#glimmer I love and adore you sorry if I never made it around your blog to Scream

[deadstarsrisingsblog]

Whoever harassed @glimmerglanger to the point that they DELETED THEIR AO3 AND LEFT: count your motherfuckin days.

[genshin-obsessed]

Your blog is everything I wanted and more. Im a lurker for your writings ahaha if you can guess who i am 👀

How about the guys reacting to s/o's death. Can be a group writing but if its too much, just Diluc, Childe, Razor and Kaeya would be nice. I think they would have interesting reactions >:3

First of all, Anon. I LOVE YOU. I wanted to write this out but thought it might be a bit too much but then you went and requested it!! I guess I have no choice but to write this out! >:) (That’s also why I did all the characters) second. Guess who you are o: may I get a hint? I have 2 people in my mind tho o: Warnings: Death, mentions of blood, angst. Pure angst.

Sidenote: The woman in this is my OC named Toxin! Whenever I need a really big, bad villain, she’s my go-to! That’s all!

Includes: Aether, Kaeya, Venti, Diluc, Razor, Xiao, Xingqiu, and Childe!

Scaramouche & Zhongli Here | Part 2 Here

You Die!

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you, desperate for an escape. A scream erupted from your lips as the ground shook beneath you, causing you to stumble and fall over. You had received an emergency request to help fight… someone. The request wasn’t very detailed but someone needed help and you couldn’t turn your back on them. So, you went ahead and tried to help.

You should’ve been careful. You should’ve brought help. But you didn’t and you were paying for your stupidity. The person that you were fighting was strong. She was tall, pale, and had long black hair. Her unearthly glowing green eyes were terrifying. She was fast and all of your attacks were unable to touch her.

As you ran, only one thought crossed your mind. The smiling image of your boyfriend. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to run. How you wished you could be in his arms, feeling safe and sound.

As you ran out of the forest and down the field, the woman appeared in front of you, catching you in her arms and stabbing you with a poison dagger. You shrieked as your hands curled around her clothes. The sharp pain turned into a burning sensation and you looked up at her. Her face was inches away and she smirked, her eyes glowing bright by the second.

“Finally. But you’re not the only one I wanted to break.” What? What did she mean? Her head turned to the left and you followed her gaze and the second you saw what she was looking at, your heart shattered.

The woman pulled the dagger out and it seemed to vanish as she smirked at your boyfriend. The tears slid down your cheeks as you weakly reached out to him for help.

“(F/N)!” His heart stopped as he watched the woman disappear and you fall to the floor. He sprinted to you, picking you up in his arms as blood poured out of the wound. “H-hey! Hey, keep your eyes open! J-Just stay awake!” He held your head against his chest, trying to calm himself, but how could he? You were bleeding out in front of him. 

He looked down and ran his fingers along your cheek as your skin started to turn purple. The poison had taken its effect and it was moving fast. You were leaving, you would leave him just like Lumine left him. He was gonna be alone all over again.

“A-Aether… I-I l-love you.”

“I love you too! You’ll be fine, everything’s g-gonna be ok.” Who was he kidding? You weren’t going to make it. But he couldn’t admit it. Aether still had yet to find Lumine and he’d never gotten over losing her. You, you were his light. You were his guiding start. You were his moon, his everything. 

To think that he could lose you? No, no! He didn’t want it. He didn’t want a world without you. A world without you was pure torture. So why? Why was the universe so hellbent on taking things away from him? Why did it demand everything precious to him?!

Why you? 

A pained cry left his lips as your hand fell to your side and that light disappeared from your eyes. “N-no. No, no, no, no! W-wake up! Please wake up! Do-don’t leave me! Don’t you leave me too! Not like this! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” He held your lifeless body against him, his head pressed against your chest. He couldn’t hear it… he couldn’t hear your heartbeat.

“No… NO!” He ran as fast as his feet could carry him and caught you before you hit the ground. The woman had disappeared but he didn’t care. You were… you were dying! How could he stop it? He wanted to stop the bleeding, he wanted to stop the way your color was changing, he wanted to stop time!

“K-Kaeya… h-how-”

“I was told to come here. A messenger came to me and said you called me and told me to come here.” He explained, taking your cold hand into his, pressing a kiss against it.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“No. Don’t apologize and don’t close your eyes. Please, just stay up a little longer.” He wanted to pick you up and run to the nearest doctor, but he knew… it wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t make it. He’d never felt so worthless and weak. He swore to protect you and keep you safe and now that you needed him… he was useless.

“T-tired…” Slowly, your eyes closed and your hand fell limp in his. Kaeya’s eyes widened as the tears slid down his cheek.

“(f-f/n)? B-baby! No, wait! Don’t do this! Pl-please no!” He took your hand and pressed it against his cheek, but the second he loosened his grip, it fell. Kaeya shook his head, tears flooding down his cheek as a scream erupted from his mouth. “(F/N)!!!”

Slow. He was too slow. Why couldn’t he be fast enough?! That woman, he knew her. He knew her and he vowed to hunt her down and tear her to shreds. But right now…

Venti picked you up with trembling hands, letting his now bloodied hands touch your cheek. He couldn’t even talk, his voice quivered as he looked down into your eyes. No. This wasn’t happening. You weren’t going to leave him like this.

“H-hey, love. E-everything’s going to be just fine. You’re fine.” He tried to keep his smile up but it was so damn hard when he knew the truth. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t even lie to himself. You were slipping away and all he could do was watch. He knew he was the weakest of all archons but why? Why couldn’t he be a little bit stronger to save you.

“I-I wa-wanna sl-sleep-”

“NO!” He frowned and pressed a kiss to your lips. “No, don’t sleep. Not yet. Just stay awake a little longer and then we can both sleep together tonight.” You weakly nodded, but you couldn’t stay awake any longer. You felt like you were moving, but your body was slowly going numb, until everything disappeared. “(f/n)? (f-f/n)? H-hey! Hey this isn’t a joke! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP!”

The second he saw the woman step away from you, a fiery phoenix flew towards her, but she’d disappeared before it could hit her. Diluc ran to you as he watched your body fall to the ground.

He fell to his knees and quickly picked you up, shaking you a little. There was something that snapped inside. He’d always kept his composure, but after seeing what had happened, his emotions burst out of him. He wasn’t in control of anything. He couldn’t control his thoughts, emotions… or your death.

“It’ll be fine! Everything’s fine!” He said, pressing his hand to the wound. You winced at the pain as your skin started to turn purple and blood spilled out of your mouth.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” He shook his head, taking your face in his hands.

“No. I’m sorry. I sh-should’ve gotten here faster.” He was still trying to convince himself you were going to be fine, but deep down, he knew the truth. He knew the ugly truth that was coming up.

“D-Diluc… y-you’re pretty.” His eyes clenched shut at your words as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Don’t leave. Th-there are so many things I-I want to do with you. Pl-please don’t leave me. Wh-what d-do I do?” You smiled weakly at him.

“Y-you b-be the Darknight H-hero…” He scoffed and looked down at you.

“Without you… I’m nothing.” You wanted to say more, you wanted to deny his words, but you were so tired. Slowly, the world faded away and you could no longer hear his cries. “No! NO! NO!! DON’T DO THIS TO ME! STOP! COME BACK! PLEASE BRING MY (F/N) BACK!”

The wolf within had appeared but he wasn’t able to catch up before the woman disappeared. He ran to you and picked you up, seeing the blood gushing out of the wound.

“N-no! (f/n)!” Tears flooded his eyes as he watched your color turn purple. That woman, she reeked of poison so she must’ve poisoned you.

“Shhh…” You muttered, holding your hand to his cheek. “D-don’t c-cry.” He didn’t know what to do. He felt so lost and helpless, but the worst part… he knew what was coming. He shook his head vehemently and tried to pick you up, but you let out a cry of pain, making him lower you back down.

“I c-can save you!”

“I-it’s ok… it’s ok, Razor. I… I’ll be ok.” He hated those words. He hated everything you were saying so much. Razor adored you, he missed you every second he couldn't be with you and normally, he’d never hate your words. But today… right now, he hated how right you were. He shook his head as the tears slid down his cheeks as he felt you slip away.

“Do-don’t do this t-to me. Not you too… they left me. Why do you want to leave me too?” You weakly tugged him down and made him kiss you, but half way through the kiss, he felt your head fall back and he knew. You were gone.

He knew that woman that had done this to you. He knew her and he was going to make sure she paid. But right now… right now you were more important. Xiao took you in his arms as tears started to fill his eyes. He’d never felt like this before and he hated feeling like this.

You made him feel so powerful, so invincible, so untouchable. But right now, he felt so vulnerable and broken. If he had been faster, if he had just gotten here faster he could’ve saved you. He could’ve been hugging you, seeing your skin bright with life, seeing your glimmering eyes, seeing that dazzling smile. But no, he was a failure.

A sob escaped his lips as he watched you starting to slip away. He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“D-don’t do this. Pl-please don’t leave me. Y-you pro-promised you w-wouldn’t do this to me!” He looked down at you but you still had that angelic smile on your face. Why? Why would you do this?! You touched his cheek and spoke; your voice was a quiet whisper, but he heard it.

“I-I love y-you, Xiao…” He shook his head and glared at the sky before shutting his eyes. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see this happening to you.

“I love you too. S-so much.” He felt your body go limp and another sob escaped his lips. “Y-you pr-promised you’d c-come back to me.” He raised your face closer to him and pressed a kiss against your lips. “P-please come back to me. I-I can’t live without you… I do-don’t want to.”

He sprinted down the hill towards where you lay, gathering you in his arms when he was at the bottom. He didn’t know what to do, there was so much blood, so much poison, and no hope. He fell beside you and pressed his hands onto the wound as blood gushed out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, it’s ok, it’s ok, everything’s just fine!” You winced in pain in your torso, but it didn’t last very long. It only took a minute before you lost feeling in your legs and arms.

“Xingqiu… i-it hurts.”

“I know, I know and I’m so sorry! If I was faster, I could’ve helped you. It’ll be ok, I promise, my love. I won’t stop until you’re taken care of.” Why didn’t he believe his own words? Maybe it was the fading light in your eyes, maybe it was the color draining from your face, maybe it was the sheer amount of blood that poured from the wound… but Xingqiu didn’t have a single ounce of hope. Why? Why was the world doing this to him? Why was it punishing you like this? Did he do something? Did he commit a sin that was so unforgivable that the universe or the gods would punish someone as sweet and amazing as you?

He wanted to cry, but he bit his lip to hold the tears back. His eyes were glossy and his vision was blurry, but he refused to cry. He wasn’t going to show you the fleeting hope in him. He wasn’t going to show you that he was  a liar.

“Xingqiu… w-will y-you g-give me one l-last kiss?” His head snapped to you and he shook his head.

“It won’t be our last kiss! We’ll have more chances. We’ll have so many more chances.” He did kiss you however. It was short and sweet, as he returned to applying pressure onto the wound. His eyes flickered to you for a second before his entire body tensed. You were staring at the sky… with dull, lifeless eyes. “(f-f/n)? H-hey… hey wake up.” He gently shook your shoulders. “Hey, stop. Th-this isn’t funny! I know you like playing tricks on me but this isn’t funny! St-stop!!” Finally, he broke. He laid his head on your chest as his tears started to flow. 

“NO!” Oh, he knew that woman well. He’d worked with her once. She was, indeed, powerful. She was a killing machine and there was a time where he was impressed by her. But right now he felt nothing but pure hatred for her. But that had to wait, because you… you were dying.

Childe pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest and kissing your head. He was trembling and his emotions were a mess. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he looked down at you. The wound oozed with red and purple, so he knew you’d been poisoned.

“H-hey, darling. You ok? Everything’s just gonna be ok, you hear me?” You gave him a weak nod as you looked down at the wound. However, he took your face and made you look up at him. “No, no. Just look at me. Nothing but me.”

“I-I won’t… I’m tired.”

“HEY! Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes on me! Everything’s going to be fine! Everything… everything is fine. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare even think about leaving me. Don’t you… don’t do it. Please, god I’m begging you (f/n)! Don’t leave me all alone in this world!”

“I-I ca-can’t stay…”

“Yes, y-yes you can! You can’t leave me, please d-don’t.. I-I don’t know what to do! What am I supposed to do?! Just go on, pretending everything’s ok?! JUST PRETEND LIKE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE DIDN’T LEAVE ME?!”

“Shh… d-don’t get so angry.”

“I-” He sighed, taking in a shaky breath, “I love you so much i-it’s hard to breathe without you. Do-don’t take away m-my reason for li-living.” You didn’t answer. You only weakly smiled before your eyes closed and your head fell back. Childe’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “N-no. No- HEY! No, no, no! Please no!” He held you against his chest as he let out a scream. What else could he do besides cry.

Your boyfriend stood up, holding you tightly in his arms. There was only one thought in his mind as he glared in the direction the woman had gone. 

There was nothing left for him. So he wouldn’t stop; he would relentlessly hunt that woman down and tear her apart completely. That way, she could feel an ounce of his pain.

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Seven- Mommy Issues

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: mommy issues, mother abandonment, anger, maybe some mistakes, tell me if I missed anything

Description: y/n has always wanted answers about her mother, but the truth seems more harsh than what she had in mind.

A/n : hello, hello friends. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had absolutely no inspiration, lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyyyy! :) (also I know the gif is terrible quality but I really wanted to put this clip and I couldn’t find any cleaner option to make a gif)

Previously

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation

Gif made by me!

As a child, y/n never realized how her family was different than the others. A lot of kids on the cut had single parents, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her mom had left when she was only three, to go pursue her dream job in Colorado. It wasn’t a bad thing in the girl’s eyes. It didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

As she blossomed into adolescence, y/n finally understood how unconventional her family was. She heard the other girls at her school talk about their mothers. About the cakes they made or the precious moments they spent together. Mother-daughter bonding moments. She had to admit it she felt jealous. Or maybe was it envious?

She had lived all her life without a mother to kiss her scraped knees or braid her hair before going to sleep. And she would have given anything to experience it, even for one single night.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother or her father, far from it, she adored them. They were both so precious to her. Still, she felt as if something was missing from her. Or more like someone.

She didn’t remember her mother, she was so young at the time, but she cherished the stories her father had told her. She fed her imagination on these stories. Making up fake memories where her mother was still there. In her heart it was all real. Reality was bitter compared to the sweet comfort of her imagination.

By the time she was 12, she’d heard the famous story enough to know it by heart, each word of the letter engraved into her head. She begged her father again and again. She wanted more stories, even the smallest anecdotes, she wanted to hear them all. Anything to improve the sketch, constantly redrawn, of the woman she didn’t remember. The woman she couldn’t really call a mother.

She knew the story by heart and yet it felt incomplete. She’d heard enough fairytales and read enough books to know when a story was complete. This one wasn’t.

And she was right.

A week after the twins’s 13th birthday, their dad gathered them around the kitchen table. He wanted to talk. It was very important. Y/n had to admit, this was quite strange, as her father was never the one to bring up important issues. In front of him was placed an envelope, yellowed with the years.

The girl knew this envelope all too well. Every scratch, every little bump, she could almost feel them on the tip of her fingers. It was her mother’s letter. This time, when he pulled out the folded pages, a third paper came out. The missing part.

Big John didn’t say anything, only slid the pearl white sheet to the twins. And though no words came out of his mouth, a million could be seen in his gaze. He wore an unfamiliar expression on his face. It was mix of sadness, fear and regrets. It was the expression of a man who only wanted to protect his children from being hurt.

The missing paper read as so:

“This is my dream, John.

And I know you might think there’s a way for us to fix this, but there isn’t. This time you can’t fix it.

When I got pregnant with the kids, I was so scared. And when I told you, I saw this glimmer in your eyes. This flame suddenly being lit inside of you. You were so excited to have your first child and it was twins! You seemed so happy. It was beautiful.

Then I thought that maybe we could do this, maybe I could be a mother. I had you, so everything would be fine. My friends kept talking about this amazing connection that felt with their babies when they were carrying them. But I never felt it with the twins.

And I thought that maybe once I held them in my arms I would finally feel it. That motherly connection. It never came. And I tried, John. I tried so hard. But I just can’t.

I do love them, I love them so much, but not the way you do. Not the way a parent loves their child It can’t do it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Life is cruel that way sometimes.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you were meant for this. I can see it in the way you look at them. You can do this, John. I know.

Be the parent I will never be able to be.”

Y/n’s curious eyes scanned the paper excitedly. Her face showed a variety of emotions in the span of a few minutes. First, excitement and joy, then, confusion and finally, anger. The tip of her ears burned red, her hand shaking beneath the table.

John B. placed the paper on the table, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Though, compared to his sister, he seemed relatively calm.

Y/n couldn’t contain it anymore. She stormed out of the house, her feet shoeless and her shoulders bare. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran.

It didn’t matter. As long as she was going somewhere. As long as she was moving and running, then she wouldn’t have to think. And if she was thinking, then her mind would take her to a bad place. She didn’t want to go there. So she ran.

The Routledges were never reputed to be angry people, much less violent. They were generally very calm, maybe a bit arrogant, but always composed. Of course, when a Routledge was after something, they would do anything in order to obtain it.

But y/n was one of the exception. She was the first Routledge woman in nearly 150 years. For generations, every Routledge man had sons, who had sons, who had sons until her father. He had a son and a daughter.

She wasn’t an angry person or mean in any way. On the contrary, she was kind and gentle. But compared to her brother and her dad, she felt emotions deeply.

And maybe it was her mother’s side and not the Routledge in her. It was so intense, sometimes. Almost blinding, at some moments. It was like the emotions took over her. It didn’t happen very often but it felt like she didn’t control her body anymore.

When she finally came back to her senses, y/n was standing on an empty beach. She hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten until she felt the warm sand under her feet. A cold breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders. She was so far from home. And so alone.

She walked to the ocean, letting her toes dip gently into the water. The water was cold but calming. Her anger slowly disappeared with each breath she took, until finally she could see everything clearly again.

Y/n turned away. She thought of going back home, when a wave of emotions hit her. She fell to the ground. It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Her chest burned, she felt like she had swallowed fire. Her shoulders shook and loud sobs escaped her lips. She dug her hands into the sand, trying to ground herself. It didn’t stop her tears from crashing onto her shirt.

A shadow appeared in front of her and she recognized its shape in a matter of seconds. It could only be one person.

“Are you hear to laugh at me?” She said through tears.

“No, not this time,” said John B. He sat down beside her, his eyes looking into hers. “Oh, y/n.” He wiped the tears off of her face

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s just that, that,” he placed his arm around her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “Part of me always thought that she would come back.”

“That she’d come stay with us and finally be our mom. But she’s never coming back, ever,” her tone was almost accusing. “I lost so much time making up scenarios for her and she doesn’t even love us.”

“You know that’s not true,” reasoned John.

“Yeah, but it feels like it.”

“We don’t need her anyway,” stated the boy. “We’ve got dad, surfing, plenty of fish and well, each other. It’s not that bad is it?”

“No, you’re right.” She looked at him. “I just feel like I’m missing out on something. Like I’m,” she paused, looking for the right word, “incomplete.”

“I get it. If the roles were reversed and dad wasn’t there, I guess I would feel that way too,” confided her brother. “But don’t give her this much power. She doesn’t get to make you feel this way. You’re whole on your own, y/n/n.”

“Thank you, bird.” She slid her arm around his shoulder, letting her head rest on top of it. “You know, you can be an amazing brother sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Hey, bird?” “Yeah?”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You always come here when you wanna be dramatic.”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

And slowly, the imaginary memories fell apart and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need them anymore. She’d be better in the real world.

Taglist

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal @itsagurl @mendesmaybank

If you wanna be added or removed or if I forgot you, tell me and it’ll be modified!

[omg-imagine]

After careful debate of the promp list and getting distracted by your wonderful blog I think I'm gonna go with #71 + Constantine! But really your blog gave me life today🖤

Pairing: John Constantine x Reader

Prompt: “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but being with you isn’t one of them.”

Words: 642

Warnings: Angst, mentions of cancer

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! :) This is my first time writing for Constantine so I apologize if it’s out of character. Hope you enjoy ❤️

“Y/N.”

You know that voice. You’d recognize it anywhere.

And yet, you remained unmoved, gazing down on the swirling glass of martini in your hands. Of all the places you could have gone out to drink, why did you choose this bar?

You pretend not to notice, not to care. Even though you feel a sharp tug at your heart, you refuse to turn around, knowing that looking into his eyes would hurt more than the memories you have of him. Memories that you willed yourself to forget but only haunt you as the days go by.

“Y/N,” the voice says again, much mellow this time. He’s aware of what he’s doing, how weak you are when it comes to him. He could say those three little words, and despite the pain you’ve endured after he pushed you away, you’d quickly take him back.

