon with a broken leg from the coffee table.

caroline had snuck away in time to call bonnie, who arrived just in time to cause an aneurysm in your head. you fell to your knees in pain, which worsened as damon stuck a needle full of vervain into your leg. you passed out on the rug of the entryway, and woke up on the basement, locked away.

you curled up in the corner, leaning against the cool brick of the wall. your head was pounding, and your veins were cramping with hunger. you could smell stefan's cologne, bonnie's blood on the other side of the wall.

"what's going on?" you whimpered, brushing the dirty hair from your face.

bonnie's face appeared in the frame of the door. "y/n?"

you stood up shakily, slowly walking up to the door. everything hurt. probably the vervain. or the hunger.

you leaned against the door. bonnie smiled at you, though it was downcast, and her eyes were watery. "what's going on?"

she sighed, "we don't know. i've been looking through my grimoires for days. alarics doing research. we don't know."

"wait," you perked up at her word choice, "days?"

"yeah you keep going in and out of it," bonnie shrugged.

stefan appeared beside her, "we've tried to feed you a blood bag or blood from an animal, but you won't take it down. it doesn't even make your teeth come out. you keep saying it's not enough."

"so you lock me up?" you laughed shakily.

stefan nodded, setting his hands on his hips. "yeah. but, we're going to take you out now. we're gonna let you feed off of somebody. make sure you don't kill them. then, we're going to see klaus."

you furrowed your brows, "why?"

bonnie shrugged, "he's the oldest vampire ever. he might have some answers."

—

they held true to their promise. they let you feed off matt and, as you did, you began to bleed him dry. stefan and damon managed to hold you back- and you kept it down. you felt the hunger creep up your skin, but you managed to shove it down. you kept control. it wasn’t as bad.

with an apology to matt and a rag to clean your lips, you headed to the mikaelson mansion for the second time that week. you wondered if you should tell them about your interaction with kol, but you decided against it. they'd blow it out of proportion.

but, you couldn't stop thinking about how he told you that the blood bags and animals would never be enough; how you'd have to kill.

and how, ever since that moment, those words had been defined every action you’d taken that week.

klaus welcomed the three of you inside with a sardonic, "ah, back with more questions. i'll try not to remember this next time you shove a dagger in my heart."

stefan smiled sarcastically, as you three followed him into his painting room. klaus had been brushing paint across a canvas, and he went back to that as you three stood before him.

stefan, always the spokesperson, began, "she can't keep anything down. not the blood bags or the animals i've hunted. the only thing she drinks is blood when it's straight from the vein. it’s just started, though. she'd been extremely disciplined, and now she's turned murderous. she doesn't want to kill anybody, and that characteristic has been enhanced by her vampirism now. so, we don’t understand why it’s turned into this.”

klaus chuckled, "stefan, we vampires have to kill..."

you weren't listening. at first, you simply circled the room, admiring the paintings. then, as you rounded back to the open door of the room, you felt a tug in your chest, similar to the one from the other day, when you'd accidentally driven here.

you snuck out of the room, their voices fading behind you as you descended the staircase. you'd never been here before- but you knew where you were going. you walked past every door and only stopped outside the one at the end of the farthest hallway.

your hand reached for the doorknob, but you snapped out of your trance before you could turn it. the urge took over again, though, and you resigned to knocking.

"come in!" you heard that familiar tone, though it was much more casual than normal.

you did as he asked, stepping into the room as the door swung open. you were jarred by his state- instead of his usual jeans and jacket combo, kol was laying casually in his bed, pajama bottoms adorning his lower half, and a hoodie on his upper. his hair was messy, swinging in front of his forehead.

he had his arms crossed behind his head. you eyes raked across them, across the veins in his hands. you thought back to a few weeks ago, when he’d turned you. when he’d held you flush against his chest with those hands-

your heart skipped a beat as he looked from the television, to you. he had started to say, "beks-! i've just discovered a genre of movies called-"

he met your eyes, and stopped dead in his sentence. kol sat up out of bed, confusion lacing his features. he was too taken back to have anything witty to say, so he just said, "hello, darling."

you took a deep breath, your brows furrowing as it released from your lungs, "i killed somebody."

the part of kol was that murderous, the part that reveled in sucking humans dry of their blood, wanted to say he told you so. but he noticed the look on your face and he said, "well, are you okay, then? you don't look so well."

kol moved closer to you, concern lacing his features. you shook your head, "i'm really hungry."

there were tears in your eyes, yet you laughed. kol shared a smile, a genuine smile, at your statement.

he stood in front of you, now, and he arched a brow. "well, eat, darling."

you nodded, "okay...what?"

kol laughed, a delicate sound despite his dark composure, "well, a human, love."

you nodded, again, more enthusiastic this time. "i really don’t want to. but, you’re right. i don’t think i have a choice…yeah, i'm going to go do that."

you went to turn away from the room, but kol cleared his throat. you faced him again, "yes?"

"aren't you going to invite me?" that familiar smirk adorned his features.

you smiled sheepishly, "well, duh. do you wanna come?"

kol nodded with a viscious look in his eyes- hunger. he glanced down at his outfit and raised a finger, "don't move, darling. i've got to change."

you don't know why, but you listened. as he raced to his bathroom to change into different clothing, you didn't move a single muscle. when he came back to your spot, he made a face at you. "i didn't mean it literally. you can move."

you let out a held breath, relieved. "thanks."

kol's mind reeled at the interaction. you began to walk out of the room, ready to go hunt. but he stood there for a moment with hesitation. what was going on here?

his mind raced over the options- but he refused to admit the obvious answer. it wasn't possible.

though he couldn't completely remove the thought from his mind, kol shook it off a bit and followed you out of his room.

you descended the stairs with excited feet, kol following along behind you at a quick pace. just as you reached the bottom of the stairs, however, bonnie, stefan, and klaus walked out from the room.

stefan crossed his arms, eyes flickering between you and kol skeptically. bonnie glared at kol, and said, "what the hell?"

klaus lifted his chin triumphantly, like he was pleased at the irony of the situation. "well, little brother. what's this?"

kol glanced at you, signature smirk on his pink lips. "just going out for a hunting trip, brother."

klaus nodded, arching his brow at you, "it's not often that a vampire wants to go hunting with the person who killed them."

you shrugged, looking between your friends and klaus. "it's just a hunting trip. i'm hungry."

kol hummed in response, "you lot have been holding her back from her potential. blood bags and little bunnies aren't enough for us. she needs it from the vein."

stefan hesitated, taken aback by this statement. "not enough? i manage to survive on bunnies just fine."

kol sighed, "yes, but you're not reaching your full potential. i intend to make sure everyone i turn is strong, stefan. isn't that right, darling?"

you never took sides. you always managed to find peace between either party in a situation like this. bonnie and stefan looked at you expectantly, ready for whatever peace treaty you'd offer.

but you shocked them by saying, "right, kol."

"now, why don't you let me and my new friend to enjoy ourselves, okay? shall we?" kol held out an arm, waiting for you to lead the two of you away.

you smiled at bonnie and stefan, but there was no remorse in your eyes. you looked different, darker.

they watched you two leave the house. bonnie turned to stefan, worry swimming in her eyes, "stefan? what was that?" 

he looked to klaus, whose own gaze looked curious. like he knew something nobody else did.

klaus opened his mouth, but craved the anticipation of the moment to linger. he licked his lips, sighed, and said, "you'll figure it out soon enough. in the mean time, she'll be safe with kol. he really isn't all that bad unless you give him a reason to be."

stefan and bonnie looked jarred as he walked away from them, whistling a happy tune.

what the fuck?

—

that night, you went bar-hopping with kol. at each one, he properly trained you on how to snatch, feed, and compel. by the end of the night, you felt better- much stronger that you did after drinking bunny blood.

as you downed shots, chasing it with human blood, you loosened up and let slip the dream you’d had about kol.

“so, are you in the habit of manipulating people’s dreams?” you laughed, looking towards him as you set down your empty shot glass.

he furrowed his brows, “what’s that, darling?”

“i had a dream about you the other day,” you shrugged, “obviously. i think that’s why i showed up to your house.”

kol’s mind reeled again- “that wasn’t me, darling.”

he ignored the idea again.

it couldn’t be.

he regained his smirk, leaning over you slightly. you really were pretty- gorgeous in the dim light of the bar. the light flickered off your pupils, shimmering in them.

“is this you admitting you’re attracted to me? that you dream about me?”

you blushed deeply. “n-no-“

“don’t worry,” kol leaned into you, lips brushing the tip of your ear, “i’m attracted to you, too.”

later, kol, who had driven, pulled up to your house, stopping on the side of the street. he rested his arm on the back of your seat, twisting to face you.

"well, today was fruitful. don't you feel better? isn't the hunger gone?" kol questioned.

you thought about it for a moment- the hunger that had been there for days now dissipated. you felt fuller. better, like he said.

"yeah, i-i do," you admitted. "can we do this again? soon?"

kol nodded contently, "i would like that very much. my siblings are boring. and none of them are as pretty as you, darling."

you blushed at his admittance, "well, tomorrow, then?"

kol hesitated to say yes. but something in his stomach twisted, something warm and soft and reminiscent of butterflies. he chewed on his bottom lip, eyes swimming with thought.

he met your gaze again, his brown eyes softened from their usual cloudy disposition. you blushed deeper at the way he peered at you.

"actually," kol spoke, "tomorrow...i'm going to take you out. hunting is only fun for so long. i'd rather go on a date."

your nose scrunched up in glee. "okay. that sounds good."

kol leaned across the space between you. he brushed the hair away from your face and placed a soft, sweet, lingering kiss to the apple of your cheek.

—

the next day, caroline called you at 2pm. you answered with a peppy beat in your voice, "hey, care!"

she scoffed down the line, "don't hey care me, missy! what the hell do you think you're doing?"

you furrowed your brows, "what do you mean?"

caroline laughed bitterly, "get your ass over to the boarding house right now so you can explain to me and everybody else why you're running around with kol mikaelson like some little blood skank."

you giggled at her choice of words, "o...kay. i don't really understand why we're all so upset about this- but i'll be there."

you made it over to their house within minutes, so high on your strength that you ran the whole way there. when you entered the living room, everyone was standing around, for you. jeremy, bonnie, matt, alaric, elena, stefan, damon. and caroline-

she grabbed you by the forearm, tugging you down into the conversation pit and pushing you into the couch. she hovered over top of you, hands on her hips and a grimace on her face.

"explain- now!" she demanded.

you stuttered over you words, licking your lips nervously. "i don't know what i have to explain. i haven't gone on a ripper rampage. and yesterday was an accident. so why am i being put on trial here?"

damon crossed his arms over his chest, "maybe because you're running around with the worlds deadliest vampire like he’s a frat boy and it's spring break in florida."

you felt defensive, and snapped back, "oh, cause you're so innocent, damon. remind me again, what's your body count? oh, sorry i meant kills- not fucks. though i'm sure they're both up there."

alaric chuckled at this, and everyone glanced at him with annoyance. he shut his mouth, and scrunched his face in apology.

"you have to be careful around him. we don't know if had any ulterior motives, y/n. he could turn around and kill you at any moment," stefan explained to you like you were a child.

you crossed your arms, "oh, my god, you barely know him! you guys always just assume the worst out of people. ever think that every single time he's hurt someone has been because he's been threatened? he's in the same position as any of us. he's just the anti-hero, so you won't let it go."

caroline leaned forward and literally flicked you. "stupid! you're stupid! you were so smart as a human!"

"yeah, well i'm dead, caroline! and for some reason i can't drink blood bags or stupid little rats off the forest floor. at least, instead of dallying around, looking for answers, kol is helping me!"

you shoved caroline out of the way, standing from the couch, and storming towards the door.

"where are you going?" bonnie shouted after you.

you turned towards the group with a defiant smirk on your face, "i have a date."

—

kol picked you up from your house at exactly 7pm. he stood at your front door with a small bouquet of flowers, and since your mother wasn't home to invite him inside, he waited while you put them in a vase.

while you were inside, your cat, crow, slinked through the open door of the house. he peered up at kol coyly, purring lowly. kol heard the animal and looked down to it. a genuine smile reached across his face, and he leaned down to pick the creature up in his arms.

“well, hello, there, darling,” kol soothed. he ran his fingers through the cat’s fur, enjoying its presence while you were gone.

you appeared in the doorway, and a cheeky smile adorned your features. “that is so cute.”

kol blushed- he actually blushed- and let the animal jump from his arms. crow brushed up against your legs before escaping inside.

“what’s his name?” kol inquired as you shut the door behind you.

you fell in step towards the car as you answered, “crow. i got him when i was a baby. he’s nearly 17 now.”

“so you’ve had him too ur entire life?” kol remarked.

you paused, sad, “had him. had him my entire life, yes.”

kol stopped in his tracks, and turned to you. “i’m sorry- sorry. i’m sorry for turning you.”

you shrugged lightly, smiling sadly at him, “sometimes, when we’re in tough positions, it feels like there’s only one decision we can make for ourselves. it’s only after that we realize we could’ve chose a different path. it’s a mistake- it was a mistake. what you did. but i forgive you.”

kol was stunned by how eloquently you spoke. he smiled, “you- don’t you miss it?”

you peered at him, tilted your head. “being human?” he nodded. “no. i can’t say that i do. i don’t like feeding off of people. but i don’t miss it. i don’t know why. being a vampire is miserable sometimes. but i guess if i spend every day for the rest of eternity, wishing things were different, i’d never find peace.”

kol hugged you right then and there. he quickly threw his arms around you, squeezing you tight against his chest. you giggled, slightly, but hugged him back. though his lips were tangled in your shoulder, in your hair, you heard him whisper, “thank you.”

—

at the mystic grille, one of your coworkers seated you towards the back, per your request. no one knew georgia was dead yet. tyler had compelled her mom and dad to think she went on a trip, and that's what the story was for now. another death, another memorial, was too much for the town right now.

you had told kol about death last night, had even cried, but he reminded you that it was necessary. that you would have all of eternity to live in memory of her. and you carried that with you.

the entire night went beautifully. kol was a perfect gentleman the entire time. he never interrupted, and he listened intently as you rambled. though you don't get much food, he still paid for what you did order.

at one point, your phone screen lit up with a text from caroline, ‘where’d you go to eat? the serial killer cafe where they serve human hearts on a gold platter?’

kol didn’t see that, luckily, but he did see the beautifully taken photo of you, caroline, bonnie, and elena on your home screen.

he remarked, “that’s a wonderful photo. you look gorgeous.”

you blushed again. “thank you. it’s one of my favorites. taking pictures is a hobby of mine.”

kol sat up in his seat and demanded you show him more. you let him scroll through the album on your phone. he noticed you took a picture of something almost every single day- but that that had stopped since you’d transitioned.