Pathetic, you scolded yourself. But truth be told, you’re sure there was no other man that could love you the way he does. There was no other man that could make you feel adored, desired, alive.

There was no other man like John Constantine. Search if you must, but you’d only be wasting your time.

Biting your tongue, you ignore John as he takes the now empty seat beside yours. From the corner of your eye, you see him staring, and it burns a hole in your chest. 

Don’t fall for him. Don’t suffer because of him. Don’t look…

John whispers your name once more, and your resolve crumbles. 

The cycle begins again.

“What?” you grit through your teeth, glancing up to finally acknowledge him. 

You notice it immediately, the hurt and exhaustion in his eyes. Though something else glimmers in them. Something foreign, something you could barely recognize.

“I-I…” John stutters before he’s unable to find the right words. Any words.

“No,” you shake your head, gaining enough strength to get up from the barstool. “I can’t do this.”

Tears suddenly cloud your vision as you try to distance yourself from John, but you’re stopped when a hand gently circles your wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his pleading eyes desperate. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did, John. You left me. I was willing to make this— us— work. I don’t care if you have months left to live. I loved— damn it. I still love you. That’s why I’m here, at the very same bar we used to go to. Because deep down, I still want to be with you even if it hurts.”

John is silent, a trait of his that you’re all too accustomed to. You almost forgot his hold on you until you feel him rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand soothingly, and it calms the storm inside you. 

“I left because I thought it was the right thing to do. I was dying, and you don’t deserve to go through all that.”

“Then what changed? Why are you back?”

John inches closer, exhaling. “It’s gone. The cancer’s gone.”

“What?” You sigh out, your heart racing at the news. “Please don’t tell me you made a deal with a demon or some shit.”

He chuckles under his breath. “No, I didn’t. Look, it’s a lot to explain right now, but I promise you, if you take me back, I will never leave again. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but being with you isn’t one of them. I want this, I want us—you.”

Tilting your gaze upwards, you catch the hope dancing in John’s eyes. A hope that mirrors your own. He smiles softly at you, and it makes your stomach flutter with delight. You’ve missed that smile, just as much as you missed him.

No other words were said. You didn’t need to, and neither did John. 

The tender kiss you shared with him was more than enough.

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein��� @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx @cherry-gemz

[scorlettimagines]

Ozone: A Caliban Imagine

Request from Anon: hiya i was just wondering if you could write about ozone and caliban its my fave chase song🥰 please and thank you! love your blog💕

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Ozone

I'm feeling numb off of all of these Xans, yeah

I know it’s dumb that I fucked up your plans I wish I was more of a man

When Sabrina Morningstar kissed him goodbye, Caliban pretended to kiss her back with just as much meaning. When she kissed him goodbye, he pretended that he wasn’t thinking about the girl he could be with now the Queen of Hell would be transported to another world.

That was if Y/N would ever take him back, of course.

He knew she had been at the wedding, watching him saw vows he didn’t really mean, hating him for all the heartbreak he had put her through. He knew that he never could have told her his real plan, the one that involved her and him and a throne. He knew that she would only have tried to stop him, always trying to protect him from the death that came as a result of treason.

He felt numb the day he told Y/N it was over, marking the first step in his plan to glory. It was only as time went on, only as he watched her in court, solemn with hatred in her eyes, that he realised how stupid he had been.

He wished he had the guts to tell her the truth, knowing now that it was far too late for that.

I wish I was more of a man I know you don't understand I neglected you again

Y/N had given Caliban more chances than he had ever deserved, he knew that. He never understood why she loved him, never understood how someone so perfect as her could love someone so broken as him. He was incomplete, and felt even more so without her.  

He knew she would never understand his plan, never understand why he had had to marry Sabrina Morningstar to get what he wanted for both of them. And so, he had thought it was easier to lie to her, to tell her that he didn’t love her anymore, to leave her. Alone and feeling just as incomplete as he did.  

It wasn’t the first time he had sacrificed her for personal gain, but somehow, she had always taken him back. But he had a feeling that this time Y/N wouldn’t be so forgiving. He had a feeling she was tired of being neglected, of loving someone whom she believed didn’t love her in the same way.  

Of course, she was wrong. Caliban loved her more than words could ever say. So why did he find it so hard to choose? Why was it so hard to pick between glory and the girl he loved? Why did he continue to mess up?  

Those were the questions she had left him with after the wedding. She said, "Don't forget you owe me one" Ninety-nine cent dreams, maybe you could show me some

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Y/N took a sip of champagne, a bitterness in her tone that made Caliban wince, “Congratulations to the Queen’s new husband.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N.”

“Like what? I’m merely congratulating you. Well done on finally finding someone you love. Of course, I thought that was me, but as you told me only a few weeks ago, I’m wrong.”

He had wanted to scream at her, to take her by the shoulders and shake her. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t wrong, that he loved her, adored her, had pictured himself kissing her instead of Sabrina Morningstar. But he didn’t.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He was quiet, guilt threaded through every word he spoke. And then she turned on him, vicious, terrifyingly beautiful.

“I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want to ever hear from you again, do you understand? Because every time you open your mouth, I’m the one who ends up getting hurt.” A sob as her voice began to break. “And I can’t do it anymore. So when it all ends up going sour with our lovely Queen, don’t you dare come running back to me. You owe me that, at least.”

She told me she loved me, but I do not deserve your love I put me above you and honestly I think I fucked it up I don't know why

From that day on, Caliban thought of all the things he could have said, all the things that could have made Y/N change her mind. He could have told her the truth, that he was doing all of this for her, for them, for a better life. He could have kissed away her tears before kissing her lips.

But instead he had accepted that he didn’t deserve her love, that he wasn’t good enough for her, that she no longer deserved the hurt that he constantly put her through. He had let her walk away from him, and it was the worst moment of his life.

His marriage to Sabrina Morningstar had never helped to distract him. Y/N was constantly in his thoughts, his mind swimming with ways that he could get her back. He knew his efforts would be pointless, knew that she was certain on leaving him this time.

But a glimmer of hope was a powerful thing, and when he saw that Sabrina Spellman had been able to forgive Nicholas Scratch, he thought maybe Y/N would forgive him. So when Sabrina Morningstar, his wife, kissed him goodbye, he could only think of his next steps.

He could only think of Y/N, the girl he didn’t deserve.

I'm 'bout to ruin the Ozone I know you're sitting alone I made mistakes with these white lines

“She’s really gone then?” Y/N looked over at Caliban, at him standing in her room, in what had been their room. He had found her there, knowing her too well to imagine she would be anywhere else. She was never one for company, always preferring to be alone when he wasn’t around. It was almost a comfort to see that things hadn’t changed.

When she had opened the door to him, she had been prepared to slam it on his face. But there was something about the look in his eyes, the pleading, that had made her stop. And now, here they were, about to talk for the first time since his wedding night, and Caliban felt sick.

“Yes. She’s gone.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. Get to the point. Why are you here?”

Caliban hated the way she looked at him with such contempt. He knew he deserved it, knew that he had made mistakes, the biggest in his life when he had put his own goals above loving her. He knew that it was very likely she wouldn’t forgive him, but he knew that it was worth a try. Y/N was the love of his life, and he wasn’t prepared to let her go without a fight.

And I'm clouded by all of this smoke I don't think I'll ever get sober, no I don't think I'll ever get sober

When he had finished telling Y/N everything, Caliban let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the clouds had parted, like he was finally seeing everything clearly. He knew that to love Y/N was to trust her, and telling her the truth, letting the weight fall from his shoulders, was the best thing he had ever done.

At least, that was what he felt until she spoke.

“Why are you telling me this?” She was the quiet one this time, a suspicion in her voice that pierced his soul.

“Because I love you.”

“And you’ve only just figured that out? You’ve only just realised that you love me after breaking my heart? Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through, Caliban?”

And there was that look again, that hatred that made him want to fix everything.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, how many times have I heard that?” Y/N put her head in her hands, and Caliban resisted the urge to reach out and comfort her. “You don’t change, do you? But I’m the one who always promises herself that you will. I’m the always the one who gets let down, but I keep coming back because I love you.”

“Y/N. You’re right. I don’t change, but I’m trying. I really am. If this has taught me anything, it’s that I never want to mess up with you ever again. I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him.

“Then give me time.”

Time. He could give her that.

All because he loved her.

CHASE ATLANTIC MASTERLIST

CALIBAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

[dakotafoster]

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ραιяιиg : katsuki bakugou x g/n reader

ɢɛռʀɛ: fluff ♡ crack humor

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 2.1k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: a bit steamy

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : When your boyfriend comes home intoxicated, he shows you a side of him that is reserved for only you. ✰

This will be my first one-shot on this blog, so please any constructive criticism will be really helpful! Hope you all enjoy. ッ

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It was a chilly starry night. Japan from the balcony window had never looked so serene until now. The bright stars that dotted the dark velvet sky, giving the gloomy canvas a little bit of life--of light. It was somber yet luminous, they drew the lights of heaven and gave the citizens of below a meager taste of something so divine and sublime, a measly fragment of the beauty we long to see in ourselves and the world around it. It was magnificent.

A heavy knock interrupted your attention on the black before you, muffled whispers and giggles could be heard from the opposite side of the chestnut door. As you lifted yourself from the glass railing you took a brief gander at the clock sitting on the desk beside your TV. It read 2:43 a.m.

Wrapping a small nearby cardigan around your frame and rubbed your eyes of sleep before making a beeline toward the door, the muffled voices becoming clearer as your got closer.

“Dammit Bakugou, quit messing around and give me your keys!”

“Gotta find it in my ass first shitty hair!”

Swinging the door open your (e/c) optics landed upon a frustrated Kirishima who was wrestling a very drunk Bakugou for a silvery white ring of keys right outside your flat doorstep. Bakugou seemed to be having an absolute blast, giggling like a little school girl as he evaded Kirishima’s attempts to swipe the item from his grip, and Kiri was having none of it. They both seemed rather oblivious to your presence and persisted to look like complete idiots in the halls of the complex.

“Both of you stop it before you wake up the neighbors!”

Your harsh tone is what finally received their attention, gazing timidly at you with wide eyes frozen. In one last attempt to get a rise out of Kirishima, Bakugou swiped his palm brutally on the back of his friends head, his head flung forward rough smack and a grunt, mumbling something about Katsuki being a dick. You heaved out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend, his face sheen with a thick layer of sweat and a radiant red flush adorned his cheeks and across his nose. His eyes still the blazing crimson you had come to adore so much puffy and irritated.

“Sorry ‘bout this (y/n)... I didn’t mean to wake ya but Bakugou has had too much to be alone right now, and I still have to take care of Kaminari so...”

Kirishima timidly began to caress the back of his spiky locks, giving you a sheepish grin and gave a quick glance at the blonde next to him who was struggling to keep himself from tumbling forward. Too exhausted to even argue, you simply waved Kirishima off and moved to grab hold of your intoxicated boyfriend. The strong aroma of what was seemingly Fireball mixed with rum made your nostrils flare in distaste, far from his usual caramel scent.

“It’s fine Kiri. Just get home safe ‘kay?”

“Yeah, have a goodnight (y/n)”

You slammed the door behind with a swing of your foot, you then proceeded to lead Katsuki into your bedroom with an arm wrapped around his bulky torso to keep him straight. He stumbled over his feet a couple times along the way there, leaning on you for support so he didn’t face plant or dive to the floorboards in any way. He was mumbling incoherently to himself, slumping against your shoulder which led to his breath brushing up against the side of your face and into your ear, the hot sensation produced a shiver down your spine. Katsuki interpreted this rather well, because he immediately attached himself to your neck and pressed soft, open-mouthed kissed to your soft spot. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy even if he couldn’t even fucking walk straight.

“I need you babygirl.”

“Not tonight ‘Suki, maybe tomorrow.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his searing hot lips against your pulse, his wet tongue slipping out everyone and then teasingly. You hummed softly and weakly cupped his scalding cheek to pull him from your nape, cursing whatever deity that made him so goddamn tempting.

“C’mon lets get you ready for bed hun.”

“Mmm... Babe...”

He groaned lowly as you sat him down at the foot of your bed, his large frame slouching over his knees. Crouching down you gripped his ankle and raised his seemingly massive leg into your lap, silently untying his shoes whilst feeling his vivid gaze burning holes into your skull. Placing his shoes to the side you began to fumble with his belt to get rid of his ebony jeans. Amid doing so, Katsuki had graced with a lazy smirk and casually reached his generous hands to your head, running his fingers through your (h/c) strands.

“Hell yeah, this is what I like to see baby.”

Fuck. The way the words fell from those lips made you utterly weak. Your face felt like it was on fire with how carnal his gaze was, you were sure you looked like a fish out of water with the shock and overwhelming arousment you were feeling. Nevertheless, it was short lived when Bakugou dropped onto the bed and burst into a fit of laughter and giggles just by your reaction. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle with a twitch of your brow, you gave a quick smack to his thigh and tiredly tugged at his jeans once he had calmed down. His endless taunting was never so apparent until now and frankly, it was debilitating and instigating all at once.

“Stay here. Please don’t try and get up, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Yeah.. Sure.”

He released a small giggle and his head rolled to his left shoulder, laying tired on his back upon your white duvet. You rose from your spot on the floor and exited the bedroom to get him a glass of water and some ibuprofen to somewhat relieve his hang over. You didnt think you’d return to find a very naked and very erect Katsuki laying splayed out across the bed, the remainder of his clothes discarded on the side of the bed and his arms crossed behind the back of his head, his sculpted six-pack presented to you in such a way it made you drool like a fucking dog.. And the same arrogant smirk he’d been adorning for entirety of his stay among your apartment, the same enticing glimmer in his optics.

“Oh my god Katsu! What the fuck?!”

You shrieked, averting your eyes to your feet and stumbled around to find his boxers or at least something to conceal his manhood. Bakugou cackled our in delight before he was met with his boxers on his face, picking up on a faint grumble and your feet stomping toward the nightstand next to him.

“Put on your damn boxers Bakugou! I’m too fuckin tired for this shit..” You hissed at your dopey, idiotic boyfriend as he just began to fumble with the garment and mishandle them up each leg, snickering throughout the whole process. “Okay okay... No need to yell. So much for trying to serve it to you like a Hot ‘n Ready Hotpocket.”

You’ve never laughed so hard in your damn laugh at that. He grinned at your shaking form, watching intently as you struggled to breath through each laugh and chuckle, snorts coming out every few seconds. God, you hated him and loved him simultaneously for doing this to you. You wanted to give in to his desire because Jesus the sex was with him was down right unbelievable. Man, did this hunk of a man know how to pleasure a woman and fuck was he exceptional at doing so. Although, at the same time you were tempted to knock his ass into sleep. Either way you couldn’t officially decide. After several moments you composed yourself, taking deep breaths as you made your way into your restroom. You managed to stifle a few chortles in the process of grabbing a rag and moistened it with lukewarm water from your sink, then returned thankful you hadn’t walked in on another naked Bakugou. Making your way around the king sized mattress you were pleased to find he had already taken the ibuprofen and the water both absent.

“Let me clean your face baby. It’s all sweaty and sticky.”

You mumbled out drowsily, sitting down beside Katsuki and tilting his chin up to face you and nimbly wipe his face clean. You looked up at him to make sure we wasn’t falling asleep and you froze, your heart erupted at the sight you were provided with. Katsuki’s face was free of his usual scowl, instead his eyebrows were relaxed, tilted upward and his lips in a small, soft smile. Those dazzling vermilion eyes staring into you, glistening with so much adoration and passion for you. You choked, mesmerized with how calm and serene he looked. The next words to tumble from his lips could’ve sent you melting onto the floor like wax.

“I am really really... Really in love with you (y/n).”

You believed every single word. You never even questioned it for a second in that moment. Really because you had no reason to discredit his love for you, he was a genuine man with a sharp and palpable tongue 24/7. You both were aware of that, and you didn’t complain. It was nice to have him so honest with you, and yes sometimes he wasn’t always nice with the way he expressed such honesty you had grown accustomed to it. Which is why you had been so shocked to see the brash and usually loud brute suddenly become so hushed and tender.

“I mean it princess. I love you so fuckin’ much. I know I don’t really show you how much I do like normal shitty couples, and i’m really fucking sorry for that but I love you with everything I got babe.. I know how much I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.. But.. I promise I’ll never stop lovin’ you, and I’ll show you every damn day just to fucking prove it. M’kay? Your fucking stuck with me until you’re too damn old to even try and fight me on it. I’m so happy I met you and I’m terrified at the same, ‘cause fuck babe I never knew I wanted love until now, until you. I never saw the fuckin’ point. So please jus.. Fuckin’ stay and be in love with me too.”

He refused to give you a chance to reply before he gingerly took your face into his hands and brought his lips to yours. The world fell away as you felt his soft, chapped lips against your own. The kiss with just as delicate as his words and touch, moving smoothly and overwhelming emotion. You immediately raised your hands to weave together behind his neck, pulling him in gently to deepen the kiss. In response to this, Katsuki rolled his tongue across your bottom lip in a silent request for an entrance. You whimpered, opening your mouth as his tongue began to explore your wet cavern, faintly tasting the alcoholic beverages from just hours before. His thumbs swiping tenderly across your cheekbones and your fingertips tangled themselves around his strong neck.

It wasn’t rushed or rough in any way, not like the many nights were he would intend on fucking you senseless, this is when he would truly let himself be vulnerable. Moments like these when he was so damn soft and loving toward you, and only you.

The kiss lasted for what felt like only a minute when in reality lasted 15 minutes. He left you seeking for more. Heaving for breath at the mere intensity of the make-out, resting his forehead against yours, noses brushing against each other gently. You both stayed like that for a moment, just basking in each other’s loving glow with stupid grins across your lips. You took your time taking in this hidden side of your boyfriend, loving each second of it while you still could before he would return to his sullen self. You reveled in every moment you lost yourself in his soft caress, were it was nobody but the two of you acting almost as one. In which you could feel close to him away from intercourse and instead with sensual kisses and grazes. Nonetheless, he was certainly the half that made you whole.

“I’m in love with you too Katsu’.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Thank you so much for reading! Request are open, and feel free to leave feedback or ask any questions! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟏/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚.𝐦.)

[connordavidscamera]

Wonder | Connor Brashier

A/n: obviously this is based off Wonder because it’s so good and I couldn’t not write something for it. 

Summary: You and Connor are at the launch party for Wonder and Connor has a surprise for you (established relationship)

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.8k

***

“I didn’t know they had launch parties for songs. I thought it was just for albums,” I say as I slide into my shoes.

“Well, it’s not an actual launch party, per se. It’s really just Shawn getting the team together for the release. It’s casual.”

“I know, I actually get to wear pants to this party,” I joke. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Yes you do.” But then his eyes are raking me up and down and he bites his lip. “And damn, do you look good in them.”

“Hey, eyes up here, mister.” I say, reaching forward to lift his chin so his pretty eyes are on my face.

He smirks, “Okay, but what’s it gonna take for you to let me get you out of these for a quickie before we leave?”

I shake my head, “Nope. You’ve already had me three times today. You can wait until we get back.”

He pouts, “No I can’t. I’m needy and you’re hot.”

I laugh, “Flattery will get you everywhere, but not right now. We’re already running late.”

“It’s Shawn, he won’t care.”

“No, but you know your girlfriend is one for punctuality.”

He rolls his eyes, “Annoyingly so, yes.”

I gasp and hit his arm playfully, “You used to think it was cute!”

“Yeah, before it meant I couldn’t have my way with you before a party.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, “If you’re a good boy maybe I’ll let you have me while we’re at the party. How’s that sound?”

He perks up at the idea, eyes glimmering with a child like sparkle. “Really?”

How could I say no when he looks at me like that? “Yes, baby. But we have to go now before traffic hits.”

He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “After you, my love.”

“You’re gonna stare at my ass while I walk out, aren’t you?” I pull away from him with an amused smile.

He just shrugs, “I might.”

I pinch his cheek, “Well then I’ll put a little more pep in my step to give you a show.”

He groans, throwing his head back, “You’ll be the death of me, you know that, right?”

I hum and turn to walk out of our bedroom, his eyes following me as I go. 

---

“Another drink, my love?” Connor asks when he sees my empty cup in my hands.

“You trying to get me drunk, Brashier?” I tease, looking up at him. 

“Oh yes. That’s exactly it.”

I nod, “Nothing too strong, please?”

“You got it. Kiss?” he puckers his lips and I lean up to meet his lips but scrunch up my face. “You taste like whiskey.”

He chuckles. “Sorry, love. I’ll be right back.”

I nod and turn back to Shawn and Brian who are attempting to play beer pong against Sylvie and Justin. Brian isn’t very good, but he’s drank a lot more than Shawn has, so his aim is a little off. 