“why don’t you take them anymore? didn’t caroline tell you to hold onto things like that?” kol questioned, handing you back your phone.

you toyed with it, sighing, “yeah. i’ve wanted to. i just- i don’t know.”

kol took your hand, “that’s a way to find peace. by keeping ahold of yourself. not letting her get lost in the transition. you’re still you.”

you smiled up at him, hesitated, before holding up your phone. you opened the camera app and put him into frame. turns out vampires do show up on camera- and he looked good.

“say cheese,” you giggled as kol’s face went slack with confusion.

“what does that mean?” he asked you.

you lowered the camera for a moment, “it means to smile! when you say it, you teeth pull back. so you’re smiling!”

kol laughed, “darling, that is a ridiculous expression. besides, i don’t want a photo if you’re not in it.”

he slid into the booth beside you, tossed his arm around your shoulders, and grinned as you pointed the camera towards you. you took three- one where you were smiling, a backup one in case the other didn’t turn out, where he didn’t know you were taking it- he was just looking at you with this romantic expression- and another where he kissed your cheek.

it all felt very wonderful. you didn't care if he had killed a hundred people in this century. you didn't care that he killed you, that he threatened your friends and poised a danger to himself and others.

you cared that the light hit his dark eyes in an inspiring manner each time he tilted his head. you cared that he thought you were interesting, that he listened. you cared that he loved the color green, forest green, like  pine trees and his car. you cared that his favorite place to travel to was ireland, though he hadn't been in a hundred years. that he wanted to go back.

you wanted to go with him. 

he pulled up outside of your house, and as you reached for the door handle, he sped out of the car and opened it for you.

"you don't have to do that. it's not 1910 anymore," you laughed, taking his offered hand and standing.

"yes, i do, darling," he disagreed with a sweet smile. "beauty like that deserves a gentlemanly touch."

you sheepishly smiled at him, "whatever you say, kol."

he offered his arm again, and you closed your hand around the crook of his elbow. he led you to the front door, continuing whatever conversation you'd been having in the car. as you stepped onto the porch, you slowly let go of his arm, and turned to face him.

"thank you for the last few days," you confessed, a deep breath sliding through your teeth. "tonight was the first night in a while where i felt- i don't know- ordinary. everyone keeps treating me like i'm delicate, like i'm small. thanks for treating me like an equal."

kol stepped closer, tilting his head with a smile. "you're strong, darling. they just don't know it yet. you'll prove them wrong."

"yes, i will," you admitted.

kol's mind flashed like it had the other day. you were so eloquent- your personality was sweet and kind. he was intrigued by everything you said. you were very individualistic.

but, you agreed with every single thing he said.

earlier, he'd told you that he absolutely hated olives. and you automatically acted disgusted. he pointed out that they were in your half-eaten salad, and you laughed. "i guess i hadn't noticed."

for the next ten minutes of conversation, you'd picked every single olive out of your salad.

but the way you were looking up at him now erased any doubt. you were probably just a people pleaser.

this, whatever was growing between you, was too real to be what he thought it was.

you stepped closer to kol, bringing his mind  back down to earth. he met your eyes and saw a certain hunger sparked within them. kol reached out his arms, letting his hands slide into a resting spot at your hip, and around your back.

your hands hit his chest, and they slowly snaked up to his neck. kol's eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, plump with desire.

you leaned in further and let your eyes fall shut. kol hesitated, staring at your restful face, heated with peaceful anticipation.

he ignored the sinking feeling and let his own gaze fall shut. he shoved his lips against your own, a passionate, feverish kiss that pushed your back up against the side of your house. you were breathless by the time he pulled back, and you wanted more. as you leaned into him, kol pressed your back into the wall further.

"not yet, darling. patience," he puzzled his lips against yours gently, eyes boring into your own. then, he tore apart from you completely.

you felt warm- hungry for more of his touch. you wanted to kiss him again. but he was right; you should wait. so you let your arms hug your body, like you we’re holding yourself back, and you took a deep breath.

"okay," you agreed with a short nod.

kol stopped at the top of the steps, watching as you opened your front door. you leaned against the frame, and he said, "have a good night, darling. don't think about me too much."

your mind blanked, and you cleared it of any image or thought of him. "okay."

kol watched you turn away, watched the door shut firmly behind you. he hesitated on the first step. he couldn't stop thinking about the way your face looked- about how serious you were in your response.

—

a month later, and you were all in.

you texted kol all day, everyday- through class, at home, when you were with caroline, bonnie, and elena. you'd gone hunting at least once a week. you'd been on exactly three dates. he'd kissed you four times.

you were all in.

kol stopped doubting your reactions as he fell deeper into it with you. he convinced himself, as anyone would, that was too real.

and he was right.

you were at work, having just delivered food to a table, when you ran into klaus. he was sitting down in a booth in your section when you made eye contact.

you rolled your eyes and walked up to him. "drink?"

klaus crossed his arms, "now, is that anyway to greet a customer?"

you sighed, wanting to groan and punch the table. "that's the way to greet a customer who's tried to kill your friends a million times over."

klaus looked pleased at the way he angered you. he pushed on, "yet you're so smitten with kol."

you placed your palm down on the table, leaning your weight into it. you popped a hip, settled your other hand onto it. "excuse me? did you actually came to eat or did caroline send you to berate me?"

"oh, love, i'm here on my own free will. just wanted to ask you a couple questions," klaus tilted his head towards the other side of the booth, urging you to sit.

you refused, "so; ask me."

klaus shifted in his seat, peering down at you, "do you do everything kol tells you to?"

a robotic response slipped from your tongue, one you hadn't even thought or wanted to say. "whatever he wants."

you bit your bottom lip, embarrassed by your response. klaus smirked at the answer, "interesting. is that why you can't drink from blood bags? from animals?"

"kol said..." you hesitated, "kol said they're not enough. he said i have to kill or hunt. he said i won't be strong enough unles i do."

klaus stood from the booth, swinging his jacket over his arm. he patted your arm darkly, "that's all i needed. thank you, dear."

you turned on your heel, watching as he walked away. you shook your head and urged the weird situation to roll off your shoulders.

but it was bugging you. every time you wanted to do something, and kol said otherwise, or every time he said anything at all, your actions would only reflect his choices. sometimes you felt like you had no control over yourself.

you chalked it up to being a vampire- maybe that’s what it was when you were in love with someone.

caroline waited around the corner that klaus rounded. stefan stood beside her, leant up against the wall with crossed arms. his features fell flat, dark. caroline looked stressed. klaus stopped in front of them, shrugging. "there you have it."

caroline locked her jaw shut, eyes narrowing, "she's sired."

stefan straightened, "how do we break it?"

klaus shook his head, "you can't. there's no spell or magic ring she can wear."

stefan looked at the floor and thought his way through the situation. "well, that's not technically true, is it, klaus? you chose not to release your sire on your werewolves. but you could have. you could have told them not to be sired. it's as simple as that."

caroline perked up at the idea, "a loophole."

klaus chuckled darkly, "good luck convincing my brother to do that. she's falling for him- that's the first girl in the history of the world to look past his darkness. he won't let that go."

caroline looked frustrated now, and she stomped her foot. "talk to him, then! convince him for us. make him see how wrong this is!"

"you've tried to kill me more times than i can count. why should i?" klaus peered at them.

caroline exhausted all her options, "i'll go on a date with you."

he agreed, but he warned as an afterthought, "the sire bond rules your actions. not your feelings. remember that."

—

kol sat at the grand piano in the living room, fingers daintily trailing across the keys. he glanced back and forth at the sheet music propped up before him, practicing.

he had just been texting you. you wanted to hang out- but you had homework to do. you told him you’d skip the assignment, rush it later and turn in a shitty draft or whatever essay you had to write. he told you that you shouldn’t put him before school, that you should focus and get that stuff done.

so you responded that you’d be shutting your phone off until it was done. that you wouldn’t be in contact.

and it clicked for him.

klaus slowly walked into the room, arms crossed over his buff chest. kol's fingers came to a stop as he heard his brothers foot steps.

"what?" he breathed out, refusing to turn to face his brother.

"we need to talk," klaus stated firmly.

kol knew why. he knew everyone would figure out eventually. he didn't want to admit it to himself. it was hard- letting someone in. but he'd done it, only to find out everything was fake.

he felt the hole in his chest growing, felt the darkness swallowing him up. love was lost in him. after spending eternity utterly alone, his hopes were being given up. 

and this would be the end of the line. because the universe was proving, time and time again, that he didn’t deserve it.

he wouldn't be able to recover after having to let you go.

so he would play dumb for now and revel in what bits of you he got to have.

klaus slid onto the bench beside him, his heart tugging for his brother. as much as he hated his family, he still cared for them. he hurt for them.

especially kol.

"i spoke to y/n today."

kol flinched at your name. he pressed the c key. "oh?"

klaus stared down at the piano keys, shoulders slouched. "kol...brother, she's sired. to you."

in one flash, kol hooked his fingers on the underneath of the piano, and flipped it across the room. it shattered against the wall, breaking the large picture window. pieces of wood flew out of the house, and glass and various other piano parts splattered across the floor. kol stood there, chest heaving up and down, and face hot with anger.

klaus didn't even flinch.

kol wiped at the spittle on his chin. he glared at the broken piano, at the sheet music on the floor.

yesterday, when he'd called you on the phone to tell you goodnight, he'd let it slip that he used to play piano. you had gasped, and said that it was amazing. that he needed to play something for you sometime. he had began practicing the second he got off the phone with you.

he was going to learn a song for you.

kol closed his fists, fighting the urge to hit something or throw something else. he growled, the veins protruding under his eyes, his fangs prominent.

he turned to face klaus, but held his head proudly. "i have to go."

klaus stood up, and reached for his brothers shoulder. kol skirted from his touch with another growl. klaus breathed out, "kol, you have to let-"

kol yelled in response. no words formed through his temper; he just yelled.

"let her go," klaus finished.

kol stormed out of the room, nearly breaking the front door to the house as he left.

klaus stood there, defeatedly, mourning for his brother.

—

you were with caroline, sprawled out on the couch in your living room, watching your favorite romantic comedy. she'd made cookies for your self-proclaimed girls night, and you shoveled microwave popcorn in your face.

caroline was talking boys, as always. she was complaining about tyler and his weird wolfy situationships, and about klaus and his charming- manipulative- romantic advances. you listened blankly, watching the television from the corner of your vision.

caroline threw a popcorn kernel at your face, "hello! are you even listening to me?" 

you perked up, meeting her gaze. "what-? oh, yes. i am listening. tyler is annoying and klaus is hot, but also annoying."

caroline laughed, but frowned at you, "i'm not allowed to agree with that."

"but you dooooo," you winked at her. "just break up with tyler. go be with klaus. he's hot, fun, dangerous."

"i didn't know you were suddenly into bad guys," she nibbled on the cookie in her hands, glancing between you and the tv. her eyes went blank as she went off on one of her tangents, "i mean, i know you being into kol isn't completely, exactly in your control. like, you're weirdly into him, but consciously you're not all there to question yourself like i know you would. it's still weird, obviously. youve just always been against bad boys. and, now- i don’t know- but what's with this klaus is hot thing? where'd that come from-"

"what?" you swallowed the popcorn in your mouth. your brows furrowed, confusion washing your features down.

caroline paused, and her eyes went wide. she tried to cover up her slip, "klaus. i mean why do you think he's hot? and why do you think i should go for him? he's killed tons of people-"

"what?" you sat up, the popcorn bowl spilling from your lap and into the floor.

caroline wouldn't meet your stare. she shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth so it was occupied.

"caroline, what do you mean it's not in my control? what does that mean?" you felt defensive, like you always felt anymore whenever someone would say something against kol.

caroline swallowed thickly, "n-nothing. i didn't say that, actually. i said-"

"caroline!" 

her head flipped towards you, blonde curls sprawling across her back. "okay...don't freak out. but you're sorta, kinda, maybe...sired to kol."

your jaw went slack, and you looked at her blankly. so many emotions rushed through your body- confusion being at the top of the list that you could decipher.

but it made sense. you loved olives. you never wanted to kill your coworker. you hated feeding off of human beings. you didn’t want to be okay about seeing kol.

you felt betrayed by your own body.

betrayed by him. had he known all this time? had he carefully calculated your actions in order to manipulate your feelings? was he just using you?

if that there were the case, why had he been so kind? was that his tactic?

so that was the reason why you couldn't drink blood- why you were unable to do anything but hunt down the locals.

you felt tears well up in your eyes. "what does that mean, care?" you didn’t know enough to truly understand.

"well? anytime he says anything, you automatically agree with him. you do anything he says," she spoke slowly, a strange rhythm to her usually frantic word choice. "but it doesn't affect your feelings whatsoever."

"are you sure?" you questioned, hopeful. "what if he was manipulating me into feeling this way? you're right- when i was a human, i would've never done this."

"i mean...i guess that's possible,"

she paused. she reached for your hand, squeezing gently. "but did he ever say anything to insinuate that?"

you didn't want to admit it to yourself now that you knew the truth.

but you were falling in love with him. and he hadn't told you to do that.

you were confused, speechless, because it was a terrible situation. if you admitted how you felt, he would think the entire thing was manipulated. that you were lying. but if he didn't know you were sired, and you told him, he'd eventually find out, and still think your feelings were fake.

was there a way out of this?

because as your feelings sorted, you’d hoped you’d be able to come out of this with him.

"caroline, i..." your voice broke. "i think i love him. i know it's wrong- and he's a monster. but i can't help it. the first day i went over there, i didn't know why. i just felt drawn to him, like i was supposed to be there. and every time he'd tell me to do something- every time my actions were affected by the sire, it felt like an obligation. i knew something was off. but every time i think about my feelings for him, every time i'm with him, and every time i look at him- i feel like i'm making the conscious choice to love him. like i wake up everyday and choose to want to be with him. and it's not a chore. it's real."

caroline's features softened. for the first time that you spoke of him, she was willing to listen. she was sympathetic. "i think you need to go to him."

you hesitated, but stood from the couch. "really?"

caroline's eyes were watery, but she smiled with a relieved-sounding laugh. "yeah. i think you do. i think you need to go to him and tell him how you feel. tell him the sire bond means nothing to you. just- tell

him what you told me."

caroline stood and you threw yourself into her arms. she squeezed you tightly, and watched as you left. just as your front door shut behind you, kol appeared on the porch before you.

you felt a relief, like him being there would solve all of your problems.

you swiped at your eyes, willing the tears to go away. "oh," you laughed slightly, "speak of the devil."

kol's eyes were dark, void of any of the light you'd grown accustomed to. he stood rock-hard, a solid force of nature, against you.