“Bri, you’re supposed to make it in the cup,” Sylvie taunts. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, and sticks his tongue out a little as he squints at the cups on the opposite side of the table. And when it makes it in he’s more excited than I’ve ever seen him before. “Fuck yes! Yes! You’re supposed to make it in the cup,” he mocks. 

“Why is he screaming?” Connor asks when he returns with my drink.

“He made it in.”

“About time,” he checks the time on his watch. “Speaking of time. Shawn, you have to get on the premier. You have ten minutes.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Thanks, Brash.” he pats Brian’s back and goes, “You’re on your own, Craigen. Good luck.”

“Where’s Anna?” he asks, looking around the room. “Y/n, where’s Anna. She’s good at this game.”

 “I think she went to get a drink.”

“Anna!” he yells. “Come be my partner for beer pong!” When she doesn’t answer immediately he groans. “Anna!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Craigen. I heard you the first time.”

“Be my partner,” he pouts. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

I look back at my boy who is already looking at me. “Shouldn’t you be with Shawn? Sober him up a bit?”

He shakes his head. “No, he’s okay. Wanna be with my girl.”

I nod and turn in his arms to face him fully. “You know, you still haven’t told me much about this song.”

“I know. It’s a surprise.”

“But why?”

“You’ll see when it premieres.”

I pout. “But I wanna know now.”

“Nope, you’ll have to wait and see.”

I groan. “Why won’t you tell me? What? Are you in the video? Is my baby in front of the camera instead of behind it this time?”

He chuckles, “No. I’m not in the video.”

I huff. “Tell me!!!”

He shakes his head with a bright smile. “No, my love. You’ll see it,” he checks his watch again “Thirty-five minutes.”

“Tease,” I grumble.

“Says the one who told me we could have a quickie in the bathroom and has yet to follow through.”

“Well I said that would happen if you were a good boy. But you’re not telling me things so,” I shrug. “Guess no quickie.”

He growls in my ear and I’m almost reconsidering my answer. Almost.  

“Fine,” he mutters, “I’m gonna set up the TV for the premiere. You okay here?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna watch Brian lose another round.”

Brian gasps and turns to face me. “You too?!” His face morphs into what almost looks like true betrayal, but I still can’t fight the laugh that escapes.

“Guys, three minute warning! Get your drunk asses out here and settle in,” Sylvie calls from the living room. 

“Anna sit with me,” Brian begs as Anna and I make our way to the room. 

“I was gonna sit with y/n, but-”

“She’s gonna sit with Connor. Please?” He asks again, making puppy dog eyes at her. I roll my eyes and push her into him. 

“Oh just sit with him. He’ll never shut up if you don’t.”

“Ah,” Connor says when he spots me. “There’s my love.” He holds a hand out for me. “I saved you a seat.” He smirks, patting his lap. 

I shake my head and fall into him, not in the mood to tease him now. “My favorite seat,” I mumble, resting my head on his shoulder.

As everyone settles in, I play with Connor’s fingers, spin his ring a few times before taking it off of him and sliding it on my thumb. I half expect him to take it back when he lifts my hand. But he brings my thumb to his lips and kisses it over the ring before lacing our fingers and bringing them back down to my lap. “I love you,” he whispers into my hair.

“I love you,” I whisper back.

“Okay,” Shawn says, coming into the room. “Are you guys ready?” he asks excitedly, plopping himself down on the floor, his back against the armrest of the chair Connor and I are sitting in.

Connor squeezed my thigh. “Are you ready for the surprise?” He asks me.

I nod excitedly. “I’m very excited.”

“It’s starting,” Sylvie says for the few stragglers that were making their way into the room. 

I’m already hooked by the countdown. It’s very Alice and Wonderland-esque, with the swirling clock. By the time the opening harmonies come in I’m leaning forward to squeeze Shawn’s shoulder. “You sound good, Rockstar,” I whisper. 

By the middle of the song, I’m nodding and humming along to the song. But when Shawn gets to the last chorus I look back at Connor. “Wait, bubba, what’s the surprise?”

“It’s coming. Wait until the end.”

I furrow my brows and turn my attention back to the screen. Shawn’s just finished the chorus and is on his knees on the cliff as the camera gets closer to him. And the screen cuts to black.

Directed by Matty Peacock

And then another two seconds later:

Written by

Shawn Mendes

Matty Peacock

Connor Brashier

I gasp and look at my boy who is already smiling at me. “You wrote this!”

He chuckles, “Well only some of it.”

“That doesn’t matter. You wrote it!”

“So, good surprise?” 

I scoff and wrap my arms around him. “The best surprise. I am so fucking proud of you.”

He kisses the underside of my jaw and rubs my back, “Thank you, my love. Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Well,” Shawn asks, standing up. “What did you guys think?”

I pull away from Connor and look up at Shawn. “It was amazing! Probably your best song yet. You literally just keep getting better.”

He glares at me, “Your opinion doesn’t count. You’re biased because your boyfriend helped write it.”

I shrug, “That’s true, yes. But you’ve seen my boyfriend? I clearly have taste, so I would know. And this is your best song to date.”

Connor laughs into my shoulder and pinches my side, “y/n, come on.”

“Why are you getting embarrassed? This is phenomenal and I am so proud of you. Both of you,” I say.

---

Nearly two hours later, I won’t let Connor stop playing the song. But so we’re not annoying the rest of the group, he plays it for me on his phone - the music video though, because I want to see his name at the end. Doesn’t matter how many times I see it, it still fills me with so much pride and joy for the beautiful man in my arms right now. He and I are swaying drunkenly to the song on the balcony outside. It’s just us two and it’s perfect, it’s euphoric. 

“Been dreaming that you feel it, too. I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you,” he mumbles into my hair as he spins us slowly and I look up at him with a bright smile.

“What?” He asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Why are you so smiley?”

I hum and push up on my toes just the slightest bit to press my lips to his in a soft kiss. “You don’t have to wonder,” I say when I pull away.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to wonder what it’s like. To be loved by me?”

I watch as his face morphs into something that I can’t quite place. 

“What?” 

“I adore you. Like I truly, desperately adore you.” He places his hands on either side of my face and kisses me, this time with a little more passion than the one I just gave him. “I’m so lucky,” he hums, using his thumb to pull my bottom lip a little, just for it to pop back in place. 

I shake my head, “I’m lucky. Luckiest girl in the entire world.”

“If you’re the luckiest woman, let me be the luckiest man in the world,” He whispers, tracing his thumb down the column of my neck.  

I nod, “Okay. We can both be lucky to know what it’s like to be loved by one another.”

“Yeah, we never have to wonder.”

***

I hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Permanent tag: @soyalimoncada-blog @tinycertain @magcon7280 @homeofpoetry @fallinallincurls @goldenflickerx @sinceweremutual @myyohmyuohmyy @harry-hollands @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @baroness-alison @lostinmendess @linanilssonfurberg @luvluvxx @mariamuses @shawnieeboyy @divinginfearlessly @mendesficsxbombay @shawnsthighs @zaahidahhh @adelaidestreets @shawnandconnor @shawnsblue @turtoix  @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s

Connor tag: @gangofhoes @verlaneswiftie13

[mysticnfantastic]

This is a commission I did for @lynettethemadscientist! It’s a Reader x Zen x Jumin oneshot. (~6,100 words)

If you’re interested in supporting me, here’s my Ko-fi:  Ko-fi.com/nadzieja_ewelina  (In return for a ko-fi you get a 500 word drabble or scenario of your choice, a shout out on a blog and personalised thank you from me)

If you’re interested in commissioning me, here’s my charges, rules and business email:

 https://mysticnfantastic.tumblr.com/post/617234698987601920/writing-commissions nadziejaewelinabusiness@gmail.com

Now without further ado; 

Widow! MC/Reader (female) x (Low-key soft-core Yandere) Jumin x Zen

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

Jumin’s POV; Phone in hand, Jumin sighed softly to himself as he texted (Y/N), asking her about her day and whether she’d eaten. His chest clenched as he spoke with her, feeling an unusual...fondness, for her. There was something about her that caused his palms to sweat, face to turn a subtle rose shade, and heartbeat to increase. Jaehee had informed him these were symptoms of ‘romantic affection’. How strange. Indeed, Jumin Han did enjoy speaking to (Y/N). She was a wonderful woman who had intelligence and kindness in her heart,  yet spoke her mind with a fierceness Jumin had never seen in anyone else. Most women would fall at his feet and attempt to gain his favour and it was no surprise this was because of his grand wealth. But (Y/N) was different -  unlike anyone he’d ever met - he supposed he could compare her to Rika in certain ways, but even Rika paled in comparison to the sheer amazement Jumin internally felt whenever he thought of (Y/N).

Despite his admiration for the woman, there seemed to be a distance between them, imposed by her.  She was as cheerful as she was playful when the time was right, but the moment Jumin would attempt to instigate anything romantic she seemed to shy away, hurriedly changing the subject and for the life of him he could not understand why. Was she not interested in him? At the mere thought of this, his heart sunk and he placed the phone down on the desk in front of him, swirling around on his chair, glancing out at the late-night city skyline from his office. In times like these, he couldn’t help but think back to Rika. Was he destined to fall for women who would never be his?

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

Zen’s Pov A notification sounded throughout the room as Zen reached out to check it, towel around his waist and steam still floating up from his wet skin. He smiled to himself when he noticed that (Y/N) was messaging him. He instantly replied and placed his phone down just quickly enough to change into his nightclothes, his phone once again within his grasp as soon as he was finished and would continue to be held by him until (Y/N) needed to sleep. Usually, he would value his sleep above anyone else’s but if it was for her, he didn’t mind staying up later than he ought to. For (Y/N), even beauty sleep could wait.

(Y/N). Her name sent shivers down his very spine and he felt himself blush at the mere sound of just her name. Never before had he felt like this about anyone, it seemed unreal - as if they were the leading love interests in a movie, destined to fall in love under mysterious and dramatic circumstances. Perhaps he was just too much of a hopeless romantic, but a part of him dreamt of a future where, just maybe, (Y/N) could be with him. Maybe his fantasies would remain simple wishful thinking, but hope blossomed within his chest.

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

Jumin’s POV Golden light shined down upon the party guests from the ceiling above, encasing everything in its glittery gleam, including (Y/N). Jumin stared at her like a man who had never before witnessed the radiant allure of the sun; she took his breath - his very life force - away with a single smile. His heart pounded in his chest and lightheadedness crept into his head as he attempted to clear his throat and conceal the gentle blush that clung onto his cheeks. God above, why did he feel so...nervous, around her? She was...wonderful. She was absolutely perfect - she was the woman with the most awe-inspiring personality, and now it turned out she was also the most stunning woman he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Guilt spilled into his thoughts like dripping ink at the sudden remembrance of the emotions he held for Rika that had been kept tightly locked inside of him in secret from the world because Rika hadn’t been his to love. And now she was dead, he reminded himself, trying to shake the irrational feeling of betrayal. He could not betray someone who was dead, and one who was never his, to begin with.

It seemed, at times, that (Y/N) was the only cure for his troubles. The moment he snapped out of his mental strife and turned his gaze back to her, the concept of Rika faded into obscurity. (Y/N) saved him from reliving the past that he wished to bury behind in the dust. Dark eyebrows furrowed, however, when he noticed a certain snow-haired pest speaking to her. Zen. Taking a deep breath, he glared at the male from a distance, wineglass full of crimson held in his hand as he observed them. What was Zen planning, he wondered? It was no secret to anyone that Zen held affections for his (Y/N) - Jumin froze, staring down into his vermillion reflection in the wine, mentally correcting himself that, no, (Y/N) was not his - as much as he desired her to be. Dark temptation clawed away at him regardless, whispering things he’d never say aloud. No, no...you were your own person, and you would choose who you would want to be with, but Jumin could not help hoping that you shared his romantic sentiments. He already felt the bitter sting of unrequited love once when he’d been forced to watch his best friend almost marry the woman he loved, and the idea of going through that humiliating pain once again made his throat tighten with fear.

Oh, Love, what a fool it made of him.

Zen’s Pov “(Y/N)...” His enthralled voice gained the woman’s attention as she turned around to face him, smiling, but the snow-haired man noticed melancholy hidden away inside her eyes at all times. “Zen.” She greeted politely, nodding her head at him as an acknowledgement of his presence, her hands held together at her front; she was clearly uncomfortable in such a large crowd of people, and did not enjoy the stares of men on her dolled-up figure. He couldn’t blame anyone from being enraptured by her beauty; she reminded him much of the glimmering moon - to be awed, adored and admired. “Y-You, uh,” He cleared his throat, uncharacteristically awkwardly for him, “You look gorgeous tonight.” His compliment caused her to smile weakly, “Thank you, Zen. You look quite handsome tonight, as well.” Hiding his smile was impossible when she complimented him, a cherry-blossom pink coated his cheeks. He could tell from her restless body language she seemed to abhor the staring strangers, and he had a brilliant idea. “Would you like to go to the garden with me for a walk?” For a flicker of a moment, he saw excitement shining in her (e/c) eyes, but this was quickly replaced with fright. “I-I…” She stuttered, sighing softly and shaking her head, “I’m sorry, Zen.” Her tone was colder, now. She was distancing herself from him yet again. “I...have to go use the ladies’ room.” With newly-found speed she left the ballroom into the corridors, not turning back to look at him once.

Dejected, Zen sighed and walked over to where the wines, champagnes and snacks were stationed, deciding a drink would not be bad in this situation. He wondered if he did something wrong; did he offend (Y/N) in some unknown way? Or was he simply too forward with his advances? Did she have no feelings for him at all?

“Looks like your narcissism has frightened (Y/N) away.” Zen internally groaned  as he poured himself a glass of champagne, glaring over his shoulder at the dark-eyed man speaking to him, “At least I try to talk to her and socialize instead of staring like a stalker, Trustfund Kid.” A soft growl sounded from Jumin’s throat as he clenched the wineglass in his hand. “Besides,” Zen added, taking  a large sip of his champagne, “It isn’t as though she’s been any closer to you than she’s been with anyone else.”

“Hey guys!” Seven’s cheery tone distracted them both from their passive-aggressive semi-argument, waving over to them as he walked over, hands loosely inside his pant pockets. “Why is it that there’s never any honey Buddha chips at these events? The tragedy!” He dramatically lamented, causing Zen to snicker and Jumin to sigh and roll his eyes, drinking his wine silently. Having been a spy, the red-haired hacker was able to pick up on the tension between the two with ease, wondering what happened; this didn’t feel like the typical petty arguments and banter that the two would have, it was more...personal. “What has your eyebrows in a furrow?” He questioned them both, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table in the middle of them, a goofy smile on his face. He was trying to cheer them both up the only way he knew how. He wanted his friends to just...be happy. Be happy like he feared he would never be. “Tell Uncle Seven what’s wrong-” “-Only if you promise to never refer to yourself as ‘Uncle Seven’ ever again.” Jumin quickly cut in, downing the last of his wine and turning to pour himself another glass.  Zen laughed softly, but then reminded himself of the situation at hand, and swirled the champagne in its glass, lost in thought. “It’s about (Y/N), isn’t it?” That caught both Jumin and Zen off-guard, as they turned to Seven in bewilderment. “How’d you know?” Zen choked out, almost dropping his glass from the embarrassment. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy when it came to (Y/N). Seven laughed and shook his head, “You both act as though your feelings for her aren’t the most obvious things in the world.”

“Unfortunately,” Seven’s tone contrasted from playful to severe, “I don’t think she’ll be getting involved with either of you.” “Oh?” Jumin’s eyes squinted as he listened to Seven, urging him silently to continue, taking another sip of wine, “Why’s that?” “Oh, she’s a widow-” Seven spoke before thinking, immediately covering his mouth with his hand, wide-eyed and nervous before slouching. “I...should not have told you that.” He decided, regrettably. Turning around, Seven made sure (Y/N) was nowhere in sight before continuing, but the news seemed to shock Jumin who released his hold on the wine glass, causing the crimson to spill and glass to shatter. “Widowed?” Both Zen and Jumin gasped at once.

Zen threw his head back and downed the champagne before taking a deep breath. That was...certainly not what he’d been expecting. He turned to look at Jumin, who seemed more shocked by the news than he did. The businessman cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving the room. For once, Zen couldn’t blame him; he felt faint himself. (Y/N) had been married before; and not only that, she’d been widowed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that brought with it. To love someone and have them taken away from you by the cruelty of Fate...

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

Jumin’s POV Fingers tapping on his glass desk, Jumin tried to think about work-related matters but found himself unable to focus on anything other than (Y/N) and her status as a widow. If there was one reason as to why she seemed so hesitant to be remotely romantic with anyone, Jumin hadn’t expected this to be it and, frankly, he was having a painfully difficult time adjusting to the information Seven had blurted out at the party.

He picked up the wine glass beside him - he decided since he couldn’t focus on work anyway, he might as well try to relax his nerves with his favourite drink - taking a generous sip of the blood-like substance in order to cope with the torment of his mind. (Y/N) had been married, once. What if her husband were still alive?  He likely would have never even met her; and if he had, he knew better than to assume he would’ve had a chance at seducing (Y/N) into leaving him. Yet it made him wonder what type of man he was. The first thought was that he was a good husband, but a twisted aspect of his personality made him hope for the worst - that (Y/N)’s late husband was cruel, abusive, arrogant...and soon he found himself spiralling into a near-obsession with the concept of her dead husband.

Did she still love him? Had she never loved him? Was she a happy bride or neglected, abused? Did he please her sexually, or was their marriage a stale one?

A thousand questions required two thousand answers in order to satisfy Jumin Han and sate his curiosity. Placing the glass down he took his phone and decided to fulfil some favours owed to him by people who had...connections. “Good evening to you, Mr Song*.” He spoke up immediately after hearing the man answer from the other side, “It’s Jumin Han. I assume you know why I’m calling?” Jumin’s voice was cunning, decisive and darker than it perhaps ought to have been. “Mhm. Exactly,” The corners of Jumin’s lips turned up into a smile, spinning around in his chair to face the nighttime city skylines. He spent most of his nights at his office. “I need you to run a thorough investigation on (L/N) (Y/N). Specifically on her relationship with her late husband.” He leaned back against the leather seat and drank in the beauty of a city at night as he spoke, “Brilliant. Goodbye.” He hung up, feeling accomplished. A part of Jumin knew this was wrong to do. He knew that this was (Y/N)’s private life, that she deserved her privacy; but he also couldn’t bring himself to care - not when his sanity felt as though it was hanging on by a thread if he didn’t find out about her previous marriage.

And, more importantly; he needed to find out how to win her heart from a man who was buried six-feet-underground and win against the feelings she felt for him in the past. The investigation was a reasonable step, he was sure she’d understand.                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Zen’s POV Pacing around his apartment, Zen tried to think of what to say to (Y/N) the next time he saw her. Should he even tell her he knew? Or keep it a secret? Logically he knew that the moral thing to do was to tell her but a selfish part of him wished to make her believe he was clueless about the status of her marriage (or lack thereof) so that nothing would change. Still, he thought of himself as a man who respected morals, and he knew what the right thing to do was - he had to meet with her and talk. Until now, he believed she was just shy or scared of falling in love - he supposed the latter was true, in a way, but not as he had expected. There was a thought in the back of his mind that spoke to him; What if (Y/N) is still in love with her husband? It was a dreaded thought, but one he understood was possible. In the end, no matter how deep his feelings for (Y/N) ran, he knew that what she suffered through had been a traumatic experience and he was not going to try and force himself into her heart if her heart was eternally closed and beating for a long-gone man. Who was he to try to pry it open? He wanted to, of course - he wanted to try and find a way into gaining her love - but he couldn’t. Not when his mind told him the better option was to communicate with her and ask her if she could ever see him in a romantic light. If all she would ever see him as is a friend, he’d take it, even if it was going to shatter his heart.

Just...as long as he could be a part of her life, he’d be okay.

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

Meeting with (Y/N) was easier said than done. Here Zen was, preparing for her to come over to his apartment as he laid out some refreshments and tried to soothe his growing nerves. She didn’t know why he wanted to meet with her but he was glad she agreed to come over without much questioning. Were his palms sweating? Oh, God, they were. Taking a deep breath, Zen knew he had to remain calm right now, this was not going to be an easy thing for them to talk about and as much as he may want to make the situation about himself, he had to fight that urge because this wasn’t about him, it was about (Y/N) and the grief of her past. He reminded himself that his feelings didn’t matter in the situation because (Y/N) was her own person and did not have to reciprocate the strong feelings Zen held for her; if she did not want him as he did her, he needed to accept that. It hurt, but he knew he’d have to accept that. The sudden knock on the door caused him to hold his breath as he cleared his throat and opened the door, seeing (Y/N) standing in the hallway and looking as beautiful as ever, with her godlike eyes and perfect (h/c) hair. She never failed to take his breath away. “(Y/N),” he greeted her with an anxious laugh, mentally kicking himself for being awkward, “Come in,” He smiled, trying to mask the inner turmoil he felt and the dread buried deep inside his stomach at the prospect of (Y/N) still loving her dead husband. (Y/N) smiled back and nodded, “Good afternoon, Zen.” Her voice was smooth and polite as her eyelashes fluttered with natural grace. God, he almost blurted out his love for her then and there.

Zen led her inside, gesturing to the sofa in his living room and helping hang her coat in the closet before going to sit beside her, swallowing his fear. Should he just get right to it? Or should he stall, start talking about something else instead and ease into the subject matter? Surely he couldn’t just start with ‘Hey, I know you’re a widow!’

“I-I’ll make us some tea - or coffee, uh…” Zen stood abruptly, running a hand through his long snowy locks and moving his rat-tail over his shoulder to ground himself from stress.   (Y/N) blinked in confusion and narrowed her eyes  - what was this about? When he asked her to come over she assumed it was simply because he wanted to meet up and just...chat, but now he was acting strangely and - oh….oh no. Her throat tightened as though it was swelling and she felt dizzy as her gaze followed Zen until he was out of the room. Was he going to...confess? She knew that Zen seemed to have feelings for her, she’d noticed it a while back but never tried to lead him on nor encourage it, hoping his crush would eventually cease to exist. She tried to remind herself that she was likely reading into this too much; perhaps Zen was nervous due to another reason and wasn’t about to proclaim his undying love for her as she feared he might. Instinctively, her hand touched a pendant around her neck, fiddling with it and stroking it as a subconscious attempt to ground herself in reality. Closing her eyes, she remembered the day she received this necklace - it’d been a gift from her husband. She didn’t want to break anyone’s heart but knew that she couldn’t accept anyone’s love right now. It’s not that she didn’t want to ever be in a relationship again - but more so that she just couldn’t. The pain of losing the love of her life broke her and the idea of loving anyone else felt filthy. She was married, and though her vows had been ‘till death do them part’, it felt like the act of utmost betrayal to even consider moving on.

Years had passed, but her feelings hadn’t changed. She loved her husband, loves her husband and always will, and getting involved with anyone wouldn’t be fair to that person, regardless of how much she may care for them; her husband was always going to have half her heart for himself, and no one could ever change that.

Zen returned, holding two cups of steaming coffee and placed them down on the table, sitting back down, clearing his throat. “(Y/N), there’s...there’s actually a reason I called you over,” he admitted, heart palpitating as (Y/N) was mentally and physically leaning on the edge of her seat, “Yes…?” She asked, panic building in her voice, “What is it…?” Zen inhaled and exhaled deeply, before his eyes locked with hers, “I know - uh….” He gulped, “I know you were married once.” At first, his gaze avoided (Y/N); too afraid to see her initial reaction, but his eyes were unable to look away from her for too long. She seemed absolutely baffled, gaping like a fish out of water. “S-Seven drank too much and-” He cringed at the words coming out, regretting throwing his friend under the bus like that, but at the moment he was growing quite frantic. (Y/N) didn’t speak for the first few moments, her head down as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell any of you about my marriage sooner-” “-You don’t have to be sorry!” Embarrassed by his exclamation, he corrected himself and steadied his voice, “I mean; it’s a personal matter. If anyone should apologise it’s me, I know I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this because it’s personal but I just felt it necessary for you to know that I know and-” He cursed himself for his inability to shut up.

Zen wasn’t like this usually, but this wasn’t a usual situation - still, he wished he could just shut his mouth before he dug himself into a deeper hole. “Hyon.” He felt her soft hands on his, comforting him. She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a sorrowful smile, “I-It’s okay. I...I just…” Everything felt overwhelming for them both. A single tear fell from her eye and flowed down her cheek and onto the floor below. Then another, and another until (Y/N) was a sobbing mess, desperately trying to force herself to stop crying as she frantically wiped away at the myriad of droplets escaping her. Not knowing what else to do, Zen pulled her into his arms and stroked her head in a soothing motion, cooing to the weeping woman. “I just miss him so much!” Hearing this pierced his heart with a spear, but he said nothing and continued to hold her and comfort her through this breakdown.

How long has she been bottling this in, without anyone to hold her?

Zen didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it must’ve been at least an hour before the stormy waves calmed into a still ocean. (Y/N) felt emotionally, physically and mentally drained as she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with her hands and shakily exhaling. “T-Thank you.” she weakly whispered, “I...needed that.” “Of course. I’m...I’m always here for you, okay?” Every word that left his mouth was genuine and honest - even though hearing her speak about her husband made him want to cry himself, he was going to be a good friend to her unconditionally. Especially since she’d been carrying this awful weight around in her soul for so long without anyone knowing. If he could help her to carry that weight by allowing her to rant and mourn, that’s what he was going to do, his feelings be damned.

She spent the rest of that afternoon talking, explaining and describing everything about her past marriage, having several small tearful moments in-between. Zen made sure to be attentive and listened to her to the best of his abilities, being what she needed most; a good friend. At least now he knew that there was no room in her heart for him, and it made him sick to know that he would never have a chance with her, but his own pettiness be damned; (Y/N) was a wonderful woman who deserved happiness and he was going to go to hell and back for her if he could secure it for her.

(Y/N) needed a friend more than she needed a lover, and as much as he desired her romantically, Zen wasn’t about to force himself into her life in a way that would only harm her. He knew he loved her, more than he ever loved anyone before; but she’d already found the love of her life, and though he died, he was irreplaceable. So he was going to keep his feelings a secret for her sake. He could take it.                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jumin’s Pov “(Y/N), do come in,” Jumin called as he sat behind his desk, wolfish eyes observing her beauty as she entered, looking around curiously. “Hey Jumin” she responded, sitting down on the chair opposite him, crossing her legs with an air of elegance. 

She was so perfect. “What is it you wanted to talk about?” “First,” he spoke, handing her a glass of her favourite drink, “I want us to celebrate.” “Celebrate what?” she asked, a puzzled laugh leaving her lips before taking a small sip of her drink, “How’d you know this was my favourite?” Jumin smirked and pulled out a hefty folder, sliding it over to her. “I found out about your previous marriage during the party,” He casually explained, smiling without a trace of empathy for the situation, “So I decided to do some research of my own.” Any reminiscence of a smile faded as she gasped, “W-What?” He hummed in reply, urging her to look through it. “You see, (Y/N).” He clapped his hands and an intern rushed in with an abundant bouquet of (Y/N)’s favourite flowers, “I have romantic feelings for you.” In his eyes, the confession was perfect. He was surely being suave, was he not? He did practice this confession in his mind several times over, after all.

“Dare I say, I’m in love with you. You’ve enchanted me and I must tell you that you’re perfect for me. Elegant and graceful, immensely beautiful, gentle and confident…” He trailed off, cheeks blushing as his tone deepened, “I want to protect you, (Y/N).”

All the while, the (h/c) female was speechless. How could she respond to this? It was insane!

Jumin, however, took her lack of comprehension to be a sign of success and fortune. Clearly she was so amazed that his confession took her very breath away. “I can’t imagine what it’s like - being a widow, without someone to take care of you and keep you safe from the cruelty of the world,” He continued, and (Y/N) internally wished he would just shut up. “Be mine, (Y/N).” Though as he said it, she couldn’t help but feel as if it wasn’t a plea or confession, but a business proposition bordering a demand. Clearly, Jumin was used to getting what he wanted, and it seemed to be no different in this case. “Jumin-” she spoke up quietly, about to explain that she couldn’t accept but he cut her off, “-I know you’re likely overwhelmed,” He leaned forward, elbows supporting him on his desk and smiling at her with a smugness that didn’t suit him, “But you needn’t be worried. I can provide for you, I promise.” He took the file and opened it, glancing through it and showing her his ‘research’ with a sense of pride she couldn’t comprehend; how could he be so...nonchalant about practically stalking her? About investigating her personal, private past?

“Your marriage, I am aware, was a loving one.” (Y/N) sighed, knowing that she was going to have to let Jumin down easy if she could. “You had a good husband…” She was distraught knowing that he went to such great lengths to learn about her past but understood he didn’t know how to control his feelings for her in a healthy way and was willing to let this situation go after explaining it to him. He seemed to at the very least acknowledge the fact she had a fulfilling, happy marriage and loved her husband dearly.

“But I’m going to be better.”

Just as quickly as she was willing to let him down easy and forgive him for doing this, she suddenly felt enraged, clenching her fists under the table as she glared at him with disdain. He said it as if it was a fact; as though he was going to become her next husband for certain. “Excuse me?” Jumin’s smile felt cruel to her, “I know you loved your husband, (Y/N), and I know that you likely believe you’ll never find anyone better but look at me - “ he gestured to himself, and then around at the magnificent office, “I can give you everything you could ever want. Anything, you name it - you’ll get it.” He spoke with the full belief that he could compete with her husband, and in her eyes he was a true madman. “How dare you, Jumin Han?” Pausing, Jumin’s heart dropped in his chest, “What do you mean?” (Y/N)’s gaze made him feel panicked, for it was full of disgust, “Do you honestly believe that I need someone to ‘take care’ of me? To ‘provide’ for me?” She stood up, grabbing the file and holding it tightly to her chest. “This-” she hurriedly stated, “Is personal! Private! This was not something for you to find out for a little extracurricular project because you were bored and have a crush on me!” Oh, She felt as though she was going to be sick right here on the floor of Jumin’s office. “I loved my husband. I love him still, and I always - ALWAYS - will.” Jumin noticed that she was shaking, and stared at her bewildered, “You don’t get to come in here and try and replace him! You can’t do that!” Tears gathered in her eyes as she sniffled, “You don’t understand what it’s like for me. You just...you just decided investigating me would somehow make me fall right into your arms and forget about my husband entirely? God, Jumin! How clueless could you be?” “(Y-Y/N),” he stuttered out, not having expected her to react so negatively to what he had been certain would be a sure mutual love confession.

Wasn’t this what women wanted? Wealth? Security? Safety? Then why was (Y/N) so against this? What was so good about that dead husband of hers, anyway? “He’s dead.” Jumin’s inability to fathom her feelings was insulting to her, here he was trying to assert his beliefs onto her without a trace of empathy towards her or the situation. “He can’t love you anymore, (Y/N). You need to move on. I’m not asking you to love me immediately, just to give me a chance to prove to you I am the better man. Whatever you felt when you were with him, whatever he may have given you - I can do better. I will do better. I can buy you anything, you’ll want for nothing at all-” “Do you honestly believe me to be that vain? To want material things?” (Y/N) scoffed and turned around, ready to leave. “No, Jumin. I don’t love you and after...after this!” she gestured with a free hand to him, herself and the file, “I never could. You won’t ever replace him. No one can, and I don’t appreciate you acting as if you’re the ‘better man’. This is not a competition. And if it was a competition, my husband would win hands down. Goodbye, Mr Han.” With that, she walked out of his office, heels clicking as she stormed out. Jumin’s wide eyes glassed over with tears which he soon blinked away, pouring himself another glass of wine. Maybe Jaehee’s remarks about him becoming a future alcoholic were a little too based in reality. He called Jaehee. “Secretary Kang, please get me some more wine.” Fucking hell, he really messed things up.

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

Zen’s POV He couldn’t take it. Zen’s feelings for (Y/N) were tearing him apart, hiding them in the dark was killing him slowly and he could no longer cope with it. He thought he could, but the more he spent time with her, the more his emotions grew. It felt as though wild roses were growing in his lungs, preventing him from breathing. He had to confess before it killed him.

Knocking on the door, Zen waited outside in the hallway until (Y/N) let him into her home. She was still fuming over the situation with Jumin several days prior, but seeing Zen standing outside her door made her momentarily forget all about her frustrations regarding Jumin. “Hyun…” she smiled, “Come in.”

“(Y/N), I….” Zen sighed, shaking his head as he entered, a bouquet of small roses in hand as he handed them to her, “I need you to listen to me, t-this is important.” Since when was he so embarrassed and shy? The effect she had on him was profound. She took the flowers, admiring them as she felt a small beat of her heart, freezing for a moment after, staring at the crimson petals with a fondness she never realised was there before. Blushing, she put them in a vase, “Hyun, is everything okay? Thank you for the roses, though, they’re gorgeous.” Usually, he would’ve made a flirtatious remark about how they weren’t as gorgeous as her, or how she was a rose herself, but this time it was different. The entire situation was different. “I’m in love with you.” She gasped, dropping the vase as it shattered on the ground - Zen believed this to be the universe’s own foreshadowing as to what was about to happen to his heart. “H-Hear me out, please.” She had never heard him plead like this before. It was...strange - and yet, his humility in this situation felt endearing. (Y/N) felt immensely conflicted, heart beating faster than usual, but her devotion for her first husband remaining.

“I love you. You’re...so amazing and supportive and - just...just so…” He scarcely had trouble with the ladies, but (Y/N) wasn’t just anyone. He was in love with her, and this was as genuine as a confession could be; it was clearly straight from the heart. “I’ve...always admired you, but the more I got to know you the more I fell. And I know you’re always going to love your husband, and I don’t...I don’t expect anything from you.” He thickly swallowed, “You’ve gone through a traumatic situation, and...and I would never even begin to expect to replace the love you had for him. I just...I want you to be happy. I want to be here for you, to support you - to be your friend when you need me.” He looked down at the floor, “I just needed to tell you how I felt for my sake. I’m sorry, (Y/N), I...I really do just want you to be happy and I don’t want anything from you; I’m your friend before anything else and-” “Okay.” He paused, looking up at her with confusion, “Wha-” “-Okay. I...I accept your feelings. I’m glad you were honest with me, and I...I like you, Hyun. I really do.” She blushed, smiling at him as she grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “I want to give us a try. It’s...scary for me. I will always care for and love my first husband - nothing will ever change that. But...I’ve been widowed for years now and I suppose it’s time for me to try to move on with my life.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You have been an amazing presence in my life and knowing that you put your heart on the line and still only wish for my happiness is proof that your feelings are sincere, so...I want to give you a chance. I-It’s not going to be easy,” “I’m not expecting it to be. But...I….If you really want to try with me, I promise to be patient. We’ll...move slowly. I’ll never pressure you into anything, I swear.” (Y/N) smiled an honest smile for the first time in a long time, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. “We...we’ll have to take things slow. It’s going to take time for me to get used to this, but...you’ve been nothing but great to me from the start and I really want to try.”

(Y/N) pulled away and stroked his cheek, then pecked it, before taking a deep breath. “How about you take me out on a date?”

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

Hope you enjoyed reading ❤ Please consider commissioning or supporting me, but don’t worry if you can’t; you can support me through sharing and reblogging my work, commenting, giving feedback and sharing your thoughts on my work to keep me motivated!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read through this. and a special thank you to @lynettethemadscientist for commissioning me with this beauty, it was tremendously fun to write and I enjoyed it very much! 

- Mod Ama/Rozalia 

[hardkinkbardkink]

anon asked: I am once again sending you a prompt, which I think is like my third one? Sorry for the spam I guess. Eskel is the love of my life soo... Eskel meeting Jaskier after The Mountain, and quickly falling in love with the charming bard. He knows Jaskier’s heart belongs to Geralt, but his body belongs to Eskel. They get to Kaer Morhen, and ofc Geralt is there. Eskel having to deal with that- but it all ends happily with a big polyamorous fuck pile. Jaskier definitely has enough love for both witchers.

listen. i. Adore eskel. i fucking LOVE that bitch, i love him greatly and i love him fiercely, he is the light of my life & my forever favourite witcher character and not even sweet darling joey batey as jaskier can change that like?? eskel is It for me. i was maybe seven when i played the first game because it is a National Classic and you were legally obliged by law to play it and wee bairn me looked at this four pixels of a man on my screen and thought fuck guess i gotta be gay?? the fucking. quest. where he gets his face ripped open. when i tell you i cried. and then he got even hotter?? impossible. i’ll never love a character like that again, it’s been too long to change x

my mild obsession aside, did you mean for this to be so angsty? because it is, it’s fucking Sad and has Feelings and also a soft threesome that feels firmly out of place on my noncon-bestiality-centric porn blog (so i posted in on ao3 too)

as always i look at canon and i pretend i do not see it lovelies x

send in more eskel prompts if you want him to get fucked in true hard kink fashion & also send in more eskel prompts in general i will never refuse

***

Eskel has no intention to stop in that tavern at all, until he hears the singing.

It’s nothing, he tells himself.

It’s nothing, and yet he pulls Scorpion to a reluctant halt, pays the stablehand a copper and no mind as he makes his way, ensorcelled, to hover near the entrance. He’d heard the one particular song in so many renditions his head spins with it. Most of them lousy, some of them bearable. This one—

Oh, but this one seems like it’d been torn from the bard’s very soul.

Eskel waits until the final, unusually heart-wrenching notes of Toss a coin bleed into a brief silence.

He doesn’t enjoy taverns much—the burning glances when he settles at a table, swords at his back and hood pulled low over his eyes. The quiet chorus of gasps when he slips the bastard cloak off and people get a good look at his monstrous, twisted face, averting their gaze quickly but drawn in by morbid curiosity again and again. Their reluctance to serve him, to approach him, to trust him with his own damn job.

Eskel’s had decades to get used to it.

Maybe next century.

He pulls the door open with an unsteady hand, eyes falling immediately to the bard, centre stage as he can manage in a wayward tavern not designed for such performances. He’s dressed finely, lavishly, with great care and taste and Eskel lets himself admire, just for a moment.

“Oh,” the bard breathes on a sharp inhale, and his dazzling blue eyes glitter with a sort of recognition that punches Eskel right in the gut with its intensity.

It’s entirely quiet for a few painful heartbeats.

“Oi!” a man hollers to his side, clearly too deep in his cups to try at decency. “Y'heard the bard, toss a fuckin’ coin to the witcher.”

They don’t, and Eskel would never ask that of them—but he’s served a decent pint on the house as soon as he sits down in a darkened corner, and his cheeks can’t exactly burn, but he feels like they would.

The bard gets through another song, a bawdy drinking tune. Eskel keeps his eyes on him the whole time, though he barely hears the words, mesmerised by the sway of the man’s hips and the honey-warm timbre of his voice.

A faint panic rises up in his throat when the bard thanks his audience for their attention, bowing in a manner entirely too exaggerated for this place and time—and makes his way with a strange mix of confidence and reluctance to sit across from Eskel.

“My apologies for presuming,” the bard begins, and Eskel watches with bated breath as his long, shapely fingers wrap around Eskel’s own mug. He takes a deep drink, eyelashes casting lovely shadows on his cheeks. “Eskel?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue, but manages to nod curtly.

“It seems that Destiny’s playing tricks on me.” The bard’s lips twitch up in a sad smile. “I’m Jaskier. Pleased to make your acquaintance, after all these years.”

Jaskier. Jaskier. Of course it’s Geralt’s fucking bard, his—

“I must say, I harboured my hopes that you wouldn’t be quite as broody and silent as Geralt is.”

Eskel manages to shake himself out of it, though only barely.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat in an attempt to make his voice less gravely. Less threatening. “Sorry, fuck, just spent so many winters with Geralt talking my ear off about you, I’d half-expected the bastard to’ve made you up.”

He tries for light-heartedness. A flash of poorly-disguised pain passes through Jaskier’s face, and Eskel realises it was decidedly not the way to go.

“Ah, you won’t have to worry about that anymore, darling. Geralt and I are no longer companionable, in any way.”

Perhaps it’s the darling that does him in. Perhaps it’s the overwhelming desire to never see this brilliant man sad or hurt again. Perhaps it’s Eskel’s own harrowing loneliness.

It doesn’t matter much, because he downs the rest of his ale in three gulps, and then there are warm fingers around his wrist, pulling him away and up the stairs, pushing him into a room and onto a bed with a lapful of bard.

“Goddess,” Jaskier says quietly, almost privately, except that his lips hover temptingly close to Eskel’s. “You do look just like him, if it wasn’t for—”

“The disfigured maw?” Eskel adds helpfully, out of habit if nothing else.

Jaskier puts a gentle hand on his cheek—the scarred one, gods save his soul—and Eskel leans into the touch involuntarily, like a dog starved for affection.

“I was going to say the hair,” Jaskier finishes with a hint of kind amusement, and winks.

Eskel knows, with that first hungry kiss, that he’s absolutely and utterly gone for the bard.