"we need to talk," he sneered. his jaw was locked shut, teeth pressed together angril.

concern laced your tone, and you reached out to him, "wait, what's wrong? what happened?"

kol breathed heavily, deeply, "stay back."

your body went slack, and you did as he said. "kol? what's going on?"

his eyes softened slightly at the distress in your voice, at the state of the situation between you. "you're sired to me, darling."

you were grateful for that nickname- that it was there at the end of such a cruel sentence. it was a comfort, an eye in a storm. it was his humanity shining through, no matter how hardened and devoid he thought he was.

you nodded, "i know. caroline just told me. but- it's okay. it doesn't affect my feelings. it doesn't matter. i lov-"

kol interrupted you fiercely, "no. it does matter. you never would've gone to dinner with me if you weren't sired. you never would've shown up to my house if you weren't sired. bloody hell- you would've killed me. you would've stuck a dagger in my chest if you weren't sired to me. your witch would've locked me in that cave for the rest of time. it matters, y/n."

you hated hearding your name. it was harsh and sad in this state. your chest ached with disagreement, but the sire bond forced you to side with him. you didn't want to- you tried to fight against it. but you didn't know if it was possible, or if you were even strong enough to fight it off.

"kol- no-!" you tried to interrupt.

"stop talking, darling," he looked defeated as he said it, knowing what it meant.

you watched tears spill out of his eyes, carving their way down his cheeks. it burned in your chest. you fought against the supernatural, trying to break from the bond just to hold him. to comfort him. to tell him you loved him.

kol licked his bottom lip, trying to regain composure. "darling- i have to- you are no longer bonded to me. you don't have to do anything i say. you will act on your own accord- you will feel on your own-"

as you fought against the bond, a 'no!' slipped from your lips.

kol hesitated, a spark of hoping lit like a match between you. he snuffed it out- "when i leave, do not come after me. i let you go- i'm letting you go."

you sobbed into the night air, chest aching in response to his words. couldn't he see? couldn't he see past the darkness? you cared! your feelings weren't affected!

you felt a physical and spiritual weight as you pushed against the bond. it shifted slightly- for a second, you stopped caring. for a second, you almost turned around and went inside. because he had released you. and he turned to leave.

but, you snapped out of the bond completely, choosing to keep fighting it off. for him.

“no!" you yelled, moving from your spot. you stumbled forward, but caught yourself on the balls of your feet. kol peered over his shoulder, but paid no mind. he simply thought you were released and we’re going to go inside any moment now.

he took a step down, onto the first ledge of the stairs.

"no, kol," you spoke, louder this time. "stay. please- stay. please don't leave!"

kol slowly turned back to face you. his face relaxed, shock displaying across his features.

"stay, kol," you sobbed, "i love you."

kol stepped back up onto the porch, his brows furrowing. "wha-what?"

"the sire bond doesn't affect my feelings. it didn't- the entire time. maybe i never would've come to you if it hadn't brought me to you- but i made the conscious decision to fall in love with you. i chose that! not you, not the universe just me."

"i can't-" he stuttered, "i can't believe you. it doesn't make any sense."

"but it does," you stepped closer to him, "how can it not? even more so now- you've released me from the sire bond and i'm standing here in front of you telling you i love you! that's my choice. it's my decision."

kol took a slow step forward. he reached his hands out, but dropped them back at his sides. "ho-how do you know?"

"kol," you laughed sardonically, "please believe me, kol. compel me, cast a spell! something. please! just please know that i am telling the truth. i love you."

kol almost did- he almost compelled you. but as you moved closer to each other, he saw something in your eyes. it's usual brightness, it's light, extraordinarily warm though you were dead.

he wanted to run away from the truth because he was afraid. he'd never let someone in before. he was frightened you would leave when things got bad.

and he even took a step backwards.

but, then he made the conscious decision to try- to love you.

he stepped forward and at that movement, you did, too.

you jumped into his embrace, gripping at the front of his shirt. he pressed his lips into yours fiercely, holding you flush against his chest. he kissed you so harshly, you bent backwards to support his weight. you exchanged a giggle, but pushed back to steady your bodies.

he pulled away, breathless, to say, "i love you, too. i love you so much, darling. i love you."

and he did.

he loved you.

[qvrcll]

college melodrama — V.

summary: ellie survives with a bruised lip and a throbbing pain that keeps her awake in her own bed. abby is elsewhere and of little care to you — you are beside ellie and nursing her wounds. tender touches lead to tenderer tellings and something worth recalling, perhaps.

warnings: injuries mentioned, food / medicine mentioned, just fluff, some angst but let’s be honest, it will be drowned out by the fluff 🫶🏽

a/n: part five and can i just say… THE POLL RESULTS ARE MAKING ME CREASEEEE. we love to see it! i love ya abby but you went too far… also my old divider stopped working for some odd reason :( + sorry for the slow updates, life has been brutally interruptive. anyhow, hope you enjoy this :-]

You’re tapping your feet anxiously beside the cotton of Ellie’s comforter the next time Dina checks in. Some part of you jumps from the familiar sound of the notification, but you put your good faith in Dina. You’re still shaken from the party’s brutal givings — besides Ellie’s bruised lip and cruddy looking jaw, the fight had taken flame amongst the entire college. From videos to whispers, you can feel the tension tenfold when you enter a room. People are nice enough to ask how Ellie is, but not nice enough to keep their eyes from telling.

You’d left her room when the messages rolled in, so it was safe to say that Ellie couldn’t hear the squelch of your heart playing in your throat right now. She couldn’t hear the deafening plea in your lungs drying the substance there, robbing it of the air that was. But she’s quick to realise, quick to ease you of your worries. You feel stupid, feel bad for even being upset but seeing her this battered and bruised hurt the world beneath your eyelids.

She knows all the right things to say and you’re really too hopeless to stay this way. You realise you’re unknowingly blaming Ellie for what’s transpired and make quick work of assuring her that no, it’s not her. It’s you and your dumb, full, thudding heart that is tipping over depravity. For her. But Ellie’s message makes you stop, makes you think. Makes your fingers shake as she loses her mind over her own recklessness with her feelings.

This is tipping close into uncharted territory. Into something of a ruse or something… warm and blanketed. Into something you’ve both hidden. But you’re not sure and Ellie is second guessing every bit of your letters, words, sentences. She’d rather have a shockwave plummet her to death than to lose you to her feelings. But if you were to be the same, she’d only dare to fall, no?

It’s an easy route to her dorm room. With her injury, prone to Abby, it had been a frequent endeavour and now, you were quite literally soaring through different altitudes. Savouring sweeter tastes. Hoping for something you’re sure you haven’t lost your mind to gain.

“Ellie?” your hand is on the door knob and the creaky, old thing flits back to allow you some space inside.

I’ve done this before, so many times. Why is it so much harder now?

“Y/N?” her voice comes softer, like the feel of peeled tangerines, in the commodity of her humble dorm. As you glance up, she’s standing in her flannel jacket, comfortable and so much like the reason as to why your heart is unrelenting in this very moment. But you can’t do this without surety — can’t do this without reason and lose half your mind with it too.

You step forward. It’s the right thing to do. You convince yourself that much, and whatever truth there is in that, is only helping you steer clear of what’s… meant to be yours, “You feel any better?”

“Y… Yeah. Totally. See,” she points ardently to the flesh that has begin to heal against her lip, “Already good. On the way… to be good, I hope.”

This is endearing, you think.

“And good, you will be, Ellie,” you reply, feet lambent against her floors, as you take her hands in yours in a complete show of camaraderie. But underneath the flesh and bone of it all, there’s something raw and pulsing there. Something alive and aware of consequences. Aware of a few of things. Curious of a lot more.

Curious of her hands.

Curious of her lips.

Curious of the row of hairs above her neck.

And of so, so much more.

“Is there… something else… you wanna say?” she suddenly asks. Rips the breath out of your lungs as her hands work to shield yours in some tight grip. Certainly not camaraderie. It’s something sacred in a nuanced sense; a telling? Or maybe one of her hidden shows of affections? But you need to try. Have to.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“When have I, Ellie, ever been wrong?”

“Dickhead. I won’t tell you now.”

“No, wait, hey! I’m sorry!”

You purse your lips, bite and swallow and throw away the smile that burdens them. But a ghost of it remains anyhow and she’s teeming with hope too, you see now. Something illusive made seen with her curiosity. She’s twice as nervous and holding you tighter and… leaning in.

Fuck.

Your lips meet slower than expected. Your nose budges against her cheek. Her teeth taste like oranges and medicine and raw, hot, scary love. Her hands are in your hair and you push the speed of them to match her—

“Ow. Ouch,” she bites her groans of pain, still holding you close. You shudder, afraid suddenly of the truth that she’s still not fully healed, “My lip… it’s just…”

“I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be. Please?” she whines and her eyes are pouring into yours and you see her past the line you’ve always drawn between the two of you. It disappears till you can no longer smell it in the air anymore. Nothing to stop you anymore. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“Okay. Okay,” you laugh against the flannel of her shirt and she coughs out a laugh, the light in her smile, “but you’re going back to bed! Heal, first. Kiss me later?”

“Mmm. Promise you won’t leave?”

“When have I ever?”

“Right” her spit of auburn hair seeps against her ears and despite your words, her lips cut the skin of your cheek anyways. Light, airy, yet leaving with the air of your lungs. You curse comically as she laughs, exits to her room, and you’re doing your best to follow when suddenly…

You hadn’t blocked her. Everything is redrawn and spilt in red. Anger, confusion and curiosity is alive in you when suddenly you become aware. Aware of your buzzing phone. Aware of the back of Ellie’s figure as she retreats to bed. Aware that whatever has started has yet to be resolved.

THE DECISION IS UP TO YOU: YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[taglist: @theganymedes @nil-eena @ximtiredx @inf3ct3dd @oceanparadox @cjrights @eveshyper @sosobaker @hsangel64 @zombie-catz @twsmalie @badbye666]

[captain-hawks]

shinichiro sano + books + purple

(congratulations on 1k! 💖)

(thank you so much<3!!!!)

shinichiro sano x reader

c: fluff, book store meet cute

“Got any books on bikes?”

Attention pulled away from the book propped open beneath your hand, you slip a bookmark between the pages and glance up. The man standing across from you on the other side of the counter sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the bookshop’s overflowing shelves and kitschy armchairs, the large, lazy feline lounging beside the register lifting her head to appraise his appearance.

Messy black hair flops over his forehead, despite his futile attempt at carding a hand through it as he offers you a lopsided grin, the thumb of his other hand hooked in one of the belt loops of his jeans with a lighter lodged between his fingers. A leather jacket is thrown over one of his shoulders, a few dark smudges breaking up the stark white cotton of his t-shirt and lingering across his knuckles as well. And with that, you’re certain he doesn’t mean bicycles. 

The cat hisses.

He laughs, and he reaches out to pet her, despite the menacing swat of one of her furry, orange paws.

Shinichiro Sano is far softer than he looks.

And he makes a habit of it—coming into the bookshop.

Coming into the bookshop and disrupting all flow of rational thought from your brain, your mind losing focus the moment you hear the now-familiar sound of his bike coming down the busy street, heart fumbling in your chest without fail the moment the rumble of the engine cuts out. 

Shinichiro has to know—that you haven’t the slightest damn clue which of the various books on motorcycles and auto mechanics nestled away in the reference section are the best reads. They’re topics that are entirely out of your depth, those shelves an entire universe away from your favorite well-worn paths in the romance and fantasy aisles. 

But you do the same dance every time—

He smiles, he waves.

He ambles up to the register, busying himself with haplessly trying to win over the cat if you’re occupied with another customer.

(Several cat toys have mysteriously appeared over the past few months.)

And then he vaguely rattles off the name of some book he’s looking for, shooting a boyish grin over his shoulder as he waits for you to come and guide the way like he has no idea where he’s going. Like he doesn’t end up in the same exact aisle every single time he comes in. 

Shinichiro Sano is far softer than he looks, because despite the loud bike he parks out front and the bold tattoos that wind up and down his arms—

—despite the way his heavy black boots scuff against the carpet—

—despite the fact that he disrupts the shop’s pleasant scent of books with the distinct, heavy smell of motor oil—

—despite the fact that you’re more than a little certain at this point that he’s got history with Tokyo’s motorcycle gang scene—

—he opens each book like it’s a precious artifact.

(You’ve found yourself distracted by the sight of his long fingers carefully turning pages more than a few times.)

He wipes his shoes on the little welcome mat at the door.

He pets the cat.

He brings you tea from your favorite café two streets over.

And maybe it’s ridiculous, how you think perhaps you’re a little bit in love with this man already.

—

It’s that goddamn purple book that does it, in the end.

The book’s an eyesore—a thick tome bound in a gaudy shade of purple, the spine embellished with an equally offensive sprawl of lime green text. 

It’s some odd collection of new age poetry, one that you’ve contemplated tossing in the garbage bin time and time again in the five years that you’ve worked at the shop, given that it’s clearly destined to live a life in shelved purgatory. (It would be a merciful sendoff.)

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon when you spy the book nestled away in the wrong aisle on the wrong shelf, staring at you tauntingly beside an otherwise aesthetically-pleasing row of classics. 

A very high row of classics. 

And naturally, rather than taking the time to fetch a stool, you opt for your tiptoes and outstretched fingers instead, hand coming up empty as you predictably lose your balance and stumble backward—right into something solid.

Someone.

Shinichiro’s far warmer than you expected.

It’s all you can think about as you hear the familiar sound of his hushed laughter behind you, the sound reverberating through his chest.

“And yet you always yell at me for doing the same thing,” he huffs in amusement, sending a shiver jolting down your spine at the intimate feeling of his breath hitting the shell of your ear. 

“The stool is across the store,” you protest, trying and failing to keep your voice steady despite the onslaught of emotion frying the circuit board of your brain at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you.

He’s—

He’s reaching for the book.

One hand outstretched, he asks, “Which one?”

His fingers flutter lazily in the air, like he has all the time in the world.

Like he’s not pressed up against you in an empty aisle, his hair tickling the side of your face as he leans forward. And for once, it’s not the scent of books that pervades your senses as you stand before the shelves, nor is it the whiff motor oil that incessantly clings to him.

It’s the light, pleasant fragrance of detergent that envelopes you, the smell gentle and calm like an early summer breeze. 

(Softer than he looks.)

There’s no use in hiding the hitch in your breath.

“The purple one,” you whisper.

“That’s the ugliest book I’ve ever seen.”

And then you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and his hands are on your shoulders and he’s spinning you around to face him and his smile is so soft and he’s looking at you so intently your heart might just burst and—

“I love it when you laugh.”

And he’s kissing you.

An ugly purple book lies forgotten on the shelf and Shinichiro tenderly takes your face in his hands and kisses you. Again. And again.