“Beautiful, darling—gods, you’re stunning,” Jaskier whispers later, hands roaming Eskel’s broad chest, and fuck, he hadn’t been touched like this in months, so he hides against the smooth column of Jaskier’s throat—sucks a vivid bruise there like he has any fucking right—and desperately ignores the praise that isn’t meant for him.

He sucks Jaskier’s cock to make him shut up, and gets called lovely and breathtaking and darling angel for his efforts. He opens Jaskier up—mouth latched to the pale insides of his thighs, littering them with bruises—on four fingers and so much chamomile oil the smell makes him lightheaded, and Jaskier tells him he’s a treasure, fuck, so good to me. He gets pushed backwards onto the bed, his wrists guided above his head in a soft suggestion of restraint as Jaskier rides his cock with determined fervour, and he's divine, gorgeous, my sweet, darling witcher.

Jaskier arches beautifully when he comes, spills all over them both, his eyes heavy-lidded, still holding Eskel’s gaze, and Eskel knows he’s only looking for an echo of Geralt in his yellow irises—but he flips them over, takes his pleasure in Jaskier’s body, and he can live with being a second choice when he’s used to being no choice at all.

***

“I’ve been—fuck, awfully lonely on the road, gods, darling—”

Eskel’s quickly found out Jaskier is quite keen on being held, suspended in the air with only Eskel’s hands underneath his thighs and a cock driving into him with haste and despair.

Especially out in the open, on the side of a well-traversed road. Eskel licks absently at the raised imprint of his teeth above Jaskier’s collar and yearns to deepen it, have it stay there forever.

Jaskier pulls at his hair, panting harshly, brings their lips together in a searing kiss. He whines at the back of his throat and his sinful hole flutters around Eskel’s cock, milking him into completion faster than anyone ever could, whispering low into his ear, that’s it, that’s it, love, fill me up ‘til I can’t hold anymore, fuck, so good like nobody ever did.

And if they’re never quite alone in their passions, if Jaskier still searches his eyes for a ghost of someone else—Eskel can pretend he doesn’t see, because he’s the one who gets to fall asleep with the bard pressed up against him, soft and warm and kind.

***

Inkeepers take him in more willingly, when he’s got Jaskier at his side, flashing them a smile full of promise.

He doesn’t need for brothels, when he wakes up to Jaskier lapping at the head of his cock like it’s the sweetest treat. When Jaskier’s unable to keep his hands to himself. When he stays nice and loose and ready for Eskel to pound him into the ground at any moment.

“I’m not a young man anymore,” Jaskier always says after, struggling to catch his breath, even if he were the one palming Eskel’s cock through his breeches.

“You don’t look a day over seventy,” Eskel offers in return, and Jaskier slaps him upside the head in mock offense.

Eskel’s never been happier than he is with Jaskier trudging the Path with him.

Which is why the frost crunching under their boots fills him with a hollow aching. A single snowflake lands pointedly at the very tip of Jaskier’s reddened nose, and Eskel glares at the sky.

He lets Jaskier fuck him, then. They get a room for the night, light the hearth and feed the flames. Share a bottle of wine, of which Eskel takes the brunt. Stretch out leisurely on the furs, and Eskel’s insides tie in knots when he watches the silver hairs on Jaskier’s dark head glimmer in the firelight.

Jaskier takes his time, as Eskel thought he would. Lavishes him with kisses and praise and adoration and Eskel still doesn’t think it’s all his to have, but he melts under Jaskier’s touches anyway.

I love you, he aches to say, to scream at the top of his lungs when Jaskier pushes into him, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut in rapture.

“Come away with me,” he begs instead, on the verge of release and at mercy of the insistent snap of Jaskier’s hips. “To Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier shushes him with a kiss and a gentle hand in his hair.

“I don’t want to leave without you.”

Don’t leave me alone, I can’t bear it again.

He tips Jaskier’s chin up, the bard’s pretty eyes brimming with unshed tears as he nods—and this time, just for a second, Eskel doesn’t feel like a shoddy replacement.

***

They beat Lambert to the keep by three days.

Three days spent reacquainting with the concept of heat and the feeling in their fingers after weeks traversing increasingly higher snowcaps.

Three glorious, uninterrupted days of having Jaskier share his bed in the only place Eskel could ever call home.

When he gets there, Lambert asks when he’s going to get a turn on the bard, and if Eskel beats his insufferable arse in training a little harder than he normally would on the first day—well. It’s what brothers do.

He makes sure to keep the ever-present mark at Jaskier’s throat a vibrant purple when it fades into yellow, and Jaskier begs him for it as sweetly as he begs for his cock, just within Lambert’s earshot.

Geralt doesn’t show for a full fortnight, and then some. The snow piles higher with each day. They all collectively agree that their last wolf won’t show this year, like he did so many years before.

Perhaps it is because Eskel thanks his Lady Destiny too soon, that Geralt staggers into the hall in the midst of a snowstorm, his cloak frozen stiff, frost melting on his silver hair.

They fall into each other’s arms, because they always do; because they're brothers, because they’d been through hell together, because they love each other fiercely even if Eskel can’t think of a single person he’d rather avoid more than Geralt, right now. They stand there in the hall, the snow on Geralt’s collar a shock of cold against Eskel’s neck. And then Geralt stiffens, suddenly, rigid in Eskel’s embrace in a way that has nothing to do with the chill.

“You smell—” Geralt begins, seemingly perplexed, and inhales deeply at the juncture of Eskel’s shoulder.

They fall away from each other abruptly, Eskel’s chest tight with a muffled pull of dread.

“Let’s get you warmed up, yeah? I’ll get Lambert to see to your mare. He might not be too happy to see you, though. You lost him a bet.”

Geralt follows him, almost reluctantly, and Eskel wants just one more night before it all goes to shit. Just the one.

***

Jaskier is sleep-warm and perfect and doesn’t appreciate the chill of Eskel’s skin once he finally gets back into bed.

Eskel takes him too roughly for the time of night, bites at his freckled shoulders and sharp collarbones, has Jaskier trembling and begging for it twice before he lets the bard come.

He muffles his own release against Jaskier’s lips, all too aware of Geralt in a room not a hallway away.

***

The door creaks when it’s pushed open. Faintly, but enough to rouse Eskel awake. He tightens an arm reflexively around Jaskier’s sleeping form, and the bard nuzzles up against the side of his chest.

Yellow eyes stare at them intently, Geralt’s expression unreadable, though the nod he gives can mean only one thing.

Eskel is careful as he untangles their limbs, and his heart decidedly doesn’t pound quicker for a beat when Jaskier reaches out after him and mumbles a sleepy Eskel.

Their footsteps are nearly soundless on the stone floor. Geralt is equally quiet, rigid as a bowstring. They walk for a long time, until they come to a place Jaskier didn’t yet get a chance to explore. Neutral ground. As neutral as can be, with Eskel still drenched in Jaskier’s scent.

“I’m not sorry,” Eskel says finally, and Geralt flinches.

They don’t look at each other.

“Why,” Geralt forces out. Eskel can hear the bones in his jaw click. “Why bring him here.”

Wind howls outside the walls, the storm unrelenting.

I didn’t want to be alone, he almost says, but bites his tongue. Instead,

“You broke him, Geralt. You left and he—he used to call out for you at night, you know? He’d have nightmares and wake up shaking. And I couldn’t help.”

They rarely talk like this, heart to heart under the guise of night.

“Why?” Geralt asks, softer this time. Kinder.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s what’s going to make things right.

“I’m just a substitute. A lousy one at that. He still—he wants you. Loves you.”

And it’s the truth, when he finally admits it out loud. Eskel is more at peace with that than he thought he would.

“Please don’t take it from me,” he whispers, overwhelmed in a way that he was assured the mutagens were supposed to eliminate. “It’s all I have.”

Geralt doesn’t respond, though he does place a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, in comfort or understanding, he couldn’t know.

***

Jaskier keeps his head high.

“Geralt,” the bard greets him, in a manner far too cold and collected.

He doesn’t flinch under Geralt’s gaze, doesn’t look away before Geralt, but when he does—Eskel catches his expression shatter, fall into a million pieces that he desperately wants to collect and put back together. They slip through his fingers.

At night, Jaskier jolts awake clawing at his own throat, crying that he can’t breathe, asking Geralt to help him, please help him. Eskel holds him until the tremors subside. Neither of them sleeps well.

All the good evaporates from Eskel’s life.

The silly marks of faux ownership fade from Jaskier’s skin, eventually, and Eskel’s heart aches.

He kisses Jaskier deeply, puts all his horrible feelings behind it, and then just holds the bard close. For the last time. Eskel knows he isn’t meant to cry—but the trials merely took away his ability to shed tears, not this overpowering fucking desire to do so.

“Eskel?” Jaskier says, gently, the question of what’s wrong implied.

Eskel shakes his head and holds Jaskier tighter.

***

“You. Apologise.”

Geralt seems startled by the development. As does Jaskier, to be fair, shifting nervously where he’s gripping Eskel’s arm.

“I don’t want his apology,” Jaskier says weakly. “We’ve had our words, and they were very—pointed. Very definite. Eskel—”

Jaskier looks to him with wide, terrified eyes.

And it wouldn’t be enough that he has to give up the one good thing in his life, would it? It wouldn’t be enough that every time they fucked Jaskier looked beyond him and for someone else. It wouldn’t be fucking enough that he was madly, unreasonably in love with a man whose affections laid firmly elsewhere.

No, it wouldn’t, because now he has to—

He takes a deep breath and listens to the staccato of Jaskier’s quickened heartbeat.

“I wouldn’t make you do this, except you do want his fucking apology, and Geralt wants to give it to you, because you love him and he loves you and I'm—” useless, disposable, unwanted, "I’m done. I’m done. Figure it out. Please.“

Jaskier’s hands fall away from around his arm, and Eskel takes off.

He doesn’t really have anywhere to go, when every place he’d grown to love in the keep knows Jaskier’s presence, wears his mark and his scent.

The corridors are still and silent. Grey and imposing. Cold is seeping through the thick stone—cold from this winter and the hundreds before it, and Eskel thinks the walls had never truly known warmth. It’s all terribly dull, Jaskier had said when they’d walked the halls that first time, hand in hand with not a worry between them.

He’d been stupid to grow so attached when Jaskier was never his to keep. He’d been stupid to bring him here and expect everything to stay the same in blissful ignorance. He’d been stupid, and he didn’t want to be lonely again, even for just a few months—and now he’s going to be lonely until some merciful beast cuts his suffering short like it was always meant to.

It is, perhaps, too early in the day to drink, but Lambert’s eyes light up when Eskel goes to him with the offer.

Later, out of habit, he almost stumbles into his room before his drunken brain screams at him to keep going. Eskel falls asleep in an abandoned bedroom that smells of dust and time instead of his bard.

***

"You didn’t come to bed.”

Eskel hears Jaskier approaching, of course he does—but he doesn’t turn to face him, eyes firmly fixed on the window, even if it is just snow there. He does feel quite dramatic, sat in a windowsill like a maiden awaiting her beloved to come and whisk her away. Eskel awaits only peace and for his heart to feel whole again.

“Smells like you,” he says, too honest.

Jaskier shuffles closer.

“I waited up for you.”

A hand falls gently to his shoulder, and Eskel shivers at the touch.

“Thought you’d be staying with Geralt. You—you can keep the room, if you want.” Eskel couldn’t ever be comfortable there, anyway, not after everything.

“Darling—”

The hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek, soft and tender and Eskel meets the incredible blue of Jaskier’s eyes easily.

“I never meant to make you feel unwanted,” Jaskier begins. Eskel wishes only to shrink under his gaze. “I want you so, so much.”

Jaskier settles next to him, their thighs pressed together, the black of his trousers startling against wine-red silk. Eskel feels fucking dumb.

“I know it wasn’t about me, I—you should go be with your wolf. I’ll be fine.”

The scars pull tightly when he smiles, aiming for reassuring; it comes out tired and helpless.

Jaskier leans in impossibly close, the ghost of his breath on Eskel’s lips.

“You’re my wolf, too.”

They kiss before he knows it—desperately, hungrily, until Eskel’s head spins and Jaskier’s hands tug at the collar of his shirt.

Eskel pulls away with a deep, burning hatred of himself.

“Just go, Jaskier.” When did his voice grow so cold? He never wants to speak to Jaskier like this, never, and yet— “I don’t need your pity.���

He expects Jaskier to do just that. Go, and avoid him for the rest of winter, and walk around with Geralt’s scent all over him and a mark to the side of his neck and—

“No. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Eskel, gods, I—I’m sorry, yeah? That you couldn’t trust my affection was all for you, and perhaps it wasn’t, not always—”

Fuck, but it does hurt to hear it, just a bit.

“—but then you had to go and be the most splendid creature under the sun and I, well.”

The gold of Jaskier’s rings glitters enticingly in the sparse sunlight when he reaches for Eskel’s hand.

“I do love Geralt, but Eskel, darling. I love you just as much.”

Eskel could fall to his knees if he were the praying sort.

Fuck, he might anyway.

Jaskier kisses him, and Eskel carries the bard all the way to bed to show his worship in a different way.

***

It’s easy to kiss Geralt.

It’s not the first time he’d kissed Geralt.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jaskier moans, somewhere to their side.

Geralt arches his neck beautifully when Eskel grabs a fistful of silver hair and tugs his head backwards.

It is, possibly, the first time he’d kissed Geralt without the hushed secrecy of darkness and a hard scrubbing to get the scent of release off each other.

Jaskier leans over his shoulder to capture Geralt’s lips for himself, chest pressed tightly to Eskel’s back.

He’d thought the jealousy would smother him, when Jaskier first brought it up. He’d thought he would choke on the image of Jaskier laid bare before anyone else. He’d thought—

But it’s Geralt, isn’t it? It’s Geralt, and they’d already shared so much with each other, their joys and their pain and their lives, and—

“Eskel,” Geralt breathes like he used to so many lifetimes ago, except he doesn’t bite his tongue, now, and Eskel leans in to bite instead at the soft skin below his jaw, to leave his mark there, twin to the one he’d left on Jaskier.

They fall softly to the mattress, him and Geralt, with Jaskier crawling over them swiftly, a sun-warm smile on his pretty face.

“Gods. Gods, you’re stunning.”

Eskel turns his head slowly, lazily, and finds Geralt’s eyes heavy and sparkling. Not just yellow, anymore, no longer the colour of a beast's—rather, the exact shade of sunlight caught in honey. Of morning dew on dandelions.

Fuck, he’d grown mellow.

Jaskier comes to straddle him, all pale skin and gorgeous hair and bruises from his hips to his throat. He settles heavily over Eskel’s cock, the bastard tease.

“Jaskier,” Eskel near-hisses, because suddenly the head of his cock dips inside Jaskier’s oil-slick hole. “Fuck, you—”

“Of course I got ready for my wolves, darling,” Jaskier breathes, and laughs, and seats himself completely in Eskel’s lap like it's nothing. “In fact, you might be partial to know—I had to employ the use of my other hand, to prepare for what I have planned.”

Eskel’s head spins, thick with the promise that he doesn’t dare dwell on. His eyes slip shut; Jaskier coaxes them open with nought but a soft word.

He can feel Geralt stir next to him, watching with a tight grip on himself as Jaskier moves easily, like he’d been made only for this, his one divine purpose.

“Geralt,” Eskel hears himself call out weakly. “Geralt, Geralt—”

Words seem only a silly hindrance, so he doesn’t bother, grabbing instead at the thick muscle of Geralt’s thighs, guiding him to sit astride Eskel’s chest, crush him with all that glorious weight—stuff his cock in Eskel’s greedy mouth, fuck.

Eskel thinks he might combust, go up in flames as he’s caught between the agonising pleasure of being buried to the hilt in Jaskier’s slack hole and the heavy satisfaction of having Geralt’s cock glide wetly on his tongue, further and further as Geralt stares at him, bewildered.

It’s a wonder he doesn’t come as soon as the length of it slides seamlessly down his throat, so deep he can feel it when he wraps a hand around his own neck. He squeezes, just to make sure Geralt feels it, too, and the rumble of a groan from above him makes Eskel thrust wildly into the clutch of Jaskier’s maddeningly hot body.

“O-oh, you were made for each other, weren’t you?” Jaskier’s hand is petting gentle circles up Eskel’s heaving stomach. “Fuck, darling, next time I’ll watch you bounce on Geralt’s cock till you sob with it.”

He reaches blindly to grab Jaskier’s hand, entwine their fingers together. With heavy-lidded eyes, he watches Geralt’s head get pulled back for a messy kiss. The bruise on the elegant column of his throat stands dark and proud and Eskel’s chest swells with it, even if it’ll fade in hours. He’ll just have to try very hard to keep it vivid.

Geralt rolls his hips, knees tightening around Eskel’s shoulders, ragged moans filling the air, mingling with the sinful noises dripping from Jaskier’s lips. Eskel’s vision spots, air suddenly hard to come by, and yet it doesn’t cause him distress; fuck, of all the ways to die, being smothered between Geralt’s thighs with Jaskier tight and lovely around his cock is Eskel’s preferred demise, if given a choice. His heartbeat quickens, though, and Geralt stops his delicious rutting, moves away with a tender look and a touch to his swollen lip. He leans down to steal another kiss, but Eskel’s too floaty, too hazy to do anything more than open his sloppy mouth–for Geralt, and then for Jaskier, when he collapses on Eskel’s chest.

“Desperation really is becoming on you, darling.”

Feeling Geralt’s tongue lapping at his cock when it’s still moving in and out of Jaskier—

Feeling a finger press in alongside him, joined quickly by another and another, until the fit is so tight it seems like he’s suffocating—

Feeling the torturously slow drag of Geralt’s cock against his, contained so closely in the heaven of Jaskier’s body—

“Fuck,” Eskel and Geralt groan in perfect harmony, Jaskier trembling wildly in their arms.

“Gods, gods, fuck, I love you, love you both so much—”

Eskel can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but suck in desperate breaths and look as Jaskier’s face morphs from pain into rapture, his brow smoothing out, his bitten-red lips coming apart in a perfect o.

Geralt roars, withdraws his hips just a little, and it jostles Eskel’s very soul.

Fuck, he can't imagine what it’s like for Jaskier.

He wonders if—

“Move,” Jaskier says in a broken voice. “You can move, you can fuck me, a-ah.”

Eskel wishes he could Axii himself into not coming. He wishes—gods, but he can’t, he can’t, and when Geralt starts moving with purpose, Eskel feels the crackle of release at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter until—

“Fuck, Eskel—” Geralt moans, and it’s torture, when Eskel can feel his cock throbbing against Geralt’s, and then he’s coming and coming and coming, a shockwave of sensation.

His ears feel like they’re stuffed with thick wool.

Jaskier kisses him, quick and filthy and needy.

“You’re perfect, perfect, my darling—” he says against Eskel’s lips.

Eskel whines at the back of his throat, his hands trembling where they grab Geralt’s hair and tug him to lean down.

The raw, painful pleasure of his oversensitive cock still trapped within the suffocating heat of Jaskier’s body threatens to undo him completely. He claws blindly at any skin he can reach, to ground himself, to settle against the unrelenting drag of Geralt against him. He can feel his seed dripping out of Jaskier and down his balls. It’s fucking filthy.

He kisses Jaskier and he kisses Geralt and his lips go numb before Jaskier finally tips into a shaking release that rips a hoarse scream from his throat.

The bed is barely big enough for two people, but they make it work. They’ll make it all work, somehow.

Before sleep takes him, Eskel hears Lambert yell, I’m moving the fuck out from down the hall.

[hardkinkbadkink]

I am once again sending you a prompt, which I think is like my third one? Sorry for the spam I guess. Eskel is the love of my life soo... Eskel meeting Jaskier after The Mountain, and quickly falling in love with the charming bard. He knows Jaskier’s heart belongs to Geralt, but his body belongs to Eskel. They get to Kaer Morhen, and ofc Geralt is there. Eskel having to deal with that- but it all ends happily with a big polyamorous fuck pile. Jaskier definitely has enough love for both witchers.

listen. i. Adore eskel. i fucking LOVE that bitch, i love him greatly and i love him fiercely, he is the light of my life & my forever favourite witcher character and not even sweet darling joey batey as jaskier can change that like?? eskel is It for me. i was maybe seven when i played the first game because it is a National Classic and you were legally obliged by law to play it and wee bairn me looked at this four pixels of a man on my screen and thought fuck guess i gotta be gay?? the fucking. quest. where he gets his face ripped open. when i tell you i cried. and then he got even hotter?? impossible. i'll never love a character like that again, it's been too long to change x

my mild obsession aside, did you mean for this to be so angsty? because it is, it's fucking Sad and has Feelings and also a soft threesome that feels firmly out of place on my noncon-bestiality-centric porn blog (so i posted in on ao3 too)

as always i look at canon and i pretend i do not see it lovelies x

send in more eskel prompts if you want him to get fucked in true hard kink fashion & also send in more eskel prompts in general i will never refuse

***

Eskel has no intention to stop in that tavern at all, until he hears the singing.

It's nothing, he tells himself.

It's nothing, and yet he pulls Scorpion to a reluctant halt, pays the stablehand a copper and no mind as he makes his way, ensorcelled, to hover near the entrance. He'd heard the one particular song in so many renditions his head spins with it. Most of them lousy, some of them bearable. This one—

Oh, but this one seems like it'd been torn from the bard's very soul.

Eskel waits until the final, unusually heart-wrenching notes of Toss a coin bleed into a brief silence.

He doesn't enjoy taverns much—the burning glances when he settles at a table, swords at his back and hood pulled low over his eyes. The quiet chorus of gasps when he slips the bastard cloak off and people get a good look at his monstrous, twisted face, averting their gaze quickly but drawn in by morbid curiosity again and again. Their reluctance to serve him, to approach him, to trust him with his own damn job.

Eskel's had decades to get used to it.

Maybe next century.

He pulls the door open with an unsteady hand, eyes falling immediately to the bard, centre stage as he can manage in a wayward tavern not designed for such performances. He's dressed finely, lavishly, with great care and taste and Eskel lets himself admire, just for a moment.

"Oh," the bard breathes on a sharp inhale, and his dazzling blue eyes glitter with a sort of recognition that punches Eskel right in the gut with its intensity.

It's entirely quiet for a few painful heartbeats.

"Oi!" a man hollers to his side, clearly too deep in his cups to try at decency. "Y'heard the bard, toss a fuckin' coin to the witcher."

They don't, and Eskel would never ask that of them—but he's served a decent pint on the house as soon as he sits down in a darkened corner, and his cheeks can't exactly burn, but he feels like they would.

The bard gets through another song, a bawdy drinking tune. Eskel keeps his eyes on him the whole time, though he barely hears the words, mesmerised by the sway of the man's hips and the honey-warm timbre of his voice.

A faint panic rises up in his throat when the bard thanks his audience for their attention, bowing in a manner entirely too exaggerated for this place and time—and makes his way with a strange mix of confidence and reluctance to sit across from Eskel.

"My apologies for presuming," the bard begins, and Eskel watches with bated breath as his long, shapely fingers wrap around Eskel's own mug. He takes a deep drink, eyelashes casting lovely shadows on his cheeks. "Eskel?"

He nearly chokes on his own tongue, but manages to nod curtly.

"It seems that Destiny's playing tricks on me." The bard's lips twitch up in a sad smile. "I'm Jaskier. Pleased to make your acquaintance, after all these years."

Jaskier. Jaskier. Of course it's Geralt's fucking bard, his—

"I must say, I harboured my hopes that you wouldn't be quite as broody and silent as Geralt is."

Eskel manages to shake himself out of it, though only barely.

"Sorry." He clears his throat in an attempt to make his voice less gravely. Less threatening. "Sorry, fuck, just spent so many winters with Geralt talking my ear off about you, I'd half-expected the bastard to've made you up."

He tries for light-heartedness. A flash of poorly-disguised pain passes through Jaskier's face, and Eskel realises it was decidedly not the way to go.

"Ah, you won't have to worry about that anymore, darling. Geralt and I are no longer companionable, in any way."

Perhaps it's the darling that does him in. Perhaps it's the overwhelming desire to never see this brilliant man sad or hurt again. Perhaps it's Eskel's own harrowing loneliness.

It doesn't matter much, because he downs the rest of his ale in three gulps, and then there are warm fingers around his wrist, pulling him away and up the stairs, pushing him into a room and onto a bed with a lapful of bard.

"Goddess," Jaskier says quietly, almost privately, except that his lips hover temptingly close to Eskel's. "You do look just like him, if it wasn't for—"

"The disfigured maw?" Eskel adds helpfully, out of habit if nothing else.

Jaskier puts a gentle hand on his cheek—the scarred one, gods save his soul—and Eskel leans into the touch involuntarily, like a dog starved for affection.

"I was going to say the hair," Jaskier finishes with a hint of kind amusement, and winks.

Eskel knows, with that first hungry kiss, that he's absolutely and utterly gone for the bard.

"Beautiful, darling—gods, you're stunning," Jaskier whispers later, hands roaming Eskel's broad chest, and fuck, he hadn't been touched like this in months, so he hides against the smooth column of Jaskier's throat—sucks a vivid bruise there like he has any fucking right—and desperately ignores the praise that isn't meant for him.

He sucks Jaskier's cock to make him shut up, and gets called lovely and breathtaking and darling angel for his efforts. He opens Jaskier up—mouth latched to the pale insides of his thighs, littering them with bruises—on four fingers and so much chamomile oil the smell makes him lightheaded, and Jaskier tells him he's a treasure, fuck, so good to me. He gets pushed backwards onto the bed, his wrists guided above his head in a soft suggestion of restraint as Jaskier rides his cock with determined fervour, and he's divine, gorgeous, my sweet, darling witcher.

Jaskier arches beautifully when he comes, spills all over them both, his eyes heavy-lidded, still holding Eskel's gaze, and Eskel knows he's only looking for an echo of Geralt in his yellow irises—but he flips them over, takes his pleasure in Jaskier's body, and he can live with being a second choice when he's used to being no choice at all.

***

"I've been—fuck, awfully lonely on the road, gods, darling—"

Eskel's quickly found out Jaskier is quite keen on being held, suspended in the air with only Eskel's hands underneath his thighs and a cock driving into him with haste and despair.

Especially out in the open, on the side of a well-traversed road. Eskel licks absently at the raised imprint of his teeth above Jaskier's collar and yearns to deepen it, have it stay there forever.

Jaskier pulls at his hair, panting harshly, brings their lips together in a searing kiss. He whines at the back of his throat and his sinful hole flutters around Eskel's cock, milking him into completion faster than anyone ever could, whispering low into his ear, that's it, that's it, love, fill me up 'til I can't hold anymore, fuck, so good like nobody ever did.

And if they're never quite alone in their passions, if Jaskier still searches his eyes for a ghost of someone else—Eskel can pretend he doesn't see, because he's the one who gets to fall asleep with the bard pressed up against him, soft and warm and kind.

***

Inkeepers take him in more willingly, when he's got Jaskier at his side, flashing them a smile full of promise.

He doesn't need for brothels, when he wakes up to Jaskier lapping at the head of his cock like it's the sweetest treat. When Jaskier's unable to keep his hands to himself. When he stays nice and loose and ready for Eskel to pound him into the ground at any moment.

"I'm not a young man anymore," Jaskier always says after, struggling to catch his breath, even if he were the one palming Eskel's cock through his breeches.

"You don't look a day over seventy," Eskel offers in return, and Jaskier slaps him upside the head in mock offense.

Eskel's never been happier than he is with Jaskier trudging the Path with him.

Which is why the frost crunching under their boots fills him with a hollow aching. A single snowflake lands pointedly at the very tip of Jaskier's reddened nose, and Eskel glares at the sky.

He lets Jaskier fuck him, then. They get a room for the night, light the hearth and feed the flames. Share a bottle of wine, of which Eskel takes the brunt. Stretch out leisurely on the furs, and Eskel's insides tie in knots when he watches the silver hairs on Jaskier's dark head glimmer in the firelight.

Jaskier takes his time, as Eskel thought he would. Lavishes him with kisses and praise and adoration and Eskel still doesn't think it's all his to have, but he melts under Jaskier's touches anyway.

I love you, he aches to say, to scream at the top of his lungs when Jaskier pushes into him, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut in rapture.

"Come away with me," he begs instead, on the verge of release and at mercy of the insistent snap of Jaskier's hips. "To Kaer Morhen."

Jaskier shushes him with a kiss and a gentle hand in his hair.

"I don't want to leave without you."

Don't leave me alone, I can't bear it again.

He tips Jaskier's chin up, the bard's pretty eyes brimming with unshed tears as he nods—and this time, just for a second, Eskel doesn't feel like a shoddy replacement.

***

They beat Lambert to the keep by three days.

Three days spent reacquainting with the concept of heat and the feeling in their fingers after weeks traversing increasingly higher snowcaps.

Three glorious, uninterrupted days of having Jaskier share his bed in the only place Eskel could ever call home.

When he gets there, Lambert asks when he's going to get a turn on the bard, and if Eskel beats his insufferable arse in training a little harder than he normally would on the first day—well. It's what brothers do.

He makes sure to keep the ever-present mark at Jaskier's throat a vibrant purple when it fades into yellow, and Jaskier begs him for it as sweetly as he begs for his cock, just within Lambert's earshot.

Geralt doesn't show for a full fortnight, and then some. The snow piles higher with each day. They all collectively agree that their last wolf won't show this year, like he did so many years before.

Perhaps it is because Eskel thanks his Lady Destiny too soon, that Geralt staggers into the hall in the midst of a snowstorm, his cloak frozen stiff, frost melting on his silver hair.

They fall into each other's arms, because they always do; because they're brothers, because they'd been through hell together, because they love each other fiercely even if Eskel can't think of a single person he'd rather avoid more than Geralt, right now. They stand there in the hall, the snow on Geralt's collar a shock of cold against Eskel's neck. And then Geralt stiffens, suddenly, rigid in Eskel's embrace in a way that has nothing to do with the chill.

"You smell—" Geralt begins, seemingly perplexed, and inhales deeply at the juncture of Eskel's shoulder.

They fall away from each other abruptly, Eskel's chest tight with a muffled pull of dread.

"Let's get you warmed up, yeah? I'll get Lambert to see to your mare. He might not be too happy to see you, though. You lost him a bet."

Geralt follows him, almost reluctantly, and Eskel wants just one more night before it all goes to shit. Just the one.

***

Jaskier is sleep-warm and perfect and doesn't appreciate the chill of Eskel's skin once he finally gets back into bed.

Eskel takes him too roughly for the time of night, bites at his freckled shoulders and sharp collarbones, has Jaskier trembling and begging for it twice before he lets the bard come.

He muffles his own release against Jaskier's lips, all too aware of Geralt in a room not a hallway away.

***

The door creaks when it's pushed open. Faintly, but enough to rouse Eskel awake. He tightens an arm reflexively around Jaskier's sleeping form, and the bard nuzzles up against the side of his chest.

Yellow eyes stare at them intently, Geralt's expression unreadable, though the nod he gives can mean only one thing.

Eskel is careful as he untangles their limbs, and his heart decidedly doesn't pound quicker for a beat when Jaskier reaches out after him and mumbles a sleepy Eskel.

Their footsteps are nearly soundless on the stone floor. Geralt is equally quiet, rigid as a bowstring. They walk for a long time, until they come to a place Jaskier didn't yet get a chance to explore. Neutral ground. As neutral as can be, with Eskel still drenched in Jaskier's scent.

"I'm not sorry," Eskel says finally, and Geralt flinches.

They don't look at each other.

"Why," Geralt forces out. Eskel can hear the bones in his jaw click. "Why bring him here."

Wind howls outside the walls, the storm unrelenting.

I didn't want to be alone, he almost says, but bites his tongue. Instead,

"You broke him, Geralt. You left and he—he used to call out for you at night, you know? He'd have nightmares and wake up shaking. And I couldn't help."

They rarely talk like this, heart to heart under the guise of night.

"Why?" Geralt asks, softer this time. Kinder.

It doesn't feel right, but it's what's going to make things right.

"I'm just a substitute. A lousy one at that. He still—he wants you. Loves you."

And it's the truth, when he finally admits it out loud. Eskel is more at peace with that than he thought he would.

"Please don't take it from me," he whispers, overwhelmed in a way that he was assured the mutagens were supposed to eliminate. "It's all I have."

Geralt doesn't respond, though he does place a hand on Eskel's shoulder, in comfort or understanding, he couldn't know.

***

Jaskier keeps his head high.

"Geralt," the bard greets him, in a manner far too cold and collected.

He doesn't flinch under Geralt's gaze, doesn't look away before Geralt, but when he does—Eskel catches his expression shatter, fall into a million pieces that he desperately wants to collect and put back together. They slip through his fingers.

At night, Jaskier jolts awake clawing at his own throat, crying that he can't breathe, asking Geralt to help him, please help him. Eskel holds him until the tremors subside. Neither of them sleeps well.

All the good evaporates from Eskel's life.

The silly marks of faux ownership fade from Jaskier's skin, eventually, and Eskel's heart aches.

He kisses Jaskier deeply, puts all his horrible feelings behind it, and then just holds the bard close. For the last time. Eskel knows he isn't meant to cry—but the trials merely took away his ability to shed tears, not this overpowering fucking desire to do so.

"Eskel?" Jaskier says, gently, the question of what's wrong implied.

Eskel shakes his head and holds Jaskier tighter.

***

"You. Apologise."

Geralt seems startled by the development. As does Jaskier, to be fair, shifting nervously where he's gripping Eskel's arm.

"I don't want his apology," Jaskier says weakly. "We've had our words, and they were very—pointed. Very definite. Eskel—"

Jaskier looks to him with wide, terrified eyes.

And it wouldn't be enough that he has to give up the one good thing in his life, would it? It wouldn't be enough that every time they fucked Jaskier looked beyond him and for someone else. It wouldn't be fucking enough that he was madly, unreasonably in love with a man whose affections laid firmly elsewhere.

No, it wouldn't, because now he has to—

He takes a deep breath and listens to the staccato of Jaskier's quickened heartbeat.

"I wouldn't make you do this, except you do want his fucking apology, and Geralt wants to give it to you, because you love him and he loves you and I'm—" useless, disposable, unwanted, "I'm done. I'm done. Figure it out. Please."

Jaskier's hands fall away from around his arm, and Eskel takes off.

He doesn't really have anywhere to go, when every place he'd grown to love in the keep knows Jaskier's presence, wears his mark and his scent.

The corridors are still and silent. Grey and imposing. Cold is seeping through the thick stone—cold from this winter and the hundreds before it, and Eskel thinks the walls had never truly known warmth. It's all terribly dull, Jaskier had said when they'd walked the halls that first time, hand in hand with not a worry between them.

He'd been stupid to grow so attached when Jaskier was never his to keep. He'd been stupid to bring him here and expect everything to stay the same in blissful ignorance. He'd been stupid, and he didn't want to be lonely again, even for just a few months—and now he's going to be lonely until some merciful beast cuts his suffering short like it was always meant to.

It is, perhaps, too early in the day to drink, but Lambert's eyes light up when Eskel goes to him with the offer.

Later, out of habit, he almost stumbles into his room before his drunken brain screams at him to keep going. Eskel falls asleep in an abandoned bedroom that smells of dust and time instead of his bard.

***

"You didn't come to bed."

Eskel hears Jaskier approaching, of course he does—but he doesn't turn to face him, eyes firmly fixed on the window, even if it is just snow there. He does feel quite dramatic, sat in a windowsill like a maiden awaiting her beloved to come and whisk her away. Eskel awaits only peace and for his heart to feel whole again.

"Smells like you," he says, too honest.

Jaskier shuffles closer.

"I waited up for you."

A hand falls gently to his shoulder, and Eskel shivers at the touch.

"Thought you'd be staying with Geralt. You—you can keep the room, if you want." Eskel couldn't ever be comfortable there, anyway, not after everything.

"Darling—"

The hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek, soft and tender and Eskel meets the incredible blue of Jaskier's eyes easily.

"I never meant to make you feel unwanted," Jaskier begins. Eskel wishes only to shrink under his gaze. "I want you so, so much."

Jaskier settles next to him, their thighs pressed together, the black of his trousers startling against wine-red silk. Eskel feels fucking dumb.

"I know it wasn't about me, I—you should go be with your wolf. I'll be fine."

The scars pull tightly when he smiles, aiming for reassuring; it comes out tired and helpless.

Jaskier leans in impossibly close, the ghost of his breath on Eskel's lips.

"You're my wolf, too."

They kiss before he knows it—desperately, hungrily, until Eskel's head spins and Jaskier's hands tug at the collar of his shirt.

Eskel pulls away with a deep, burning hatred of himself.

"Just go, Jaskier." When did his voice grow so cold? He never wants to speak to Jaskier like this, never, and yet— "I don't need your pity."

He expects Jaskier to do just that. Go, and avoid him for the rest of winter, and walk around with Geralt's scent all over him and a mark to the side of his neck and—

"No. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Eskel, gods, I—I'm sorry, yeah? That you couldn't trust my affection was all for you, and perhaps it wasn't, not always—"

Fuck, but it does hurt to hear it, just a bit.

"—but then you had to go and be the most splendid creature under the sun and I, well."

The gold of Jaskier's rings glitters enticingly in the sparse sunlight when he reaches for Eskel's hand.

"I do love Geralt, but Eskel, darling. I love you just as much."

Eskel could fall to his knees if he were the praying sort.

Fuck, he might anyway.

Jaskier kisses him, and Eskel carries the bard all the way to bed to show his worship in a different way.

***

It's easy to kiss Geralt.

It's not the first time he'd kissed Geralt.

"Fuck, look at you," Jaskier moans, somewhere to their side.

Geralt arches his neck beautifully when Eskel grabs a fistful of silver hair and tugs his head backwards.

It is, possibly, the first time he'd kissed Geralt without the hushed secrecy of darkness and a hard scrubbing to get the scent of release off each other.

Jaskier leans over his shoulder to capture Geralt's lips for himself, chest pressed tightly to Eskel's back.

He'd thought the jealousy would smother him, when Jaskier first brought it up. He'd thought he would choke on the image of Jaskier laid bare before anyone else. He'd thought—

But it's Geralt, isn't it? It's Geralt, and they'd already shared so much with each other, their joys and their pain and their lives, and—

"Eskel," Geralt breathes like he used to so many lifetimes ago, except he doesn't bite his tongue, now, and Eskel leans in to bite instead at the soft skin below his jaw, to leave his mark there, twin to the one he'd left on Jaskier.

They fall softly to the mattress, him and Geralt, with Jaskier crawling over them swiftly, a sun-warm smile on his pretty face.

"Gods. Gods, you're stunning."

Eskel turns his head slowly, lazily, and finds Geralt's eyes heavy and sparkling. Not just yellow, anymore, no longer the colour of a beast's—rather, the exact shade of sunlight caught in honey. Of morning dew on dandelions.

Fuck, he'd grown mellow.

Jaskier comes to straddle him, all pale skin and gorgeous hair and bruises from his hips to his throat. He settles heavily over Eskel's cock, the bastard tease.

"Jaskier," Eskel near-hisses, because suddenly the head of his cock dips inside Jaskier's oil-slick hole. "Fuck, you—"

"Of course I got ready for my wolves, darling," Jaskier breathes, and laughs, and seats himself completely in Eskel's lap like it's nothing. "In fact, you might be partial to know—I had to employ the use of my other hand, to prepare for what I have planned."

Eskel's head spins, thick with the promise that he doesn't dare dwell on. His eyes slip shut; Jaskier coaxes them open with nought but a soft word.

He can feel Geralt stir next to him, watching with a tight grip on himself as Jaskier moves easily, like he'd been made only for this, his one divine purpose.

"Geralt," Eskel hears himself call out weakly. "Geralt, Geralt—"

Words seem only a silly hindrance, so he doesn't bother, grabbing instead at the thick muscle of Geralt's thighs, guiding him to sit astride Eskel's chest, crush him with all that glorious weight—stuff his cock in Eskel's greedy mouth, fuck.

Eskel thinks he might combust, go up in flames as he's caught between the agonising pleasure of being buried to the hilt in Jaskier's slack hole and the heavy satisfaction of having Geralt's cock glide wetly on his tongue, further and further as Geralt stares at him, bewildered.

It's a wonder he doesn't come as soon as the length of it slides seamlessly down his throat, so deep he can feel it when he wraps a hand around his own neck. He squeezes, just to make sure Geralt feels it, too, and the rumble of a groan from above him makes Eskel thrust wildly into the clutch of Jaskier's maddeningly hot body.

"O-oh, you were made for each other, weren't you?" Jaskier's hand is petting gentle circles up Eskel's heaving stomach. "Fuck, darling, next time I'll watch you bounce on Geralt's cock till you sob with it."

He reaches blindly to grab Jaskier's hand, entwine their fingers together. With heavy-lidded eyes, he watches Geralt's head get pulled back for a messy kiss. The bruise on the elegant column of his throat stands dark and proud and Eskel's chest swells with it, even if it'll fade in hours. He'll just have to try very hard to keep it vivid.