And again.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Just to kiss me (Part 4)

pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five, My Hunger Games Masterlist

summary: You take care of Finnick, in the aftermath.

warnings: mentions of drug use, depictions of a psychotic breakdown, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt comfort, aaaangst, fluff.

required reading: The song "We'll never have sex" by Leith Ross <;3

a/n: a short but sweet chapter, I hope. Calm before the storm, etc etc

wc: 2k

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

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

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

“....Are you mad at me?.” Finnick winces as you dab at the cut above his eyebrow.

You’re perched on his kitchen countertop, between his legs as he stands and leans towards you. Due to the height difference, it was the easiest way you could get to his injuries; the contents of his first aid kit strewn onto the marble. Still thawing from the cold; your fingers clumsily swipe at the wound. Your eyes are red-rimmed from crying; more out of frustration and exhaustion than anything. Your arms hurt, your back aches, and you’ve got a pounding headache. Finnick almost died and he’s barely fazed; giving you a lazy grin in the soft light of the kitchen.

Admittedly, you didn’t know what to expect from his house. It certainly wasn’t this: a modest home at the Capitol’s edge. You’d expected the sterile white and marble that you’d seen a thousand times over. Instead it feels like a home: warm lamps and clutter and throw pillows. It looks like someone lives a life, here. 

You chewed your bottom lip on the way there, silk slip dampening the leather of the car seats. You were worried; eyes darting between the road and him - looking for jittery hands or glazed eyes. Every bump in the road puts you on edge; you can barely feel the warmth of the car’s heater - sitting in dull cold despite it all. Even Finnick was quiet, bundling you up the stairs and into his room with few words. When he hands you a sweater and joggers, there’s nothing to be said except in the brush of fingers; I’m sorry it hurts. The words die in your throat.

His fingers brush the soft fabric, his hands flat on the countertop. Pressing cotton heavy with disinfectant to his temple, Finnick hisses softly. He takes your hand in his to stop you, momentarily.

“I’m sorry.”

You can’t help but laugh. It’s insensitive, sure, and makes you look insane. The first time you’ve so much as smiled in the past couple hours, and he has no idea why. 

“W-What are you-” You’re still laughing, soft and melodious in the hum of lights. “-What exactly are you sorry for?”

“Uh..” He cocks his head. Despite the circumstances (he thinks you’re delirious from the adrenaline of it all), your smile hurts him in a way he didn’t think possible. “For… everything. You didn’t have to do what you did.”

“You weren’t awake for what I did, Finnick.” And then, softer. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know.” 

You tuck his hair behind his ear. Dirty blonde locs, curled from the spray of lake water. 

“You keep surprising me.”  

“Surprising you? How?” Cradling his cheek now, he waits with baited breath.

“Hmmmm,” you titter, pretending to think. “You’re funnier than I thought you would be.”

He smiles, crooning. “...Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand is still on yours. “And you’re perceptive. You see everything with those freaky green eyes of yours.”

Lidded, his eyes flit down to your lips. He’s in a trance, unable to think of anything but the way his heart swells when you talk to him like that.

“And you’re kind. You were kind to me, on the balcony. You didn’t have to stay, or remember me but you did. And… when you talk to me, it’s like I’m the only person in the world. You’re good at that; making people feel wanted. Making me feel...”

“I like you.” It tumbles out of his mouth, wincing at how desperate it sounds. Suddenly, he’s barefoot on the shores of District 4, gap-toothed and sunburnt. He’s stretching sticky fingers towards the other kids, trying to make friends. To be seen.

“I like you too. I-” you swallow, imperceptibly. He notices the quiver of your lip. “I know it’s not my place. You’re a grown man, and you don’t need a lecture - but whatever you were taking; you need to be more careful. I need you to be more careful-”

“I can’t sleep. That’s why I was taking them.”

“Okay.” Your voice is soft, free of judgement. You’re not satisfied with his answer, but it’ll do, for now. You don’t want to push him away. Gently, you nod. “You scared me.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He presses his forehead to yours.

“Stop apologising, Finnick.” You close your eyes, and lean into his touch. 

You stay like that for a little too long; basking in the warmth of each other. Slow steady breaths to remind the other that you were both alive. When you separate, you brush light fingers at the apex of his cut. It stopped bleeding long ago, split and angry red on his flesh. Peeking out from under his sweatshirt, you see the dull mauve of bruises; older, they couldn't have been from today. Finnick looks as exhausted as you feel. 

"You need stitches." He nods, resigned. 

They're serviceable - likely to scar, but serviceable. His grey-green eyes follow your hands, your lips, the tilt of your head; and suddenly, you're grateful that you've learnt at least one thing from your years with the Junior Peacekeeper Scouts. The rest, you've learnt from your years around the capitol's elite: how to hide shaking hands under scrutiny. You're tying the knot on his stitches when you hear soft creaking coming from the stairs. 

From the kitchen, you see a pale hand wrap around the bannister. Annie, in a nightgown and robe pads onto the hardwood. Her hair flows down her back as she steps into the warmth of the kitchen - like a ghost in sheets. 

"Lucas?" Her eyes are wide and glassy - wet-rimmed like she's been crying. Again, she squeaks. "Lucas?" 

His body language changes, but Finnick doesn't miss a beat. Slowly, he closes the gap. "You ok, Annie?" 

Her voice cracks. "T-think I had that dream again."

You see his Adam's apple quiver. Hoarsely, he swallows. "Okay. Let's get you t-"

"No!" She clenches her fist and stumbles backwards, into the counter. "Please don't- I can't- please don't make me…. Lucas-" 

"-to bed." He says, impossibly soft. You've fallen away to the sidelines as they are framed in lamplight. He throws a glance to you over his shoulder, unreadable. "Annie, let's get you to bed."

He stands in front of her, hands at his side. Hesitating? No, asking for permission. When she pulls at his shirt, manic, he wraps her up. The woman's eyes are frenzied; her breathing speeding up and hands clawing at her wrists and throat. He's gentle when he takes them and places them in his own; whispering something you can't hear. She stills, breathing erratically, but calmer by the minute. 

"Finnick… F-Finnick, I can't-" 

"I know… I know,"

"-where did y-you go? Finnick, I called for you and you weren't t-there. Where di-" 

"I know… and I'm sorry," He soothes. She still can't see you. They make their way up the stairs; where you can hear the dance of their voices. Finnick: low and calm. Annie: frantic, strained. 

You're left feeling bare in the aftermath. Like you've just seen something you shouldn't have. Her face is etched into your mind's eye - terror you've only ever seen on a screen. A voyeur, looking in through a dirty spyglass - gripped with the shame of getting caught. You look around, and reality slams into you at full force. You shouldn't be here. 

You clean up, close to tears. 

It's almost an hour before he comes down again. You've cleared what's left of the first aid kit from the counter, and curled up onto the sofa. Before you know it, you've passed out like that; knees drawn into yourself between plush cushions. Finnick finds you there, wading in fitful sleep. You look peaceful; in his clothes, in his house, nestled in his couch. It feels right, he thinks. 

You start awake, blinking back sleep. You're met with Finnick above, arms full of blankets and pillows. 

"Shit. Didn't mean to wake you." He sighs, collapsing onto the sofa. 

"S'okay." You mumble. Stretching, you move to get up. "It's probably time for me to get going anyw-" 

"-No! I-I mean…" Exhaustion creeping in, he rubs at his eyes. "You must be tired. Sleep, even for just a little bit." 

And then, quieter. "Stay. Please." 

You lean your head back and look at him, tilted 90 degrees. Even from this angle, his puppy-dog eyes claw at your heart. 

"You can take my bed?" He adds, hopeful. 

You scoff. "And where will you sleep?" 

"Down here's just fine…"

"No, no. Absolutely not. Finn, you need rest - in a proper bed with back support, and silk sheets and-" 

He cuts you off with a snort. It's cute, he thinks. When you get passionate and a little mad, you shake your fists at him like a fairytale villain. He shrugs."Haven't been getting much sleep anyways. S'how we got into this mess in the first place."

You purse your lips. There's a grab made at the pillows in his lap, but he snatches it away just in time. You feint, elbowing him playfully, before going for the blanket by his other side. Successful, you ball it up crudely, and stretch onto the sofa. Makeshift pillow under your head you fake a yawn, pointedly (smugly, he thinks). 

"Goodnight." He rolls his eyes at your dramatics. The white woven blanket, the one that had been with you both for the night, ends up on your back. Finnick leaves the extra pillows at your feet, before turning off the lamps. He gives you one last look, before heading to bed. 