Geralt rolls his hips, knees tightening around Eskel's shoulders, ragged moans filling the air, mingling with the sinful noises dripping from Jaskier's lips. Eskel's vision spots, air suddenly hard to come by, and yet it doesn't cause him distress; fuck, of all the ways to die, being smothered between Geralt's thighs with Jaskier tight and lovely around his cock is Eskel's preferred demise, if given a choice. His heartbeat quickens, though, and Geralt stops his delicious rutting, moves away with a tender look and a touch to his swollen lip. He leans down to steal another kiss, but Eskel's too floaty, too hazy to do anything more than open his sloppy mouth--for Geralt, and then for Jaskier, when he collapses on Eskel's chest.

"Desperation really is becoming on you, darling."

Feeling Geralt's tongue lapping at his cock when it's still moving in and out of Jaskier—

Feeling a finger press in alongside him, joined quickly by another and another, until the fit is so tight it seems like he's suffocating—

Feeling the torturously slow drag of Geralt's cock against his, contained so closely in the heaven of Jaskier's body—

"Fuck," Eskel and Geralt groan in perfect harmony, Jaskier trembling wildly in their arms.

"Gods, gods, fuck, I love you, love you both so much—"

Eskel can't speak, can't move, can't do anything but suck in desperate breaths and look as Jaskier's face morphs from pain into rapture, his brow smoothing out, his bitten-red lips coming apart in a perfect o.

Geralt roars, withdraws his hips just a little, and it jostles Eskel's very soul.

Fuck, he can't imagine what it's like for Jaskier.

He wonders if—

"Move," Jaskier says in a broken voice. "You can move, you can fuck me, a-ah."

Eskel wishes he could Axii himself into not coming. He wishes—gods, but he can't, he can't, and when Geralt starts moving with purpose, Eskel feels the crackle of release at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter until—

"Fuck, Eskel—" Geralt moans, and it's torture, when Eskel can feel his cock throbbing against Geralt's, and then he's coming and coming and coming, a shockwave of sensation.

His ears feel like they're stuffed with thick wool.

Jaskier kisses him, quick and filthy and needy.

"You're perfect, perfect, my darling—" he says against Eskel's lips.

Eskel whines at the back of his throat, his hands trembling where they grab Geralt's hair and tug him to lean down.

The raw, painful pleasure of his oversensitive cock still trapped within the suffocating heat of Jaskier's body threatens to undo him completely. He claws blindly at any skin he can reach, to ground himself, to settle against the unrelenting drag of Geralt against him. He can feel his seed dripping out of Jaskier and down his balls. It's fucking filthy.

He kisses Jaskier and he kisses Geralt and his lips go numb before Jaskier finally tips into a shaking release that rips a hoarse scream from his throat.

The bed is barely big enough for two people, but they make it work. They'll make it all work, somehow.

Before sleep takes him, Eskel hears Lambert yell, I'm moving the fuck out from down the hall.

[chxnyeol]

fireworks - k.ji

Pairing: Reader x Jongin (Kai)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Established relationship, a cute little New Year imagine a day late sorry orz featuring our sweet Nini!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I actually hadn’t intended to write anything for New Years, but, as I got started, this just felt right. I’d also intended for Yeol to be the subject of the first EXO imagine on this blog (war flashbacks to brit saying: “God: okay tumblr user chxnyeol” in a completely different context), BUT here we are. This was really fun and sweet to write and I enjoyed it a lot. I’m looking forward to writing a lot more with this upcoming year, so I hope you guys enjoy this and look forward to more. Also, Happy 2020! I hope this year is fruitful and full of stability and love for everyone.

Jongin felt his heart thudding harder in his chest as you slipped your hand into his, discreetly shifting a bit closer to him so you could tuck yourself against his side, sharing in his warmth as the cold night air brushed against both of your skin. He cast a glance down at you without moving his head, feeling both a rush of amusement and adoration as he found you staring straight ahead, purposefully avoiding his gaze as pink began to touch your cheeks at your movements. You weren't normally this physically affectionate with him, though it wasn't much- your relationship was still in its infancy and you were still getting used to being close to one another, to initiating contact and maintaining it, though you were a little more shy about it than he was. He found himself constantly wanting to wrap himself around you, wrap you up in him, show you the budding love that he had a hard time expressing in words; but, he respected you and your pace, and he would gladly wait until you grew into the comfort of what the two of you had, afraid to overwhelm. He had already waited this long, pining after you from the first moment you'd entered the coffee shop he'd worked at- he could wait a little longer, wait forever if you wanted him to.

This didn't happen all of a sudden. He had to work for your attention, your gaze always seeming aloof and cool whenever he handed you your order, your words with him addressed to a stranger, short and polite. He had to work at your walls to get to know you, eventually taking his lunch breaks at the same time you'd come in every day, working his courage up to sit across from you one day, make conversation, acquaint himself with your pretty voice. He wasn't sure it was working, until your visits began to become more frequent, until you started asking him what time he got off and showed up right on time each day, giving you two a few stolen moments together to converse and laugh as you walked home together. He learned that you hated vegetables and that he loved your laugh.

When he'd asked you out on your first date, he felt like his tongue would shrivel up and die from dryness before he even got the chance. The night was sticky and humid enough as it was, and he was drenched in sweat by the time you two arrived at the front of your apartment complex, self-consciousness nearly making him abort the mission altogether. But, then you had lingered a little longer than usual, looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours and knee-buckling smile- and, though he stumbled over every single word and didn't say anything the way he'd practiced, you'd still lit up and, somehow, understood what he was asking through his jumbled mess of a confession. You'd told him to pick you up at 7:00 the next day. He was there at 6:30.

He didn't consider himself terribly shy, normally finding himself pretty self-assured; but, being with you made him feel that way in a way he hadn’t known before, your first few official dates full of awkward banter and laughter but eventually warming into something familiar and easy. That was how he felt walking along the boardwalk with you now, watching as you pulled ahead of him just a little, yet never letting go of his hand- familiar, easy, warmed by affection despite the cold breathing around you.

Other couples milled about and you two had to pick your way, carefully, through them. He let you lead, as always, liked watching you whenever you were determined to do something or making something happen like you were tonight. You had chosen the date tonight, surprising him when you had told him that you had just the thing planned for the two of you to do on New Year's Eve, then refused to give him any more information. He didn't mind, he'd follow you wherever you wanted to go, the thought ghosting a smile on his lips as much as watching you navigate them, clutching tighter to his hand, did.

Finally, the two of you stopped, wiggling your way between two couples so you could lean just against the railing of the boardwalk, the dark ocean stretching before your sight like ink. He knew you liked the ocean, though it'd been too cold to bring you here before now. Because of the close proximity of the other couples, you had to stand closer to him, pressed against his frame, but you seemed relaxed and leaned in to his chest a little more for comfort that made his skin tingle happily, though your gaze still, shyly, refused to meet his. He didn't mind.

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around your waist and secured it only when you didn't tense, making sure that you were okay with the touch. You felt cold and he wanted to cover you with himself, share his coat with you cutely; but, he settled with this for now, content just to be this close to you. The two of you stood like that for what felt like forever and too short a time all at once for him, you watching the lap of the waves on the shore and leaning into the soft wash of the ocean's whisper and him watching you admire it, doting quietly on the way your hair fell softly to frame your cheeks, how small you looked against him, the glimmer of the moon reflected in your eyes, wide and full of wonder and appreciation. If the other guys were here now, they'd tease him again for just how smitten he was for you and he'd have to let them, knowing their words to be true. He was head over heels.

A murmur started in the crowd, drawing both of your attention as everyone began to announce that midnight was only a minute away now, making a buzz of excitement roar to life to replace the cold around you, vibrating off of your skin and shooting goosebumps up his arm from where your hands were still joined. He was feeling nervous, suddenly, as though on your first date all over again. Normally couples kissed at midnight, didn't they? All you'd ever allowed him was a brush of his lips on your forehead in comfort, or across your cheek in a farewell- he had been waiting for you to let your lips find his, to give him permission, and he didn't think now was the proper time to ask. Bodies began to shuffle even closer to the two of you and he tightened his arm around your grip protectively, steeling himself against the push of people who were trying to make room at the railing, too, his mind beginning to churn like the waves before you both. Only thirty seconds left.

Then, he felt a vibration from your body that tinkled out of you in a soft laugh, immediately causing him to relax again, fingertips drumming against your hip to release his energy. Right- it didn't matter if you kissed or not, you didn't like clichés and he felt no rush, happy, so happy, to match your pace. As the crowd began to murmur their count down, excited shouts of “10!” rising up out of the wave of people, he felt you suddenly shift in his grip, turning around so your back was to the railing and you could face him.

“9!” He blinked at you then- a soft, curious smile on his lips as you looked up at him with one of reassurance- comfortable, warm.

“8!” Your hand left his and he immediately missed the touch, but you drew your fingers to the edge of his coat, tightening your hands into cute little fists as you held on to him, drawing him a little closer until you were chest-to-chest.

“7!” Your smile faltered for just a hair of a second and your gaze flickered away from him for a moment before finding him again, a sudden intensity there that made his cheeks warm under your stare. He wanted to say something, join in the chorus of chants and encourage you to do the same, but he felt anchored by the weight of the emotion he couldn't quite name that he saw in your orbs.

“6!” The longer he stared, the more he felt clarity and joy as he made sense of that emotion swimming in those pretty eyes, the pure emotion that always sat just on the tip of his tongue for you.

“5!” You were all that he could see now, the way you were smiling at him making him feel like his heart would never find a normal pace again, and, as you shifted onto your tiptoes to bring your face just a bit closer to his, he found himself perfectly okay with that fact.

“4!” You paused, then, gaze searching his face and then, seemingly pleased by what you found, your pretty lashes drew your lids closed and you began to close the space between the two of you, Jongin’s head filling with clouds and sunshine and warm, despite your surroundings.

“3!” He held his breath as he felt yours fanning over his lips.

“2!” He always wondered how it would sound, coming from your lips- those three words that made his head fuzzy each time he saw you walk into a room, each time you turned to him and pleasure touched your gaze as it fell on him. Now, he knew, there were a better way to receive those words, that confirmation that you felt the same.

“1!” Even though he let his lids fall closed, too, he could see the flash of the fireworks as they burst into the sky behind you- or, maybe that was just his mind, sparking with joy, with excitement, with love for you.

“Happy New Year!” He didn’t want to remember anything else but this moment for the rest of his life- the burst of noise and cheers and shouts, the roar of the fireworks and their prettily colored flashes, the soft press, like flower petals, and precious taste of your lips, made sweet by the words that hid behind them and the curve of your smile that he could feel against his. Nothing could be more perfect than this, than you; but, he looked forward to the possibilities that the New Year presented, to test the theory and find the answer with you.

[theoriginaljock]

She didn't expect adora to be someone so pointy and cheesy on dates, she found it hilarious, but ironically adorable. How nervous she was , how both of them were. Her face turned a bright red once again as adora leaned to kiss Her cheek. It was such a comforting and soft sensation, warm and soft lips, Landing on her cheek. She felt like burning inside , it was so sweet and delicate. She almost wished for it to last longer .

Catra went to the table with Her , and all of this was ...very cliché. Especially when adora handed Her a bouquet , she took it in Her hands , Her eyes flicking from the other's face and the flowers , and she eventually let out in an attempt of joking

" So, should I eat those ? " She smiled slightly. That was terrible joke to make , actually. She Wasn't good with dates , sarcasm was Her forte and...not very appropriate

" Sorry that was a Bad joke...thank you though"

The cat lady sat down on her chair , in front of adora as she was served. That looked pretty good , and she could only smile in excitment at the drink she had in front of Her. How did she figure this out ? Her ears started to Flick a few Times , like it did before. It was an habit she had whenever she had a burst of joy about something, it was stopping Her from purring.

" That looks good " she didn't hesitate to taste the liquid sitting in Her glass

She tilted Her ears in direction of adora when she started talking , and her face followed. Oh , yeah. The night she nicely ruined... She sighed slightly and gulped . Shouldn't think about it , didn't happen.

She took a bite of the food as well, and didn't expect adora to be a great cook.she was discovering a lot of things about this woman which she didn't expect.

She thought for a second , trying to Come up with a song.she liked many and Never tried to find a fav' one or anything. Though, she knew What to answer for a specific Reason

" Born to die. " She shrugged , and asked in return " what's yours ?"

She gulped down the contents of her beer, thinking about her answer, it seemed that she was more than what she expected, she wasn’t used to girls being more than looks or a pretty face, every single time she tried asking about their favorite activities or just talk about nonsense, they cut to the chase..

It was refreshing knowing that Catra wasn’t like them at all.

“Love is my favorite song..” she took out her phone and showed her to whom it belonged “..I think it’s. aver sweet song y’know? It’s about how simple yet fulfilling love can be. It’s about…falling in love and accepting it as something that can be bittersweet” she rested her chin on her hand, smiling innocently at her.

Oh it was long since she felt so cozy and at ease with somebody else. Catra was indeed a handful, she was rough around the edges, a little narcissistic and always with this defensive stance on her but…something in those mismatched hues told her the exact opposite. Last night’s confession was something on the heavy side of the road, of course Catra wouldn’t allow anybody near her specially someone of the likes of her own breed. A shameless flirt and a jock..

It kinda hurt thinking about herself that way but Adora lived with the decisions she had made, at least they let her sleep at night.

“…So I take you are no longer mad at me uh?. Next question, …what’s up with Scorpia and you?” she arched a brow trying to hide a hint of jealousy creeping up to her eyes “..she gave me back my sweater and I kinda felt rejected y’know?” she coughed, grabbing another drink from her cooler. The night breeze was so inviting and calm, faint forests sounds could be heard all around them, thank goodness that Bow and glimmer decided to go and play pool back at the bar for the night, they would have all the time for themselves and whatever long conversations they had in mind

[tagging: @rp-blog-uh]

[hazzabeeforlou]

Hi!♡ How are you? I'm new here and i haven't been following you for long but i really like your blog!! so i wanted to ask you how did you become a fan of the boys? And a larrie? (Sorry if you've already answered this like a hundred times aha) and also, if you want, just randomly name some things that make you happy! I always like reading that

Hello lovely anon, and welcome!! Thank you you’re so sweet 💜 This is a loooong story so buckle up ;) Back in 2016 I graduated from a conservatory with my MM and immediately had super invasive debilitating surgery (an even longer story) so instead of hunting for a job I ended up going home and learning to play my instrument again :/ My year was depressing and awful and to be entirely honest I wished I had died during the surgery, that’s how bad it was. My only glimmers of happiness were compiling playlists of the old 60s/70s tunes my art teacher used to play (the ONLY pop music I knew) and watching Colbert and SNL. Of course in 2017 Harold was the musical guest one night, and I was like huh, kindof have heard of him, interesting, but then he muffed a note on SOTT and I got SUCH bad second hand nerves I switched channels!! Then this kid shows up again after Colbert hosting the LLS (which I never watched). Anyways he opened with PUNS. Which got my attention. Now I decided to give his music a listen and guess what??? It was SO accessible to me because it was similar to the 60/70s stuff I knew! So I bought my FIRST EVER pop artist album. And I listened to it for HOURS each day. It had a special kind of magic to it, and old soul-ness and beauty and imagination, and it inspired me to keep going with my own musical journey. Literally saved me. SO ANYWAYS. By this time I’m a Harry Styles FAN. He’s quirky and adorable. I decided to search him on tumblr. HORRIBLE IDEA. Found all these “imagines”???? talking about sex and slapping and daddy and who knows what else and I honestly almost ran for the hills, but THEN I came across @seasurfacefullofclouds1 and low and behold, she was analyzing his album. I devoured her blog, probably sent her half the asks she got in summer of 2017, and through her heard about Louis (my knowledge of Louis before had been via the random Harries on tumblr and it was NOT a positive characterization). Thus I travelled down the rabbit hole of Freddieismyqueen, and, being a romantic but also rather a skeptic with a good deal too much common sense, I weighed things out for a good long while. And while I could understand touches being misinterpreted or tweets being overblown or rumors getting out of hand, I couldn’t deny the way they looked at each other. If you’ve been on the receiving end of a lovesick look you KNOW what it’s like. Also being in the music world, I knew plenty about PR and industry secrets and so forth. So I lurked around for a while, then finally made this blog in March 2018! And I’ve had such a wonderful time here, made SO many lovely friends, and fallen madly in love with 5 adorable floofs and their music (I really do mean that, I love ALL the boys’ music, I’ve listened to them all a ton!) ANYWHO. That’s much longer than you likely wanted but here you go!! Thanks for the ask love 💜🧡💚💛💙❤️🌈

[iceartweek]

Final Ice Art Day

Before I get into it, just thank you for being here. Whether you’ve read the mediocre fics I wrote, or contributed art or fic that genuinely I loved and was amazing, or whatever you did, thanks. I know it’s just a trial and wasn’t super huge but I had fun, so thanks for letting me. If anyone still had things I’d love to see it, but even if there isn’t this blog will remain open.

Anyway. Final Day. Future

Marinette stood on her balcony practically bouncing where she was. The sun was going to set soon and the fairy lights that she had lined the park with were lighting up. The ones on Luka’s boat would also light up when everything was ready. In some ways the fact it had got trapped when her miraculous ladybugs fixed the bridge destroyed the akuma was sort of sad especially as Anarka had lost hope years ago of getting it moved, but on the other hand it had meant she had spent her senior years waking up to Luka’s serenades and him always just a moment away. Now she could just see Luka and Kagami in the greenhouse adjusting their outfits and triple checking everything. Her musical prince who had slowly taken over the world with his ballads and volunteering much time to Music Fund. Then her now long haired princess who after nearly making it to the Olympics decided she could do good in the UN as she wasn’t afraid of standing up for what she believed in and after Hawky’s defeat felt weird not helping others. Sure she wasn’t a full fledged diplomat yet but she was on her way. From the small glimpses she saw they looked perfect.

“Are you ready, my love?” Felix asked, Marinette turning to see him extending a hand and looking suave. Even ten years later and he was making her catch her breath every time she saw him. For a while he had helped with his father’s business but focused more on the work than life part, often taking on too much due to a fear of delegation. Eventually they had all convinced him to calm down a bit because between the four of them anything was possible so he might as well follow his dreams. While he figured out exactly what he wanted - lawyer, politician, and air host were currently at the top of the list - he had opened up a quaint little book shop. Marinette already knew how it would end though. He had helped out at the bakery one too many times and with her parents retiring in the next five years he’d likely take over. Tom was convincing. 

“If you think so?” Marinette responded doing a quick twirl in her dress. The hat from way back had served her well in being noticed, especially when she became the girl to refuse Audrey Bourgeois. With Jagged also backing her and personal drive she had started her own label. For a while she dabbled in esports but that turned out to be a flop, and baking was a hobby and not something she wanted to do full time. Fashion just always was there for her and seeing people comfortable in things she made was inspiring to say the least. Especially when it was her loves who could wear a paper bag and still look great. 

“You always look stunning,” Complimented Felix, planting a soft kiss on her lips, fingers playing with the tips of her short hair before going down her arm to grab her hand. “Handsome even.”

“Thank you,” Smiled Marinette feeling the blush comeback. 

As she walked down the steps she considered a bit of what happened in the past ten years from simple high school dramas to Hawkmoth’s defeat. Just how had her pack managed to survive that? It was a miracle. Even Alya and Nino had broken up for about half of that before finding each other again, and Rose and Juleka who had been the perfect couple had split. And they had been perfect. That being said Rose and her new girl Violet a travelling tour guide in south east Asia were just beyond adorable together, shame neither of them could make it. Juleka with Clara was also a surprisingly good fit. 

“If you forgot the rings-” Marinette warned coming back to reality hugging Felix’s arm a little tighter.

“I have them. Your design with Luka’s touches and using Kagami’s old rapier and with the glimmer of Agreste jewels. How could I possibly lose them?” Felix retorted patting his pocket. Originally they had planned to just swap rings. Luka would give the black one he always wore to Kagami, Kagami would give her family ring to Felix, Felix would give his mother’s engagement ring to Marinette, and she would give a family heirloom ring to Luka, but it just hadn’t seemed special enough. “You worry too much.”

“Marinette!” Squealed Sabrina at the bottom of the stairs. Their ceremony organiser because after so long of carrying Chloe it was realised she had a very keen sense of style and amazing time management skills. Wedding, funerals, birthdays, or love dedications like the one today and she was the go to gal. Once she had called Chloe out and set boundaries she had changed a lot, from meek and timid to firm and do not cross her. “You look gorgeous. Everyone is here and waiting!”

“Thanks, Brina,” Marinette gave the girl a quick hug and kiss cheek. “Does that include-”

“We’re not a thing,” Snapped back Sabrina.

“Really?” Felix questioned genuinely surprised. “Could have sworn you were unless we’re talking about someone different.”