"Goodnight." You whisper into the dark as the sound of steps subside. No-one answers. 

~~~

In the morning, you're woken up to the smell of coffee and something sizzling in a pan. Light streams in from where you lie, bundled up in blankets and pillows. A dull ache settles in your bones, as you try to blow away the morning fog - blinking back sleep. Through the doorway to the kitchen, you see a sliver of someone's bare arm. 

Finnick stands at the stove top, dressed in a light tank top and sweats, a flowery tea towel slung over his shoulder. The tip of his tongue sticks out when he pokes at the pan with a wooden spoon; deep in concentration. You walk in and lean on the doorframe. 

"Morning." The pan nearly goes flying, Finnick almost jumping like a startled cat. His hand grazes the heat of a burner, and he hisses in frustration. Without thinking, you leap to his side, quick to guide him towards the sink and run his burn under cold water. 

"Morning," He says despite himself, leaning into your soft touch. You trace the lines of his palm under the running water.

"They say," You're careful to circle around the burn forming at its base. "…you've got your future written out in your palms," 

"And what do my palms tell you?" He says softly.

"It's not that simple, see," You huff. "Like…. roots in a tree. All mapped out before you were even born. This one," you trace one spreading the width of his hand "..is your heart line. It tells me all about the way you love the people around you. It says you give too much, despite yourself. The one below it, is your head line. Right now, it says you're stubborn and…" You laugh. 

"…pig-headed."

"Really?" Unwittingly, he's been reeled in. 

"No. Not really. I wouldn't know, Finn. Made it all up." Your lips pop at the last sentence, grinning up at him. 

"Very funny." His tone is dry, but still he smiles. 

"I've got a friend who's obsessed with it: divination, fate, destiny, all of it. She'll probably give you something a little more accurate than I can." 

He hums. "Does that mean…. you want to see me again?" 

You're standing shoulder to shoulder with him at the sink. You shut off the tap, and grab a piece of toast from a plate on the counter. His plate, most likely. Your answer comes in the form of a flash pink tongue. 

"...Maybe."

"I want to see you again." 

There it is; something red-hot at the base of your chest, spreading like a wildfire until it makes your fingers numb and face warm. You'd die before you admit how what he said made you feel; I want, I want, I want becomes a broken record on replay in your head. 

"I'd like that," You breathe, and then clear your throat. “I’d like that.”

_

_

_

taglist: @starhastoomanyfandoms

[nuhahani]

3:15(Breathe)

3:15(Breathe) - Angst. Multi Fandom/Character. GN(No pronouns for reader)

It started out as it always does at the beginning of the fall. A missed call or two. Staying later at work. Cancelling plans more and more. You had been together for five years and suddenly it was like living with a stranger every time he came home. The distance between you and him grew larger with each attempt to close the gap. It was 2am, then 3am and then it was 4am. He wasn’t coming home tonight. It was the third night in a row in a pattern that had become the new normal for the past month. How did it all fall so far from where it began? 

“You smell like perfume.” 7am, he walked through the front door. Hair disheveled, clothes that looked as if they were carelessly thrown on. A small hum left his throat, the only response he gave. Your voice was softer than cotton itself. “Why do you smell like perfume?” 

He didn’t even glance at your figure on the couch, knees tucked under your chin and arms locked right around your legs. He wasn’t even that close to you, and you could still smell her from the distance. He no longer cared. There was no point in hiding it, he was perfectly fine hurting you. Showing you that your relationship was no longer a priority. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, undoing the shirt he wore to work yesterday as he continued to ignore you. Were you not enough? You worked even though you didn’t have to. You cooked and cleaned, took care of him. Kept his secrets and held him in his distress. Keeping it together was the hardest thing you had to do. You wanted to scream, cry. You wanted him to show any type of emotion, something that showed he still cared. That you were still important. But you weren’t, he showed you that you weren’t. The light left his eyes every time he looked at you, you had watched it happen for some time now. Eyes that now stayed glued to his phone as he left you alone just like always. The sound of water running down the hall answered your unspoken question. Soft sandy carpet felt as if it were hot coals under your bare feet. Your feet that didn’t need eyes to see you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Weight that slowly breaking everything ounce of your soul.

The bedroom at the end of the hall that was a haven from everything now turned into an empty isolated hell-scape. A home built by two people now being rented by one. Your body refused to step forward past the threshold of the doorway. Paralyzed by lost and foreign memories. 

“I’ll love you long after my lungs stop breathing.” He spoke so genuinely to you, his lips not wasting a second afterward to kiss you. Soft, gentle lips that spoke poetry to you with every word. Hands that felt like home on your cheeks as they cupped your face to pull you closer. Hands that would never let you go.

A moment that used to make you feel so warm and at peace now caused the familiar ache of abandonment in your chest. This was no longer home; he was not coming back. There were no thoughts as you packed a bag full of clothes. Your hands moving faster than you would’ve thought in your dissociated state. Shirts and pants that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds in your hands. A backpack would be all you needed; it would have to be for now. Running water could no longer be heard as you slung the bag over your shoulder. You pushed past him in the hallway as he stepped out of the bathroom. The gaze of his eyes on your back, but you couldn’t turn back. You couldn’t because if you did you would stay. 

Trembling fingers snatched your keys as you maneuvered your way around the kitchen counter. This apartment was suffocating you with its silence. The prickling sensation of tears welled along your waterline threatening to fall if you didn’t move quicker. A voice cut through the tension calling your name. The ringing in your ears muffled the sound of your name leaving his lips. Lacing your sneakers seemed a nearly impossible task. The frustration and anger brought on the swelling sensation in your throat as if you were choking. Your shaking hands yanked the front door open only to slam it shut behind you as he kept calling after you. 

Time had seemed to be racing and slowing around you simultaneously as your alert body pulled you towards the complex parking lot. A dazed and hazy state that not even drugs could replicate. Walls and doors turned into pavement and parked cars. Tossing the bag into the backseat you locked the doors as you started the engine. Once you pull out of the parking lot there is no turning back. You would have no choice to go back, there was nothing to go back to. A home that built turned to one that you rented and was now one you watched burn to the ground. A fire that had been started by the man who vowed to love you until death do you part, the same man that tried to trap you inside the fire. 

Parking spaces and pavement turned to traffic lights and tears as you pounded your fists against the steering wheel at a red light. Screams that the rest of the world would never hear escaped your lungs, threatening to burst them into confetti sized pieces if you held them in any longer. Where would you go? You left but where are you running to? Your phone vibrated in the cup holder. There was no point in checking it. He only called because you left.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Boy Who Broke His Own Heart [Part Five]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Jasmine Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, Euphemia Potter, Filius Flitwick, Fleamont Potter,

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3896

Summary: Sirius would rather break his own heart than hers.

Tags/Warnings: James Potter has a sister, Self Loathing, Commitment Issues, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Smoking, Accidents, Harm, Marauders Era, The War is Not Happening in this,

LINK TO ALL PARTS

Even though their end of year prank went down spectacularly well, cheering Remus up no end the entire day he managed to spend outside the hospital wing before break came, Sirius couldn’t wait to finish school for Christmas. He tried to reason that the absence of school and Christmas cheer was enough to get anyone in a jovial mood but he knew that it was the prospect of spending two whole weeks with Jasmine. Of course they weren’t alone and it wasn’t like the summer but it was better than the time they’d spent apart.

He missed her. Which he knew was selfish of him and yet he couldn’t not. That’s why every minute they spent together even in this awkward cohesion they managed to find he savoured. Jasmine however wasn’t feeling as at ease about their newly rekindled friendship. She was still hurt and though she wanted to be his friend, if only to relieve the tension around her brother, she couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t possible. Because it was easy to be over him at a distance. It was easy to be happy when he was off with random girls. It was easy to love Theo when he wasn’t around to eclipse him.

But to have him break into a smile when she came to the breakfast table, as though he’d been waiting all night to see her again, or to have him listen intently when she rabbited on about the new book she was reading when James had tuned out and was busy throwing a snitch back and forth, well, it was hard not to be his friend then. It was hard not to love him then.

That was why she tried her best to avoid him. Even in a house as big as theirs it wasn’t easy, if James Potter wanted something he was determined to get it which often meant she was ambushed, whatever she was doing often left behind as she was forced to spend time with them. When this happened she allowed herself to be as friendly as possible but it was getting harder and harder every time not to slip back into their old ways.

Which was why she was relieved to have a moment to breathe. Seeing as it was Christmas Eve James had decided they should have a holiday tipple which had left him too squiffy to notice when she’d slipped away and headed to bed. Since Sirius had been matching him drink for drink she had hoped he hadn’t noticed her absence too much either and apparently she was right as he seemed stunned to see her when he flung the bathroom door open with such force it rattled off the wall.

Jasmine was getting ready for bed, her long hair hanging neatly down her back, trailing along the cotton nightie she was wearing that stopped far too high on her thighs to stop Sirius from staring. Yet he finally managed to as he felt her watching him, his intrusion questioned through a raised eyebrow rather than words.

 ‘Sorry didn’t know you were in here,’ he said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

‘Evidently,’ Jasmine said sarcastically, before her voice turned softer and she added, ‘I’ll not be long.’

‘S’alright,’ Sirius mumbled though where she’d expected him to turn around and wait outside he didn’t, moving to rest against the marble countertop, his arms folded across his chest as he watched her. Jasmine tried to ignore him, focusing on the motion of brushing her teeth, rinsing and spitting, but his gaze was hot on her face.

She swilled her mouth with water and spat, wiping the minty fresh speckled water from her lips before looking his way and asking, ‘what?’

‘Nothing,’ Sirius said, though she could see that look behind his eyes. The one that always came when he’d been thinking of something that he wanted to bring up but didn’t know how. Jasmine braced herself as he continued, ‘James said Lil’s coming to the Christmas party.’

‘Yeah he said,’ Jasmine replied, confused that this was his chosen topic.

‘Maybe now he’ll stop moping over her,’ Sirius mused, earning himself a wry smile as Jasmine turned around to lean against the sink as he was. The proximity made his pulse thrum especially given the way she had the excuse to leave now and didn’t choose too.

‘Doubt it he could mope about her going to the toilet without him,’ Jasmine ribbed, earning a grin from the boy. She returned it, the pair chuckling at her brother.

Though James’ heartsickness over the red head was often a target for mockery she couldn't deny the unashamed way he loved Lily was something to be admired. A force to be reckoned with. Then again she supposed one of them deserved to scream their relationships from the rooftops rather than thrive in secret rendezvous or placid respect. Her smirk died out at the flash of Theo through her mind, the knot in her stomach about him returning and worsening as Sirius said, ‘is erm, is Theo coming?’  

‘No,’ Jasmine said, immediately moving away and finding something to busy her hands with though her bottles and creams were already as straight as can be on the counter top.

‘Oh, didn’t he fancy it?’ Sirius asked in his most casual voice though his gaze was rigid on her face. Jasmine paused, her fingers that had been fiddling with a damp flannel stalling nervously.

‘I didn’t invite him,’ she said quietly.

‘Why not?’ Sirius pressed. Jasmine huffed and pulled away from him, moving between him and the door as if she was going to flee through it. She hated it when he was like this. Not because he wouldn’t take no for an answer but rather because she felt obligated to give him one. He got under her skin just as easily as he pulled her back into teetering on the verge of loving him.

‘If you must know he’s got a lot of family things to go to. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to be here,’ she said firmly though her firmness weakened as he made a sceptical face, ‘what?’

‘Nothing, it’s just Lil’s coming…don’t you want him to meet the parents and all that?’ Sirius pressed.

‘Like I said he’s busy,’ Jasmine snapped.

Sirius stood up looking down on her with a sympathetic expression. He could feel his words coming and he knew not to say them. He and Jasmine were just becoming friends again and to piss her off now would be detrimental, especially given how much he had missed her. But he couldn’t help himself.

‘It’s alright you know,’ Sirius said.

‘What are you on about?’ she asked irritably.

‘If he’s not what you thought…if you only got with him-’

‘What to make you jealous?’ she laughed. Sirius frowned. It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for and he could see the fire building behind her eyes as was his own, the laugh enough to rile him.

‘I’m just saying,’ he said angrily.

‘Oh yeah ‘cos everything’s about you isn’t it?’ she said, rolling her eyes and moving away from him. The feel of him so close to her making her heart thud in her chest as the tension rolled off them both.

‘I didn’t say that,’ Sirius said hotly.

‘No but there couldn’t possibly be a reason that I’d like Theo could there? It has to be about you,’ she snapped.

‘Oh c’mon Jas,’ Sirius sighed, ‘he’s not exactly…’

‘Not what?’ she asked angrily.

‘Well…he’s a bit of div,’ Sirius reasoned.

‘Yeah well funnily enough I like that,’ she replied heatedly. Sirius scoffed and looked away but Jasmine didn’t let up, ‘at least he’s got something about him unlike the tramps you’ve been through recently.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Sirius lied, looking up to find her face thunderous. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut even if she did look ridiculously pretty shouting at him.

 ‘You. You have a new girlfriend every five minutes! Or was that for my benefit?’ she asked.

‘As if,’ Sirius scoffed. If anything that was the truth. In those first few weeks he hadn't been trying to make her miss him or jealous, he’d simply been trying to forget her. Forget how she made his heart sing and his brain spin. Forget how they could have each other up in arms or in fits of laughter. Forget how ridiculously good she smelt like she did now, the waft of vanilla and caramel intoxicating to him even amidst an argument.

‘No but my going out with Theo has to be about you! Because my life revolves around Sirius fucking Black. God forbid I have a life of my own,’ she said heatedly, stabbing her finger into his chest as she glared at him.

‘Alright Merlin you can have your own fucking life,’ he retorted far too loudly given she was barely a foot away, ‘be bored stiff with Theo see what I care.’

‘Fine I will,’ she replied angrily.

‘Fine!’ Sirius growled.

They stood there for a moment, chests heaving from the shouting, just staring at one another.

And then they weren’t staring at all. Before either of them could realise what was happening they were up against the bathroom door, slamming it closed as he pressed her up against it, their mouths now working in tandem rather than opposed to each other. They knew they should stop, that every kiss was falling further into something they couldn’t just shake off and yet neither of them could bring themselves to. The wooden door was hard against Jasmine’s back which should’ve been enough to pull her to her senses in itself and yet she found herself leaning back into it, scrambling to find purchase as her limbs ensnared him against her.

None of it was thought through, every kiss and touch hurried along as if it’d be snatched away if they thought about it too long, and yet it still felt like enough to heal that hurt inside both of them that had been festering away since the end of summer.

Sirius couldn’t believe how he’d ever fumbled this. How he could’ve thought that anything would be better than where he was right now, that anything could be better than her. Even when he paused, shrouding himself in vulnerability as he murmured her name, practically begging for permission, jeans bunched around his thighs and lips swollen from kissing her, he still found that a better feeling than being without her.

‘Pads,’ she panted, her breathy moans music to his ears after so long of being without them. Sirius had to fight a smile, burying his face into her neck as she knotted her fingers in his hair, losing herself in the moment.

To neither of their surprise it was over pretty quick and yet the come down wasn’t a crash but a gentle descent. The anger had ebbed, leaving behind an unsure reverence in its place. As they realigned their clothing neither of them spoke, the uncertainty of the situation making both of them reluctant to make the first move. After all, neither of them was quite sure what this meant. Jasmine watched him closely, wondering what to say. Did this mean they were getting back together? Was it a one off? What about Theo?

Oh God, Theo. She could feel the panic coming, the idea of having to tell him what had just transpired giving her a pain in her chest that she couldn't shake. Sirius saw the change in her expression and moved his hand to her face, tracing his thumb along her jaw gently as he readied himself to speak but she didn’t get the chance to as they were interrupted as James’ voice echoed through the door, ‘Oi mate! Where’s your box of records?’

‘What?’ Sirius replied loudly, making Jasmine flinch as he was so close to her.

‘The box of records. It’s not with the player,’ James said, ‘did you bring it upstairs?’

‘No!’ Sirius replied angrily.

‘Well can you find it? Lil said she wanted to-’

‘Can you fuck off I’m trying to piss,’ Sirius shouted angrily, looking down at Jasmine who was still squashed between him and the door though she was looking away from him. Sirius cursed James. He could see her going into her head, whatever she was worrying about squirreled away for his protection. He was only distracted as he listened to James reply, ‘alright fuckin’ hell. I was only asking.’

He listened to his friend potter away, waiting for the telltale creak of the stairs that signalled he was a decent distance away, before he looked down at Jasmine who was pushing him away, out of her space as though she couldn’t think with him as close as he was.

 ‘You should go and help him,’ she whispered, looking up at him with sad hazel eyes that made him frown.

‘Jas,��� he sighed.

‘He’ll be waiting,’ she said and before he could protest she slipped out of his reach and out of the bathroom leaving him standing there, his mind reeling.

✵✵✵

‘Hey,’ Jasmine said as she slipped into the office, closing the door behind her. Sirius looked up from where he was perched on the window ledge, knees tucked up in front of him providing a rest for his arms. She had known he’d be in here. The irony was not lost on her that after spending all her time trying to avoid him she was now seeking him out but after what had transpired in the bathroom she found she couldn’t leave whatever it was hanging in the air. It was one thing to hide something from your nearest and dearest when you knew what you were dealing with. To hide this felt like an uncertainty. An unknown entity.

‘Hey,’ he replied with a soft smile.

‘What are you doing in here?’ she asked, moving into the room though as she did she felt a breeze from an open window, which given that it was less than five degrees out would’ve shocked her if Sirius had not held up his packet of cigarettes that had been tucked down between his leg and the window pane. Jasmine smiled, ‘you know James will have a heart attack if he sees that.’

‘Eh, I’m by the window,’ Sirius shrugged.

Jasmine rolled her eyes and took a seat opposite him on the ledge, watching as he took a long drag on the cigarette he’d been smoking. When he noticed her watching him he grinned and offered it across, never releasing it from his fingers as she took a drag herself. Like her brother she had never been into the smoking fad like Sirius was. Whilst James’ stance was based mostly on how it was unbecoming for athletes she rather focused on the smell and taste of it. It never really appealed to her, just another muggle habit Sirius craved to learn about. She’d only taken to it this summer, mainly because participating in it meant she got to spend more time with him alone. That and even for all its faults she couldn’t deny it made him look incredibly alluring.

As she pulled back, revelling in the instant buzzy feeling it gave her, Sirius watched her closely. It never failed to amaze him how she could look just as pretty in the nightdress she’d been wearing yesterday and the evening gown she was swathed in now but he had to admit tonight she looked radiant. Her hair was swept behind her, falling down her back in a waterfall of brown curls meaning that her face was open, radiant eyes and supple lips enhanced by swatches of neutral pinks and oranges. And her dress was fitted, floaty chiffon clinging to every line and curve of her body as she sat before him.

 ‘You look beautiful,’ Sirius said without thinking. Jasmine smiled softly.

‘Thanks,’ Jasmine murmured, ‘you look handsome yourself. Sophisticated.’

‘Oh yeah, finest dress robes and a fag for good measure. Really sophisticated I am,’ Sirius mused, glancing at the black dinner dress he’d been sporting all evening, though his jacket and coat had been shed a while since. Jasmine smiled before looking out the window. On this side of the house there wasn’t much of a view, mainly manicured lawn which backed onto the adjoining fields and yet it was the most interesting thing in the world to her, well until she could figure out what she was going to say.

Truth was she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. Even after lying awake reliving the moment or thinking about Theo she couldn’t line up what it was she wanted to tell him. Because like always whatever she was feeling about Sirius Black melted the moment she got within three feet of him. Any uncertainty she had vanished because he made her feel as though this was just where she was supposed to be. Anger and frustration didn’t come near her when she was this close. And guilt, the guilt that had been gnawing at her all day that felt like a distant memory. 

So even though she’d been desperate to hash it out with him she didn’t bother bringing it up, opting to make small talk instead as she asked, ‘why are you hanging out in here? Where are the boys?’

‘Left them talking to Ludo Bagman about how he’s moving from professional playing to ministry work,’ Sirius said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

‘And you didn’t want to join in because you just hate talking about quidditch?’ she teased knowing that he would have just as much of a desire as the rest of them to bend a professional quidditch player's ear. Especially one who was transitioning into a post that gave him access to complimentary tickets from every team in the league.

‘I hate talking about my mother,’ Sirius muttered bitterly, silencing whatever teasing words were on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t say anything more and she didn’t press, allowing another lull to fall between them.  

 He watched her, knowing they should probably dissect whatever it was that happened the night before, but to do that would risk her pulling away from him. And he didn’t want that. So all he offered was a mere, ‘Jas…we’re alright aren’t we?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded, ‘fleeting moment of madness right?’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius said, a touch disappointed.

‘We should probably go back before they come looking for us,’ she murmured.

‘Yeah probably,’ Sirius agreed, flicking his cigarette through the open window and pulling it closed which left them unnaturally close. Sirius paused, leaving himself open and vulnerable. He didn’t want to kiss her this time, he wanted her to kiss him. To prove that despite her brushing him off this was not a moment of madness. That this was real.

 And she did, capturing his lips gently at first before her kisses turned to hunger, pulling him to her as they made their way to the couch, a flurry of hands and lips. It was so frenzied the pair were stunned to find themselves on opposite sides of the room the moment they heard the door click open, Jasmine still laying haphazardly on her father’s sofa as Sirius tried to enact a natural stance, perching on Fleamont’s desk as if he’d been sitting there the whole time.

‘What are you two doing in here?’ James asked as he strolled in, kicking the door closed behind him and flopping down on the couch next to Jasmine who immediately took it as an excuse to straighten up her somewhat dishevelled appearance. James didn’t seem to notice.

‘Needed a break,’ Sirius said casually.

‘Tell me about it. I’m sure I’ve been stuck with Bagman for at least half an hour,’ James grumbled, leaning forward to scoop a handful of nuts from a bowl that had been on the coffee table.

‘You got fed up talking about quidditch?’ Jasmine teased.

‘I got fed up with him and Pete arguing about the match tomorrow. Pete’s so sure the Cannons are gonna win he even put twenty galleons down on it. I told him he was mad to but he wouldn’t listen so I left them to it,’ James said with the crunch of a nut.

‘Where are Moony and Lil?’ Sirius asked.

‘Talking to Flitwick about that test we’re having first week back,’ James replied boredly, ‘figured I’d leave them to it. See what you two were up to, anything good?’

‘No,’ the pair said quickly. James eyed them both curiously, though his suspicions seemed satiated as he leaned towards Jasmine and got a whiff of cigarette smoke.

‘Ugh,’ he grumbled, ‘you’ve been smoking haven’t you. You smell like an ashtray.’

‘I was me mate,’ Sirius said, glancing at Jasmine who had stalled over an excuse at her current state, ‘must’ve blown back from the window. Sorry Jas.’

‘It’s fine,’ Jasmine nodded.

‘Well I should bloody hope not,’ James chuckled, ‘here I was thinking you were being a bad influence Pads.’

‘Well I have got previous,’ Sirius said, not looking in Jasmine’s direction.

‘Well anyway I suppose we best get back to it,’ James said with a yawn, ‘ready?’

‘Yeah,’ the pair of them said, rising from their seats and following James back towards the party.

 ✵✵✵

Sirius couldn’t sleep. He was trying and yet every time he closed his eyes all he could see was flashes of Jasmine and him together. They hadn’t spoken after their session in the study and everything felt more up in the air after that one kiss than the night previous. So he lay there, wondering what she was doing, if she was up worrying about the whole debacle as he was. He worried so hard he exhausted himself, finally slipping into a fitful slumber that was broken as he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him so quickly from sleep he sat upright forcing his visitor to have to move back save bumping heads.

‘Jas?’ he asked, confusedly, the low light making it hard to distinguish though there was no one else who would sit with him like this. No one else whose hand would ghost along his neck, pulling him toward her in a kiss that stopped him from asking any other questions until they both broke away breathlessly.

‘What are-’ he started but she cut him off.

‘Fleeting moment of madness yeah?’ she asked, her hazel eyes begging him to say yes. He knew he shouldn’t. That they were only digging a hole deeper and deeper and if they kept going they may never be able to dig themselves out. He knew he could not be what she wanted, what she needed, and yet he couldn’t resist her. He missed her too much. To know she was consumed with him, unable to distance herself as much as he was made him happier than ever.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded, flipping her over onto her back, a smirk on his lips at the squeal she offered in return.

 James was right. Sirius Black was a bad influence.

Sirius Tags

@caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

[betweenthings2]

Ahh i would love gatty with 10, 15 or 23 from prompts that has me lying on a highway. Love your writing so much ❤️‍🩹

Thank you and thank you so much for the ask!! I am so very sorry it took me so long to get to this. I have no good excuse.

Here's 15. "I'll come over there and make you shut up, then." "You can try," 23. Curled up on the bed together, face buried in their chest, and 10. "Tell me what you want, baby."

10 came out smutty, so I've put it last.

15. "I'll come over there and make you shut up, then." "You can try." 

Matty has been talking for the past twenty-seven minutes. About what, George has no idea, but he does know what Matty has been talking and it's all he can do at this point to not tell Matty to just shut up. He's done that a time or two and Matty always looks horribly hurt and guilty. No, doing his best to simply let Matty's rambling fade into the background and put his headphones on.

George wraps up with what he's working on about twenty minutes later, and when he slides his headphones off, Matty is still talking. He's probably changed topics about four times in that space and he probably hasn't even noticed that George hasn't been listening. No, he's just wandering around the space, now with a just-lit joint, talking.

"Matty," George interrupts.

Matty stops, and turns around. "Yeah?"

"Have you been talking this whole time?"

Matty nods. "Yeah. Have you been listening?"

"I had headphones on, love."

"Rude," Matty says. "What if I said something brilliant?"

"Did you?"

"Do I look like I remember what I was talking about?"

George can't help but laugh.

"I mean, really," Matty continues, pausing only for a drag from his joint, "aren't we supposed to be partners? I thought-"

"Matty you were talking for like forty-five minutes," George interrupts again. "Forty-five minutes is a long time."

"Yeah, but what if I said something brilliant? Sometimes I do. Sometimes I say great things when I'm rambling, like, half of our album names have been things I've just said." 

"Matty," George says, exasperated, "I love you, but please, five minutes of quiet."

Matty sighs, dramatic, but agrees, "Fine," and sprawls out in an armchair. He takes a purposeful, deep drag from his joint and blows smoke toward the ceiling, like he's making a point to not offer the joint to George. Not more than two minutes have passed when he says, "Has it been five minutes yet?"

"No."

Matty groans. "I have things to say, ya'know, George. We can't all be quiet and stoic. Have you ever thought about stoicism? I think-"

"I'll come over there and make you shut up," George warns.

Matty makes a kind of disbelieving face and says, "You can try."

So George gets up and crowds into Matty's space, one knee on the edge of his seat. The first thing he does is pluck the joint from between Matty's fingers and take a drag, earning some indignation from Matty.

"That was mine," Matty starts. "I even-"

"Not anymore," George cuts in. He leans in for a kiss, a little bit rough, but Matty reciprocates eagerly, letting George do as he likes.

Matty stays quiet for a just a moment when they separate, then starts talking again with, "In terms of strategies to shut me up, I'd give that, like, a six out of ten. Not the worst, but could be better, ya'know? You could-"

George cuts him off with another kiss, tangling his free hand in Matty's hair. He keeps his hand in Matty's hair when they separate, tugging a bit to say, "You gonna be quiet now?"

"Six and a half out of ten," Matty decides, half daring George to do something.

George stubs out the joint in the ashtray on the side table and says, "You're awful. I love you."

Matty smiles and leans in for another kiss, this one a little bit softer, then says, "I love you, too."

----

23. Curled up on the bed together, face buried in their chest.

George's fingers trail up and down Matty's back, gentle through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. George's own t-shirt is damp where Matty's face is pressed against his chest. He's been crying. That's not really saying very much--Matty cries a lot--but today he clearly needs some comfort. George isn't really even sure why, Matty had just come back from the interview he'd been roped into, changed his clothes, and tugged George into bed, hiding his face against George's chest. The tears had been slow to come, but come they did in quiet sniffles and shaky breath. George doesn't say anything. He doesn't really need to. All he needs if for Matty to know he's there.

Eventually, Matty mumbles, "Thanks."

"'course," George murmurs. "Wanna talk about it?"

Matty stays quiet for a few moments, then he admits, "Not sure there's anything to talk about. Just needed a cry, ya'know?"

"Can I ask why?" George pushes, still rubbing Matty's back.

Matty gives a half shrug, then stays quiet for a while. His breath is warm against George's chest and they fit together just right, like they were made to. George wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

After a few minutes, Matty moves so he can glance up at George, then looks away and admits, "Dunno why," and tucks his face back against George's chest.

George cards his fingers through Matty's wayward curls and opens his mouth like he's about to say something profound, but all he says is, "I'm here if you do wanna talk about it."

Matty nods, but he stays quiet. He kind of knows why he needed to cry, the words just aren't quite there. It had been A Day, even though it's barely midday. The interviewer had been full of pressing questions that hit just a little bit too close to home for Matty to feel comfortable answering, so all his answers had been awkward and full of stuttering and lots of words that made it sound like he had a lot to say but amounted to nothing. The real answers, the ones that were too honest and personal for a magazine were still there, and Matty still had to contend with them, no matter what he told the interviewer.

All the real answers are still there, words still lodged in back of Matty's throat. All the answers about all the bad things Matty has done in his life, all the poor choices he's made and the ones had no doubt are coming done the line because he knows he won't be able to help himself. And somehow, he's here, in a hotel room with a man he loves who loves him on a tour because people care about the art he's making. Matty has everything he's ever wanted and he can't shake the feeling that he's going to lose it.

"George?" Matty asks after a while, words muffled slightly by George's chest.

"Yeah, love?"

"I, erm, I'm sorry. I think."

"What're ya sorry for?"

Matty pauses for a moment, then, "I don't know. I just am."

"Did you do something you need to be sorry for?"

Matty shakes his head. "I don't think so. I just, I don't think I'm a very good person. I know I love you. I know I care about the fans. I know I care about what I think we're trying to do. I just don't think that I'm a very good person. Fundamentally."

"That's not true, Matty. It's not. No one but you thinks it is. I don't even think you think it is most of the time."

Matty sighs. "Interviewer this morning kept asking questions I couldn't really answer. It was all too honest." He pauses. "Dunno. Maybe I'm just feelin' sorry for myself. I'll feel better in a bit."

George presses a kiss into Matty's curls and says, "Well, I'm here. I'm always here and I always love you."

"Thanks," Matty murmurs. "Really. Thank you."

----

*This is adult content, proceed accordingly*

10. "Tell me what you want, baby."

Matty has been in a mood all day, snappish and short and argumentative with everyone. Well, everyone but George. With George he's been almost sickly sweet, like he's trying to ask for something without coming out and saying it. George knows exactly what that something is, of course, but he's also not going to let Matty get off that easily. He'll have to ask for what he wants. They have the time and the space. All Matty has to do is ask.

Matty urges George toward the bed when they get back to the hotel room, never mind that they're still in their street clothes, practically draping himself over George when they lay down. It makes him feel small. George has been taller than him, broader than him, bigger than him, since they were teenagers, but he's filled out and gained some muscle in the past few years, both of which have helped him look less small next to George. Still, he can't change the fact that he's simply shorter and less broad than George, and despite his complaints and instance that he's not short, sometimes Matty likes that George makes him feel small.

George lets quiet settle over the room for a bit, listening to Matty's even breathing. After a while, Matty trails his hand up George's shirt, and presses a collection of kisses to the underside of his jaw, asking without the words.

"Matty," George warns.

"What?" Matty asks, feigning innocence.

"Tell me what you want, baby," George murmurs, low and dangerous in Matty's ear.

"You," is Matty's automatic response. "I want you."

"You've got me," George responds, pushing.

"You know what I mean," Matty tries. "Don't make me ask. I hate asking."

George smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Matty's forehead. He know Matty hates actually asking, be it for a hug or some cuddling, or to be tied up and fucked until he can't think. "I know," he says quietly "But you know the rules, Matthew. I can't read your mind. You have to tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me like you don't like me."  

George runs his hand up Matty's spine, and takes a fistful of hair at the back of his head. "Like I don't like you?" he asks.

Matty nods as much as he can, and says, "Yeah. I want you to be rough, treat me like my pleasure is secondary."

George tugs a little bit on Matty's hair, then lets go, and says, "Why don't you go get the lube and get yourself ready for me?"

Matty nods and scrambles to his feet. He digs through their luggage for a few moments, then strips out of his clothes before retuning to the bed. He pauses for a just a moment, then, in a small voice, like he's expecting a negative answer, asks, "Can I suck you off? Please?"

George sits up and cups Matty's jaw, thumb coming to rest on his lower lip, and says, "You wanna suck me off?"

Matty nods. He looks half desperate.

"Alright," George agrees. "Get on your knees."

Matty tosses the lube on the bed and drops to his knees as soon as George tells him to with a dull thud from knees hitting the carpet.

George stands, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans, then stroking himself to full hardness, and says, "Eager little thing, aren't you?"

Matty would protest being called 'little,' but he can't really find it in himself to be upset about it, not now. He just nods.

"Go on, then," George urges.

So Matty takes George into his mouth, eager and full of want. George gives him a bit to adjust, then takes a fistful of Matty's hair and uses it to take a little bit more control. Matty lets him, lets him take, lets him have. When George finally uses his grip to guide Matty's mouth off his cock, Matty is flushed and teary and completely desperate. George helps him to his feet and pulls him in for a kiss that's almost too gentle, then guides Matty to the bed.

Matty looks up like he's looking for some kind of affection or gentleness, but "Get yourself ready," is all George says.

"But-"

"You do what I tell you," George interrupts. "Now get yourself ready."

Matty sniffs and nods, stilly teary, and does as he's told, slicking his fingers and reaching behind himself. It takes only takes a few minutes for Matty to try again, saying, "George, please. Please help. I can't, I can't reach, please?"

George's voice is full of mocking sympathy when he says, "Aw, poor thing. Can't do anything yourself, can you?"

Matty shakes his head and repeats, "Please?"

"Get on your hands and knees, then," George decides, shedding the rest if his clothes. He kneels behind Matty on the bed and sinks two fingers into his hole, avoiding his prostate. Matty whimpers when George adds a third finger, but he chokes on his little noises when George angles several firm strokes into his prostate and shifts so he can press his face into a pillow to muffle his whimpers. Before Matty can get too used to it, George removes his fingers and leans down to press a gentle kiss to Matty's shoulder and ask, "Ready, love?"

Matty nods. "Yeah, 'm ready. Fuck me, please."

"So polite," George murmurs, squeezing Matty's hip. "So sweet, so good for me, aren't you?"

Matty nods. "'m good," he promises.

Matty chokes on a sob when George sinks inside, but he's quick to urge George to keep moving. George fucks him slow at first, then gets a little faster and little rougher as Matty adjusts. When Matty reaches for his own cock, hard and neglected,  George wraps an arm around him and urges him to sit up so his back is against George's chest.

"You're gonna let me make you cum or you're not gonna cum," George says, tugging Matty's hand away.

Matty lets out another sob, but he nods, clinging to George's arm still wrapped around him and lets his head fall back against George's shoulder. He whines every time George hits his prostate and before long, he's begging George to touch him. George ignores Matty until he's properly crying and begging, desperately on the edge.

"Please," Matty chokes out. "Please touch me, George, please, please, please. I need it, please. Please."

"You poor thing," George murmurs in Matty's ear. "You're gonna cum just like this."

Matty doesn't respond, but he begins trying to follow George's thrusts with his own hips, and finally, with a particularly well placed thrust, he cums, crying out a little too loud for a hotel room. He slumps fully against George after that, exhausted, letting himself be used, until George cums, too.

George is gentle when he pulls out and helps Matty lay down, pressing another kiss to his shoulder and promising to be back soon before he goes to the bathroom for a towel to clean up. Matty protests when George leaves, and protests a bit more when George urges him to move a bit to clean up.

"You did so well," George murmurs when he lays back down with Matty, holding him close. "You were so good for me. How do you feel?"

"Like you love me," Matty responds quietly, the inverse of what he'd asked George for in the beginning.

"I do," George responds, smiling. "I really do."

[targaryenvodka]

those notes

warnings - 18+ please! suicide mentioned briefy, overall poor mental health depicted

word count - 1k

authors note - this concept is just a big ol' cup of existential dread. please don't bother reading it if you're not in the proper headspace to <3

aemond has definitely written those notes. they’re like suicide notes, but not quite. they’re explanations of who he is and what he means.

he doesn’t really expect anyone to ever find them. he doesn’t intend on killing himself any time soon, but there is still a real possibility that he could be gone from this earth tomorrow.

that thought alone terrifies him, if he were gone without explaining, without closing all the loose ends. if religion is real, there is no way he could rest in peace without everyone knowing what he meant, regardless of who or what actually took his life.

so occasionally, he writes. everything in his mind. things he always meant to say but never did. stories he always wanted to tell. risks he was always afraid to take. the only time in his life he’s totally honest is on those sheets of paper. they’re death notes, not suicide notes. they are his legacy.

he keeps them, reads them from time to time. sometimes months go in between writing, sometimes, only a few weeks. aemond only explains himself when he thinks he needs to. he tells stories of his days and the people that matter. of moments in his life he’d like to be remembered by.

some writing breaks are longer than others. if he’s happy enough, he doesn’t worry about death.

today is not one of those days. snow falls thick and heavy, draping over the trees and rocks.

aemond doesn’t know what to do with his mind- it whirls, whipping through questions and half-answers, searching for the solution to his problem. 

what is his problem? he doesn’t even know that. his thoughts just frantically search, jumping from one memory to the next, digging at water with cupped hands. the river of his mind rushes by as he reaches for meaning, purpose, understanding, anything-

so he drives. deep into the mountains. it's early afternoon, and he's got to be home by five, but time loses all meaning when he loses himself in the storm.

he’s lucky that snow drops from the sky. it packs the space above his head with cotton, smothering it in the cold mute air. colors are softer and the cold is sharp on his bright pink cheeks as the wind and snow whips through his open windows.

he follows his hands, pulling the car off the twisted road and onto a small patch of dirt. he’s out of the car and on the ground before he can stop himself, shoving his hands over his ears in an effort to make the world slow down.

who is he? what the fuck is wrong with him? what if he dies? what if he never does anything? what if this is the best he ever is?

a strangled groan escapes his reddened lips as he struggles to his feet, eyes wild in fear. the snow stains his jeans darker and his hands bright red as he trips down a path, protected by trees. they weigh over him, heavy with thick snow, as a sob is pulled out of him by the wind. where does he go when he’s dead? what if he doesn’t go anywhere? should he be religious? are any gods real? is anything real?

the sky is thick and heavy and cold and he finds himself overlooking a gulch. ragged boots slipping on the cold stone, he climbs over the railing and onto the dark, angry rocks.

wind batters him and snow flicks against his skin, scaring away some of his thoughts.

carefully, but with not enough caution, he makes his way to the edge. no normal person would walk to the lip of the stone; but aegon isn’t even sure he’s a person at this point.

glancing over, he expects to be terrified by the drop. at least a hundred feet. the trees below him reach out to him, arms pleading for embrace. it does not scare him. that is what scares him. he is not afraid of what he should be- he worries about beyond death, about what he leaves behind and what, if anything, is forward. he does not want to die, but he isn’t afraid of it. the wind pulls at his hair, his mouth, his soul. it asks him what is beyond. it asks him to jump.

he walks towards the edge, dazed. in a trance. what is beyond? what will he leave behind? he’s written enough notes that they will know. they will know that he did not want to kill himself, that he just wanted to die. the wind agrees. he will be fine. the trees are ready to embrace. he just wants to see what death looks like.

Death.

aemond's mind catches on that. he shakes his head violently, snapping himself out of the trace. jumping back from the edge, he falls on his back, slamming his elbows into the ground. the cold returns instantly, shouting at him. questioning who he is and what he is and what he is here for, while blood sticks to the inside of his coat.

aemond glances at the edge, then reaches in his pocket for the notepad he always keeps. the pen is next to it, comforting, ready to speak.

the wind speaks, but it cannot touch him. the frozen stone holds him in place as he writes until everything is out. he knows it could take years, but he doesn’t care- as long as he’s home by five.

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

Pt. 9: Just Golden

The tests were relentless, one after another until finally it was time for Asher to be paired with Alastor.

They had been teleported to a swamp-like area, and Asher realized it was made to resemble the swamps of New Orleans, a place Asher vaguely remembers visiting in her past life.

Asher was about to begin trudging through waist length swamp water to reach another area of the swamp, when Alastor grabs her by the waist with a tight grip and halts her. His hand lingers, claws digging into the supple flesh of her gray stomach before retracting as Alastor summoned a bridge made of shadows.

"I guess that works." She says, looking up at the Radio Demon.

His usual grin was in place as he chuckled before gesturing for her to go ahead and cross.

"Ladies first." He nearly purred, his eyes giving her nothing but a neutral glint.

She shrugs before doing so, her tail swishing back and forth as she looked around the swamp. It held a melancholic type of beauty to it. Alastor follows behind her, noticing a name on her lower back that had been crossed out.

"My dear, pardon me but.. what is the name on your back for?" He asked, walking slightly faster so he could match her pace.

"It's a demon I made a deal with, he died sometime last year. I reckon it was the extermination or another overlord." At that, Alastor was slightly taken back.

"You make deals?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Rarely. I've made five the entire time I've been in Hell." She answers as they step off of the bridge and it dissipates. Alastor hums at the information.

-♡

"It's odd, we've only got five more minutes until the test is over and we've not been attacked." Asher comments before seeing a doe on the trail ahead of them.

"That's because this last test is meant to be peaceful." Alastor tells her, hands clasped behind his back.

"Wait, seriously?" She asked, golden eyes peering up at the red demon.

"Indeed my dear." He said his grin much softer than she's used to.

The softer disposition of the Radio Demon takes her slightly by surprise and her ears furrow slightly. "Come, my dear. Let us settle for the next few minutes until Charlie pulls us out." Alastor says, holding his arm out for her.

She tilts her head slightly in confusion. "I thought you despised touch?" She asked.

"I do, unless I consent to it or initiate it." He told her, and she relaxed before laying her right hand in the crease of his elbow and her left hand on his upper arm.

The fabric of his waist coat was soft, but not soft like a false fur, it felt like a mixture between satin and cotton, it was a nice feeling and the feeling plus the warmth Alastor radiated drew her smaller, colder self into him as they walked to a bench.

Once sitting down, Asher removed her hands from his arm and folded them in her lap. Two minutes left, and as they waited, a doe with a very soft colored fur coat approached them, her snout blew out smoke before she lowered her head briefly at Asher.

Asher reached out slowly, tempted to touch the doe. The doe met her in the middle, pressing her snout against Asher's hand gently. Alastor watched quietly before joining in, scratching the deer gently between her ears. Asher smiled, having never gotten to see a deer so close up, let alone pet one.

Her eyes glowed gold as she revelled in the tranquility of the moment, the scene beginning to fade too early for her liking until finally they were standing in the parlor of the hotel, the doe long forgotten by now. Alastor was mesmerized by how gentle someone in Hell could be, she was just golden in his eyes in that moment.

[philosophicalparadox]

I wanted to ask a question, usually you know a lot of information. If you don't know, you can ignore. Landsknechts did not have one leg covered and in one post I read that "it was so pike drills could be carried out with greater dexterity." How is this related? Can I have more details? Thank you in advance <3<3

To put it simply: because clothes get in the way of movement.

There are actually two parts to this answer - one a matter of comfort and the other a matter of practicality.

You have to remember that the types of textiles available in the 16th and 17th centuries, while more expansive than before, were still basically linen. This was especially true of fighting attire, because linen is tough and durable and actually quite sword-proof if you weave it right. It also takes up dyes better than cotton, which had its uses, but was not the most common crop at the time courtesy the fact only Spain was producing it in any measurable quantity because they could use New World species with higher yields right at home and abroad and were the first to discover them.

Point is, while linen is fairly flexible, it’s a lot stiffer than cotton. Think pure polyester fabric but a little bit softer, or like a course denim weave. It has very little elasticity, which makes it very sturdy stuff, but not always the most comfortable material to do intense, fast physical labor in, because it chaffes.

In fact, chaffing was a pretty big problem for military attire, to such a degree that all sorts of remedies and solutions were tried, with talc (powdered gypsum or marble) or straight up chalk being the most common. But it doesn’t take long to note that talc becomes almost useless once it’s wet, and whether doing drills or battle, you’re gonna sweat.

So, one way around that was just, not to put fabric around the joints. Problem with that is that joints are vulnerable in battle, and every man fighting you has been trained from the ages of six to eight to specifically target your joints with deadly accuracy.

But, 99% of the time you’re not going to be in battle, but you ARE going to be doing drills. Lots and lots and lots and lots of drills. Every day, up to five times a day and maybe once in the middle of the night. As a mercenary you live, breathe, eat and sleep war as your profession. It was not just a job, it was their LIFE. All the more so for Landsknecht, who had been doing war and killing as their primary profession for anywhere from thirty to forty years, being mostly retired knights.

Point is, when you start out as a Page, age ten, up through your Squire years as a tween, you’ve got no choice but to wear full attire when you train, because you’ve got to get used to it. The chaffing, the sweating, the awkward way fabric buckles around the knees when you crouch, the irritation of the neck seam soaked in salty, itchy sweat; you just gotta power through it and let your skin adapt.

But when you’ve been doing daily drills in those clothes for forty years, at some point you just go “you know, I’m not as agile as I used to be, and that’s more important right now” and just ditch the clothes that are in your way unless you really need them in favor of moving more comfortably and therefore more confidently. Yes, they’d been drilling for forty years, but they were not immune to aging and it was easy to feel like they were losing condition since there was a huge bias against age related deterioration, so if anything those forty, fifty, sometimes sixty year old men did more drills and more intense work than when they were twenty and just entering knighthood. They had to, or their bodies would cripple.

After all it wasn’t like they weren’t accustomed to the clothing being in their way, so if they needed it it wasn’t going to be a hurdle.

But, also, oddly, the clothing was not always seen as necessary. There are trade offs in battle; either you’re wearing very little and have greater dexterity, or you’re wearing a lot and can tank a hit.

Landsknecht had an advantage in this trade off - they were pikemen and lancemen. Pikes, in case you don’t know, are about twenty feet/five meters long - pleeeeenty long enough to keep your enemy safely away from your tender bits if you know what you are doing. Situated in front of these pikes in formation there were lances, which are about ten feet /three meters long, also plenty long enough, and sufficient to cover the distance between pikeman and spearhead in case anyone did come that close.

And they definitely knew their stuff. All knights were trained to a spear-like weapon, regardless of their preferred speciality, at some point in their training, because spears, pikes, estocs and halberds all are A) really really common, and often something that can be reached for if all else fails and B) extremely good at keeping a guy with a sword or bludgeon far enough away from you that he can’t kill you, while also giving you a literal edge. Plus spears specifically (which are four to six feet long) require the least amount of specified training.

Pikes are a little more unwieldy, as are lances, and require a lot of dexterity and stamina to use. So Landsknecht were never going to be able to wear heavy armor or clothing anyway, and, being specialists with sufficient confidence in their ability not to get in range of an opponent, having been doing this type of stuff for decades, some just decided to forego some of the stiff fabric in favor of being just that much more able to move quickly to or fro; after all, the better part of the dexterity needed to use a pike or lance was in the legs, since thrusting with those weapons uses the entire body.

Hope that answers your question!

[random2908]

I mean... OP is from Australia, I think? As are some of the other commenters? This isn't entirely about the US.

In America, the degree to which this is unadorned truth versus exaggeration depends what you're buying. I expect a sweatshirt to last at least five years of daily wear; however, I don't wash them unless they are visibly dirty or it's been, like, several months. I expect a t-shirt to last about 5 years in rotation where I might wear it once every 2 weeks and wash it regularly. My winter jacket was purchased 16 or 17 years ago (from a random store at the mall) and my fall jacket was purchased 8 years ago (from Kohl's, a mid-range department store), and although my winter jacket doesn't fit all that well anymore, neither jacket is nearing the end of its lifetime. I generally keep 2-4 pairs of jeans in rotation, washing them about monthly, and expect them to last about 3 years. My dad bought me two bed sets from Target (cheap department store) 20 years ago, and for a long time I just alternated between them; the fitted sheet on one of them tore after about 7 years and the other lasted 19 years. (Admittedly, I'm apparently really gentle with all of my possessions, because my electronics, furniture, etc also seem to last relatively long.)

So yeah, some stuff lasts. However.

My jeans that wear through in 3 years, first of all, would wear through in a couple months if I treated them like a child would--I know this with some certainty because I do occasionally tear them at work. Whereas when I was a child in the 80s/90s, my jeans lasted 1-2 years of running around and falling down. And some people have jeans from the 1970s that are still wearable. So yeah, my jeans don't wear out in a season, but they do last at most 1/2 as long, probably a lot less than that, compared to jeans of decades ago. And you can feel that the fabric is much thinner.

I remember in 1998, on a road trip, my mom bought me a t-shirt from a t-shirt stand, for $5, and the material felt completely different. Much softer, much thinner, than any of my other t-shirts. (I was 15, so I'd had a lot of time to learn what a t-shirt should feel like.) But it still said 100% cotton--it wasn't a different material, just a worse construction. These days, it's the other way around: I have exactly one t-shirt with the texture of the ones of my childhood, and all the rest feel like that one cheap shirt. And all but that one t-shirt has ripped on my belt buckle no matter how well I file down any sharp edges, because the shirts are so thin and flimsy. Sure, I usually wear these shirts for about 5-6 years until the holes are bad enough that they aren't presentable. The design has usually all the way worn off by then. But I was still wearing t-shirts from middle school when I was in grad school, and some of them had almost no degradation of the design (luckily when I was in middle school oversize t-shirts were in, so they fit properly when I was a young adult). Also, the t-shirts from my childhood, when they finally wore out when I was an adult, it was because the seams ripped. The t-shirts from my adulthood, when they wear out, it's because holes tear in the fabric itself.

So far I've been mostly talking about all-cotton clothing, except for the sweatshirts, and sometimes the jeans, which are a mix. The synthetic stuff falls apart a lot quicker. I have a dress that I've worn twice, that I washed once (careful of the instructions on the tag) and it's already pilling. Pilling means significant fabric loss, which means its days are number until it's ready to tear.

So yeah, a lot of generic clothing does last longer than people are saying--but some doesn't. And even so, the failure still happens a lot faster than it used to, and the failure points are in different places than they used to be.

I'm so pissed right now. I know that fabric has been declining in quality for a while but I just bought new pajamas from kmart and they are literally see through. Not just through one layer of fabric either; I can see through the leg, that is, through 2 layers of fabric. These aren't clothes. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have strained soup through cheesecloth thicker than these pants. These are men's flannel pajamas, the kind people wear in winter, and they are made if shittier thinner fabric than even the most bargain bin bullshit halloween costumes. This "flannel" feels like plastic and is thinner than a chux wipe. Why is this even for sale.

[lakorahome]

5 Reasons to Switch to Washed Cotton Bed Sheets Today

Choosing the right bed sheets can significantly impact your sleep quality and overall comfort. While there are numerous options available, washed cotton bed sheets stand out for their exceptional qualities. Here are five compelling reasons why you should consider making the switch today.

Unmatched Comfort for Restful Sleep

Washed cotton bed sheets are celebrated for their softness and comfort, offering a luxurious feel that enhances your sleep experience. The unique washing process these sheets undergo softens the fibers, making them incredibly gentle against your skin. Enhanced Softness: Unlike regular cotton sheets, washed cotton undergoes a special treatment that breaks down fibers, resulting in a much softer texture. This makes them ideal for anyone seeking a cozy and inviting bed. Perfect for Sensitive Skin: The smooth texture of washed cotton minimizes skin irritation, making it perfect for individuals with sensitive skin or those prone to allergies. Say goodbye to rough, scratchy sheets that disrupt your rest. Temperature Regulation: Washed cotton sheets are breathable, allowing air to flow freely. This helps regulate your body temperature, keeping you cool in the summer and warm in the winter. You'll no longer wake up sweating or shivering in the middle of the night.

Exceptional Durability for Long-Term Use

Investing in high-quality washed cotton bed sheets means you're choosing durability that lasts. The washing process not only enhances softness but also strengthens the fibers, ensuring your sheets remain in excellent condition for years. Resistant to Wear and Tear: Washed cotton sheets are designed to withstand regular use without showing signs of wear. They maintain their integrity even after numerous washes, making them a cost-effective choice. Easy Maintenance: These sheets are machine washable and tend to wrinkle less than traditional cotton sheets, saving you time on ironing. Simply toss them in the wash, and they'll come out fresh and ready to use. Color Retention: The washing process also helps maintain the color of the sheets, ensuring they look vibrant and new over time. You can enjoy your favorite hues without worrying about fading.

Hypoallergenic Properties for Healthier Sleep

If you suffer from allergies or have sensitive skin, washed cotton bed sheets are a fantastic choice. The natural fibers and hypoallergenic properties provide a safe and comfortable sleeping environment. Allergy Relief: Washed cotton sheets are less likely to trap dust mites and allergens, providing relief for allergy sufferers. This helps you breathe easier and sleep more soundly. Chemical-Free Production: Many washed cotton sheets are made without harmful chemicals or synthetic dyes, reducing the risk of skin irritation and allergic reactions. You can rest easy knowing your sheets are safe and gentle on your skin. Environmentally Friendly: Choosing organic washed cotton means supporting sustainable farming practices that avoid pesticides and harmful chemicals. This not only benefits your health but also the environment.

Stylish Aesthetics to Elevate Your Bedroom

Washed cotton sheets are available in various colors and styles, allowing you to customize your bedroom decor to match your personal taste. Their natural look and feel add a touch of elegance to any space. Versatile Design: Whether you prefer minimalist, rustic, or modern decor, washed cotton sheets offer a versatile option that complements any style. Their subtle, natural texture adds depth and character to your bedroom. Wide Range of Colors: From soft pastels to bold, vibrant shades, there's a washed cotton sheet set for every color scheme. You can easily switch them up for different seasons or moods. Chic, Lived-In Look: The washed finish gives these sheets a charming, relaxed appearance that looks effortlessly chic. It's the perfect way to create a welcoming and cozy atmosphere in your bedroom.

Eco-Friendly Choice for a Sustainable Lifestyle

Switching to washed cotton bed sheets is a step towards a more sustainable and environmentally conscious lifestyle. Cotton is a renewable resource, and many washed cotton products are made with eco-friendly practices in mind. Biodegradable Material: Unlike synthetic fabrics, washed cotton is biodegradable, reducing your environmental footprint. When it's time to replace your sheets, you can rest assured they won't contribute to landfill waste. Support for Organic Farming: Many washed cotton sheets come from organic farms that prioritize eco-friendly farming practices. This supports biodiversity and reduces the use of harmful chemicals in agriculture. Ethical Production: Look for brands that prioritize fair trade and ethical manufacturing practices. By choosing these products, you're supporting better working conditions and fair wages for workers around the world.

Conclusion

Washed cotton bed sheets offer an unbeatable combination of comfort, durability, style, and sustainability. They provide a restful sleep environment, support your health, and enhance the aesthetic of your bedroom, all while being an eco-friendly choice. By making the switch today, you'll enjoy a better night's sleep and contribute to a more sustainable world. Don't wait—experience the luxury and benefits of washed cotton sheets for yourself! Additional Tips for Choosing the Perfect Washed Cotton Bed Sheets:

Thread Count: Aim for a thread count between 200 and 400 for a balance of softness and durability. Higher thread counts may feel smoother, but washed cotton provides comfort even at lower counts. Check Certifications: Look for OEKO-TEX® or GOTS certifications to ensure your sheets meet high safety and environmental standards. Consider Your Climate: In warmer climates, opt for lighter sheets to keep cool; in colder areas, choose heavier weaves for added warmth. By choosing washed cotton bed sheets, you're not just upgrading your sleep environment—you're investing in quality, comfort, and sustainability. Make the switch today and discover the many benefits these sheets have to offer!

If you want to learn more bedding knowledge, you can read the following articles:

1. Uncover the Benefits of Washed Cotton Bed Sheets for Allergy Sufferers

2. How to Fold Your Flat and Fitted Sheets: A Step by Step Guide from Lakora

3. From Nature to Your Bedroom: The Elegance of Bamboo Quilts

[homerenovationsydney1]

Choosing Luxury Bedding for a Hotel-Like Experience in Your Sydney Home

When it comes to creating a restful and rejuvenating sanctuary in your Sydney home, few elements are as essential as the bedding. Luxury bedding can transform your bedroom into a serene oasis, reminiscent of a five-star hotel experience. With careful selection, you can elevate the comfort, aesthetics, and overall ambiance of your bedroom. This guide will walk you through the key considerations and choices for achieving a hotel-like experience with luxury bedding during your home renovation in Sydney.

Why Invest in Luxury Bedding?

Luxury bedding isn't just about appearance; it’s about enhancing your quality of life. High-quality materials, superior craftsmanship, and thoughtful design contribute to better sleep, improved mood, and a more luxurious living experience. When undertaking a home renovation in Sydney, investing in luxury bedding can be the finishing touch that makes your home truly feel like a personal retreat.

Enhanced Comfort: Luxury bedding is crafted from the finest materials, offering unparalleled softness, breathability, and durability. Whether it’s Egyptian cotton, silk, or bamboo, these materials feel smoother against the skin, reduce irritation, and regulate temperature for a restful night's sleep.

Aesthetic Appeal: Luxury bedding can dramatically change the look of your bedroom. High-thread-count sheets, elegant duvet covers, and decorative pillows create a cohesive and polished appearance, giving your bedroom a high-end, hotel-like feel.

Longevity: Investing in high-quality bedding means it will last longer, maintain its beauty, and perform well over time. Unlike cheaper alternatives, luxury bedding can withstand frequent washing and use without losing its softness or integrity.

Health Benefits: Quality bedding materials are often hypoallergenic and free from harmful chemicals. This is especially important if you have allergies or sensitive skin, as these materials can reduce the likelihood of allergic reactions and skin irritations.

Understanding Bedding Materials

The material of your bedding is the foundation of comfort and luxury. Each material offers unique benefits, and understanding them will help you make an informed choice during your home renovation in Sydney.

Egyptian Cotton: Known as the gold standard in bedding, Egyptian cotton is prized for its long, silky fibers that produce a soft, durable, and breathable fabric. It is often associated with luxury bedding due to its exceptional quality and comfort.

Pima Cotton: Similar to Egyptian cotton, Pima cotton is also known for its softness and strength. It is slightly less expensive than Egyptian cotton but still offers a luxurious feel and great durability.

Linen: Linen bedding is highly breathable, making it ideal for Sydney's warm climate. It has a distinct texture that softens with each wash, providing a relaxed yet elegant look.

Silk: Silk bedding exudes luxury and sophistication. It is naturally hypoallergenic, regulates body temperature, and feels incredibly smooth against the skin. However, silk requires delicate care and may not be suitable for everyone.

Bamboo: Bamboo bedding is an eco-friendly option that offers a silky texture, breathability, and natural moisture-wicking properties. It’s a great choice for those looking for sustainable luxury.

Sateen and Percale Weaves: The weave of the fabric also plays a role in the feel of your bedding. Sateen weave results in a smooth, shiny finish that feels luxurious, while percale offers a crisp, matte texture that’s cool and breathable.

Choosing the Right Thread Count

Thread count is often a key factor in selecting luxury bedding, but higher isn’t always better. Thread count refers to the number of threads woven into a square inch of fabric. While a higher thread count can indicate softer and more durable bedding, other factors like material quality and weave also contribute to the overall feel.

Optimal Thread Count: For luxury bedding, a thread count between 300 and 500 is generally ideal. This range offers a perfect balance of softness, durability, and breathability. Anything above 500 may feel denser, while below 300 could compromise on softness.

Material Over Thread Count: It’s important to prioritize the quality of the material over the thread count. High-quality Egyptian cotton with a lower thread count can feel more luxurious than low-quality cotton with a higher thread count.

The Importance of Bedding Layers

Creating a hotel-like experience involves more than just selecting the right sheets. Layering your bedding adds depth, comfort, and visual appeal to your bedroom.

Sheets: Start with a high-quality fitted sheet and flat sheet. These are the foundation of your bedding and should be soft, breathable, and durable.

Duvet and Duvet Cover: A duvet adds warmth and comfort, while a duvet cover protects it and enhances the aesthetic of your bed. Choose a duvet cover in a luxurious fabric that complements the rest of your bedding.

Pillows: Invest in a variety of pillows, including sleeping pillows and decorative pillows. Sleeping pillows should provide the right balance of support and comfort based on your preferred sleeping position. Decorative pillows add a touch of elegance and style to your bed.

Throw Blankets: A throw blanket adds an extra layer of warmth and texture to your bedding. It can be draped over the foot of the bed or folded neatly for a polished look.

Mattress Topper: A mattress topper enhances the comfort of your mattress, making your bed feel plush and inviting. Choose a topper that complements your mattress type and personal preferences.

Color and Pattern Choices

The color and pattern of your bedding play a significant role in creating a cohesive and luxurious bedroom design. When selecting bedding for your Sydney home renovation, consider the overall aesthetic of your bedroom.

Neutral Tones: Neutral colors like white, beige, and gray are timeless choices that evoke a sense of calm and sophistication. They also make it easy to mix and match other elements of your bedroom décor.

Bold Accents: If you prefer a more dramatic look, consider adding bold accents through pillows, throws, or a statement duvet cover. Deep blues, rich burgundies, and emerald greens can create a luxurious, hotel-like atmosphere.

Patterns: Subtle patterns, such as stripes, herringbone, or damask, add visual interest without overwhelming the space. Opt for patterns in the same color family to maintain a cohesive and elegant look.

Seasonal Updates: Consider updating your bedding seasonally to keep your bedroom fresh and inviting. Lighter colors and fabrics work well in the warmer months, while richer tones and heavier fabrics are ideal for cooler weather.

Caring for Your Luxury Bedding

To maintain the quality and longevity of your luxury bedding, proper care is essential. Follow these tips to ensure your bedding stays in top condition.

Washing: Always follow the manufacturer’s care instructions. Most luxury bedding should be washed in cold water on a gentle cycle. Use mild detergents to avoid damaging the fibers.

Drying: Air-drying your bedding is the best way to preserve its quality. If using a dryer, choose a low heat setting to prevent shrinkage and damage.

Ironing: Iron your bedding on a low heat setting to maintain its smooth and crisp appearance. For linen bedding, embrace the natural wrinkles for a more relaxed look.

Storage: Store your bedding in a cool, dry place when not in use. Use breathable storage bags to protect it from dust and moisture.

FAQs

1. What is the best material for luxury bedding in Sydney’s climate?For Sydney's varying climate, linen and Egyptian cotton are excellent choices. Linen is highly breathable and perfect for warmer months, while Egyptian cotton provides comfort and warmth during cooler weather.

2. How often should I replace my luxury bedding?Luxury bedding can last for several years with proper care. However, it’s advisable to replace your bedding every 2-3 years to maintain optimal comfort and hygiene.

3. Can I mix and match different bedding materials?Yes, mixing and matching different materials can add texture and depth to your bedding. For example, you can pair a silk pillowcase with Egyptian cotton sheets for a blend of luxury and comfort.

4. How do I choose the right pillow for my luxury bedding?Consider your sleeping position when choosing a pillow. Back sleepers may prefer medium support, side sleepers often need firmer pillows, and stomach sleepers should opt for softer options to maintain neck alignment.

5. Is luxury bedding worth the investment?Absolutely. Investing in luxury bedding enhances your sleep quality, improves your bedroom's aesthetic, and provides long-term durability, making it a worthwhile addition to your home renovation in Sydney.

Conclusion

Choosing luxury bedding during your home renovation Sydney is an investment in both comfort and style. With careful selection of materials, attention to thread count, and thoughtful layering, you can create a bedroom that offers a hotel-like experience every night. Whether you’re drawn to the softness of Egyptian cotton, the breathability of linen, or the elegance of silk, luxury bedding can transform your bedroom into a personal sanctuary. By following this guide, you’ll be well on your way to enjoying the ultimate in comfort and luxury right in your own home.