“Chloe and I were never a thing. Just friends,” Sabrina corrected clicking her pen a few times. “It’s what she wanted.”

“We better go before Jagged starts doing a rock cover of here comes the bride,” Marinette hurried just wanting to leave the awkward situation. From the limit gossip she knew, when Chloe had tried to be a better person Sabrina had always been by her side, always being ditched for the first hotel heir or prince to walk into view. Everyone blamed Audrey indocrinating Chloe into money and style is everything and everyone is below you, but after a certain age it got old. Sabrina and Chloe were still friends and Chloe was a much nicer person, but somethings were just never outgrown. 

“Good call,” Felix agreed holding the door open for Marinette. They turned into the park, sun very very close to being perfect. Gina and Rolland off in one corner having a hushed argument which everyone could probably guess what was being said. Sabine trying to get Tom to stop crying on his daughters’ day. Tomoe, Anarka, and Felix’s parents drinking champagne, Anarka already laughing a bit too hard. 

“So I can officially retire as your knight now? Contracts signed and they can’t back out anymore?” Adrien joked standing next to the door. Even as an adult he was model material, despite no cameras being on him anymore. 

“I thought you were going to be in Nice!” Marinette exclaimed in surprise, before giving him a tight hug. “Something about Nathalie or family assets?”

“And miss my bugaboo’s big day?” Laughed Adrien hugging her back. When they stepped back he shook Felix’s hand but it was clear even after everything they hadn’t become super close. “As your original crime fighting partner it is my duty to make sure you are not harmed and nothing ruins this day. I’ve already stolen Plagg back from Fu so will cataclysm anyone who has cold feet or any girl wearing white. Give me the signal and the claws will come out.”

“But you’re ok?” Marinette thought back on his face when Gabriel had been defeated and Emilie’s body had been found. Even now they were searching for Emilie who had taken the two miraculouses and fled, somehow managing to escape them. Until she was caught, Adrien couldn’t have peace. He had trusted Nathalie and she had abandoned him and the threat of Hawkmoth, or a version of him, was forever looming. Sure, Adrien was coping but having the tip Nathalie was close by couldn’t be easy. 

For a moment she remembered the reveals and all the rejections. So much heartbreak and drama that at the time seemed world ending. He managed to handle it all with grace though. Just disappearing for a few days after the reveal, before coming back with smiles and jokes, calling Marinette cousin, threatening her royal court that if they ever hurt her they would be dead. He had also threatened Marinette if she ever hurt Kagami but it was a weak attempt. From there they had gone back to friends which seemed perfect. They were still there for each other whether it be late night ice-cream sessions dishing out relationship advice or supporting him when the truth about his family came out. They really were better as friends. 

“Always,” Smiled Adrien. “Trust me, I have the purr-fect cat-itude and your day will be pawsome.”

“Urgh, still? One day you have to stop the puns,” Marinette warned.

“Auntie Mari!” Screeched a kid colliding into Marinette, her arms wrapping around Marinette’s legs nearly making her fall over. Felix put a hand on her back to steady her. 

“Watch it, you don’t want to ruin her dress. Hi Felix and Marinette,” Greeted a blonde chasing after the child and pulling her away. After quick cheek kisses, she stood beside Adrien holding the little troublemaker. The perfect little family. A little over five years ago Adrien had been in a tv studio giving some interview about stepping away from the Gabriel brand when he had run into Paris’ favourite weather girl Aurore. After quick polite chit chat about mutual friends or how crazy highschool with all the akumas was, they realised it hadn’t been chit chat but a two hour conversation. The conversation then turned into current events, and by the end of the month they had been dating. Wedding eighteen months after that which had been beyond stunning - partially thanks to Marinette’s designing the outfits for the whole wedding party and the bakery doing the most exquisite cake - and child ten months later. Marinette had met Emilie a few times and even at such a young age it was obvious she was going to have Adrien’s kindness, Aurore’s determination, and both of their beauty. “Sorry about Em. First wedding.”

“Love dedication,” Corrected Felix, glancing down at his watch. “Legally-”

“Don’t get him started. Please, please, don’t,” Laughed Marinette trying to silence Felix. “We better get started though. Talk to you later.”

Marinette and Felix walked into the park, all conversation falling short as eyes fell on them. Later that night they would listen to Alix joke about how love was dumb before comments on how no matter how many times she bunny hops the four of them would always be the best example of love, adorable, beautiful love which nearly made her want it. They would talk to Alya and Nino who would gush about their current jobs in America, Alya’s latest expose on why not all charities are good, and Nino struggling so hard to not reveal the twist in his movie before spoiling the whole movie. They’d laugh with Jagged and Penny as they told stories about their biography or latest up and comer they were mentoring, Luka still after ten years being flustered when speaking to his idol. Mylene and Ivan still going strong ten years later. Nathaniel and Marc kissing on the dancefloor, and later talking about their latest comic idea or how their old comic was about to hit the big screen, with pleas and begging Luka, Felix, Kagami, and Marinette to play themselves. Chloe would come late, leave early, and  say it was ridiculous the latest scandal. Max would talk about his latest game while Kim talked about the olympics. Bustier, Mendeliev, and Damocles would make sappy comments about how they wish they had students like this now, before ranting about their current students. They would meet with Fu in the bakery, him decked out in all the miraculouses so that the kwamis could see their chosen’s perfect day, all crying and smiling. Sure, there were times miraculouses were still worn by the heroes but those times were getting rarer. Plagg would be there too asking Tikki if she wanted to try it out to see what all the fuss was about. 

But that was all later in the night. For now, Marinette and Felix stood at one end of the park under an arch, sunset painting the sky pink and orange. Jagged was playing a classic wedding march, Penny having a hand on his shoulder to stop him getting too out of control, Adrien accompanying him on piano. They turned to see Kagami and Luka walk into the park, the most beautiful sight Marinette had ever seen. Marinette wanted to tell them to walk faster, so they wouldn’t be so far away and she could pledge her undying love. Sure, legally it all meant very little, but she just needed to the world to know how much she loved them. Felix squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him, tears in his eyes that were filled with love as he watched their sweethearts walk down the aisle. 

They each took turns saying their vowels. Hurried, messy vowels, full of classic babblenette moments, as they just could barely wait another moment not being married (or closest they would get to married legally). They just wanted to start their lives officially together. They just hated having to wait. They’re happy ending was insight. And maybe life loved to challenge them, make ant hills seem like mountains, but nothing could stop how miraculous their worlds had become. Just two words left to capture everything they felt: I do 

(credit to @autumnlover13moni8 for the final line)

[mellowgirl01]

🍷 Sweet Wine 🍷

Master List     Pt. 1

❌❌Warning: Death/ funerals/ Gore❌❌

Word count: 3143

Characters: 15440

People: Adam x Y/N x Eve

Made for: @ladyfluff

Tag: @ladyfluff @may-bereblog @jaquellejohnson @mousee555 @littlefrogstuff

Request:No

Date:4/8/19

Summary:

This is may be the end but it’s the beginning of forever

A/N: And this ladies and gents is the ending. Since it was so long I made my final part 2 for such an amazing first serious. I really do hope that more people come in and or stay with me in the long run. I loved this and it was the fist FF that I ended so it really does mean a lot to me from your comments and re-blogs and hearts. Thank you. After this I will be taking requests so don’t be shy and feel free to ask. Even if it’s smut.- xoxo Mellow

Y/N P.O.V

As I looked all around Adam’s office I smiled thinking of the many ways that he met all of his so called heros. Well I guess they are rather, heroes of literature, art, and music. Saving lives one at a time with just their talent and a love for it. Down stairs I could hear Adam play his violin and other many instruments. He had been down ever since Eve moved back to Tangier. We were oth sad when she left of course, but understood. Everything was fine now and she still had her home to take care of. I can still see his face when she left. Sad and a little heartbroken. more than he usually was. It was my tun to take care of him and make sure that he wasn’t in his head all the time. I thought that while I was up here I might as well do some snooping. I figured that he wouldn’t mind since it was me..right?

Looking down to his desk I went to go and open his drawer. To my surprise it was open and not locked. He must have unlocked it once Ava left. Adam was forever a secret, even to me and Eve he was always like a book filled with blank pages that needed a special light to see what was written down in it. But that said light was locked away in a volt down in the ocean. So as annoying as it sounds it was just as annoying trying to talk him out of getting more into the real world. I would take him out with me at night just on some midnight snack runs. It was babysits and for that I was proud of him but I needed to know what he might like so that I can show him that the world may be bad but it’s a lot worse when your the only one sulking in the thought of the world being so barren and dark. So looking through his many journals and books to me was a mandatory. If I wanted him to look forward to the future then I might as well give him a little push in the right direction then let him do the rest.

I skimmed through the pages taking down some notes in a blank notebook that sat on top of the desk and was quick to write them all down just incase he decided to come up and see what kept me. Even through the past week I was reading some of the books he had and listening to the music he favored. He had no reason to wonder what I was doing and I guess thought that It was just my way of connecting with him more. In a way it was but it won't my only reason. Icumbled the notes i took down and placed them on the inside of the leather jacket Adam gave me. Heading down the stairs and grabbing my bag for when I would sleepover. Smiling at him and giving him a kiss on the cheek as I stood ready to go home for the night.

With this he didn’t look to pleased as usual but I cocked my eyebrow to let him know that I just wasn't in the mood for his ‘but you can stay with me talk’. I had work in the morning and needed to rest in the house that I PAYED FOR. Thankfully he stayed quiet all except for a loud grunt while getting up and getting his keys and glasses. Was he never too cool?

As we drove down the road I looked to him and smiled. Probably sensing my stair he looked back at me for a moment before looking back to the road.

“What?”

“Your cute face.”

He chuckled

“I’m everything but cute. Now you~ on the other hand you're adorable.”

“Yeah you're a grouch.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Another chuckle escaped his lips before silence filled the air again. He rolled down the windows a bit since the car did feel a bit warm with the summer weather approaching. He looked so beautiful with the many streetlights that passed by him. Forever beautiful..forever..

It never occured to me until now that I wouldn’t have that with him, or Eve..What the fuck do I do now? They had technically had just gotten me back and soon another version of me would be taking the spot that I was in. The thought hurt me, of them having to start all over again with someone new that might not even love them back. How long would they have to wait? Would they even work out? Would they be beautiful? More than me? No..I have given a Love to them that I know cannot be replaced. The old me was the same way. She was irreplaceable and won’t ever come back again. Now it’s my turn to feel the love that was stolen from her. To feel the love that I deserve. The thing was as I began to think about this Adam started to hum a tune that he loved. The radio was on was was the only light in the car that worked. This! I never wanted this to end. The small moments like these are ones that are highly monday and for everyone else could be easily forgotten but not for me. These moments are mine. Adam and Eve are mine! How in the hell am I gonna keep them? Maybe-

“Alright dove, like you asked. Home.”

“Wha?”

“We're here. What’s wrong you don’t wanna leave now?”

“Ah no it’s not that it’s just. I wanna..never mind goodnight.”

“Y/N, hey wait!”

I heard him calling out my name but I didn’t pay him any mind. I was quick to walk into my apartment and get upstairs. Face planting down on my bed face first I screamed into my pillow. Few minutes went by of me sobbing into my pillow about things I couldn’t change and my phone went off. I wiped my face to look at the screen and I saw that It was Adam saying ‘I’m sorry that I made a fuss about you staying, didn’t mean to make you feel so channed to me I really didn't.” The message continued but I couldn’t bring myself to read what I had done to my poor lover who didn't know what the fuck was going on in my own head! Great! Just fucking fantastic! Not only did I fuck up on trying to get Adam to open up his mind but I made him think that I was shutting him out! I sobbed a little bit more before going to sleep, crying.

That night I had a dream of a huge church and a few of my friends and long lost relatives sitting down in all black. They sat like stachues as roses both white and red scattered on tip of the black slick casket. The pastor of the church patted my shoulder and lead me up to it. Opening it I saw that there was nothing inside, when I turned to look back at the man all their was that looked back at me were eyes of black. My view shifted as He stood over my body lying in the casket. I wanted to scream but couldn’t for some odd reason. My voice stayed stuck in my lungs as he closed it. I felt as though I was falling with no end. With a loud thud I stopped and silence filled the air once more. A little glimmer of light shown in my carddle of death and i got to look at my hands to see that my skin was rotting like some type of dead animals. My nails turning black as I felt my face starting to just fall off as I tried to reach for the pieces of flesh that kept falling off. Only to no avail. The way I smelled was nothing of kindness either. The smell was like a never opened and festering can of shit and piss.

“But she was so beautiful.”

“She’ll be reborn again my starman.”

“But we loved her.”

“Adam?!! EVE?!! I’M NOT GONE!!! WAIT! PLEASE HELP ME!! PLEASEE! I DON’T WANNA DIE!!! PLEASE!!!”

“I know love. Come on.”

I kept on screaming and banging on the coffin head above me as I bugs come crawling into the cracks of the hell room I had been put in. Feasting on my dead flesh and getting into the crevices of the rotten holes that filled my body. Pounding and pounding hard onto the walls of the room I was buried in I heard the dirt splash upon the top of the coffin and make whatever light there was become dim to down me into the deepest and darkest sea of the unknown and unkind darkness. Still I screamed and begged and called out for help until I was finally woken by my next door neighbor who shook me awake. I had never been so happy to see- Sarrah..

Not really getting all that much of a good look on her I realized that she looked just like Sarah!

“Hey, it’s okay! Everything is alright! My god you must have been having the worst dream possible if you could destroy your wall like that.”

I was horrified when I looked to my left to see that in fact I punched two indents into my wall that would now have to be replaced. This was the straw that broke my back and I just started out of nowhere balling. I really wanted to be able to get my deposit for the apartment and now that was gone! Then the dream and the reality of the dream were just too much. My neighbor whose name was Lily comforted me rubbing her hand against my back.

“Jesus love you really must be going through it. What happened? Did that weirdo from last night hurt you?!!! Tell me Y/N-”

I let it slip out…

“Sarrah just stop you wouldn't understand!..I..I um I mean..”

“..How the fuck did you know? Who told you..No your just messing with me Y/N stop playing around like that! I’m serious now Y/N who in the bloody fuck her you?!”

“Adam and Eve..Sarrah..that night I got shot..you were in the room with me. What the fuck happened to you?”

Her face became the word shocked. Her eyes were As wide as the moon and her lips quivered as though she were about to cry, hell she was after a tear fell smoothly down her face and under her chin. She took her hands into mine and I noticed that they were just as dead cold as Adam and Eve’s. Putting my hand to her cheek she started crying instead of me and hugged me tighter than tight. I squealed so that she would let go of me a bit and she understood. Being so excited she pulled me to my feet and started jumping up and down screaming that I had finally remembered. I covered her mouth and sat down with her on my bed and talked with her for a bit. The clock next to my ed side said 5 AM so I only had a few more hours before I had to get ready for work. I talked with her about what happened and she did the same. Her and Bartholomew got married and are traveling one year at a time. She talked about how and where they planned on settling down forever.

“Man..so you have fragments of her memories but your not her at all?”

“Well I can’t say at all because, then I wouldn’t even know anything So I guess i'm similar just not really. We’re still different people period.”

“I see, well now that you’ve found them. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Gonna change. Like how I did?”

“...Well. Yes, I think I-”

“No, now see that’s where you’ve already fucked up on. You have got to know whether your willing to give this all up or not. This is no joke Y/N this is serious. Blood is running low nowadays and there's more and more of us dying off as we speak. You have to be ready to take this life..If not then..Well I don’t know.”

“Teach me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what it’s like to become this, a vampire! Just only for a few weeks, then i’ll decide whether or not I wanna go through with this. PLease Sarrah!! I need to know if this is as serious as you say it is. I want Adam and Eve forever this time.Me and only me not pass me not that girl way back, me.”

Sarah nodded her head in agreement and with a smile she stared right into my eyes.

“Okay, but you have to ask them to change you.”

Within those many months I was living a double life with keeping the secret from Adam and Eve about what I was learning and how I found Sarrah and her lover again. I learned about a lot of basic thing that really wasn't that hard to understand. The reason why it took her so long too was the fact that Sarrah and her husband were always out somewhere in the night and or moonlight having the time of their lives being young forever. When she told me that I Had finally learned everything that I needed to know I felt ready too. This was it, my future that I would be going into. A new season and form that a new me then the one I look at in the mirror. Well internal rather. Getting up and waiting for Adam to come and pick me up I got dressed in something that was a bit more special. Putting on ripped stripped sweater and a long skirt with my favorite and only ankle boots I put my hair in a half bun with the rest of my hair hanging down. I tried to make myself look as cute as possible but also casual so Adam wouldn't get susice. He was a man of detail at times so he knew when something was up. I heard the horn of his car and took a deep breath before leaving my final letter to my old friends and whoever cared about my existence..Today was the day in my mind. It would start here..I left my phone, my clothes, and every single picture that I had took with me and my parents. Sarrah Said that she would vouch for me and that she would tell the landlord what fake story we came up with. Only taking my favorite stuffed animal with me and my camera. I left it all. And left the key on top of the mat and my credit card and the rest of the money I had left on the kitchen island inside..It felt so surreal, But invigorating! Exciting! Only few had ever done this and I was actually happy to say that I was one of them.

For reasons of Love..not selfish desire..just love

Walking into the house of the old victorian,I was scooped up out of nowhere by a pair of pale white and thin arms that were surprisingly strong. I didn't fight since I could already know who it was from just the sent of her coat. Hugging her back like as though I was gonna lose her, I relished in the sent of my Eve. Back in my arms, same and in one whole piece.

“I missed you sweet dove.”

“I missed you more.”

Letting each other go we saw Adam go past us slightly smiling. Going into the living room/ sound room to plop down on the couch. He was happy. I reached up to kiss Eve’s soft lips as she held onto my waist swaying with me.

“When did you get here?”

“Last night. But Adam told me that you were too tired to come over so he didn’t pick you up.”

“But I would have had the energy of a thousand cheetahs if  it was you who I got to see.”

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”

“Best can of that shit that I've ever seen. I don’t even know how in the hell zombies stomached those things.”

“Don’t look at me, I have no clue either.”

We got to catch up while snuggling on the couch and I felt it was the right time for me to ask the big question.No more small talking or backing out now. Once I left the key to my apartment I also left my building’s key with Sarah as her and her hubby were out of town. So their was really no going back now.

“I wanna change..permanently. I want to become like you both.”

The room fell silent with no more laughter, or even barely breathing. Surely not from me either. I looked to both of them and their faces were the same. ‘What the fuck did she just say?’ Their reaction would have made me laugh at any other time but I knew that if I started laughing they would think it’s a joke. Adam for the first time in forever had a smile from ear to ear. As his fangs were out and without an ounce of fear or anything it seemed in his mind. He was completely all for it until Eve slapped his shoulder and raised her eyebrows.

“Eve I know what I’m getting myself into! I met with Sarrah and-”

“Sarrah!!? How in the hell is she still alive?!!”

“Please just let me finish!..My greatest fear for these past few months has been the fact that at some point and at some time I could be taken away again. At least this version of me. And if we really are about change and you both getting to know the new me? I find there no other way then to change me. I love you both and understand the consequences but I just can’t think of anyone else, with you both. Your mine and i’m yours right?..Right?!!”

Eve just looked at Adam and he sighed putting away his fangs.

“Stay here. We need to converse alone about this too.”

“Okay?..”

As they got up I stayed still down stairs. Please, please say yes..Please. I love you…

[bluskai]

pain | l.o.

➤ pairing: loki X female reader

➤ warnings: Swearing, Angst, Pain, Heartache, Maybe make you wanna shoot someone and throw yourself off a cliff?

➤ notes: This is set in Infinity War, so feel the pain bitches. Brace yourself. Feedback is appreciated.

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

Thanos held up his hand to reveal the Infinity Gauntlet, which hosted the beaming, violet-coloured Power Stone.

A visible shiver racked your body, from the cold or fear, you weren’t sure anymore. It was hard to discern much, as your vision got blurrier from the amount of blood loss you were suffering from. 

Thanos was holding Thor by his head, fist tightening around his skull dangerously. Crimson-red blood dripped from the god’s gaping mouth. 

Yet, Thor managed to spit out a few snarky words, “You talk too much.”

Thanos barely acknowledged him and turned to Loki, "The Tesseract, or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference.”

You gasped, but quickly placed a hand over your mouth, you were not in good shape to fight. So the best option was to draw as little attention to yourself as possible, at least until you thought of a plan to help the brothers. Shifting backwards, you dragged yourself further into the shadows.

The Black Order gripped their weapons and glanced at each other, faces carrying disgusting smirks.

Loki smirked, gesturing to Thor, “ Oh, I do. Kill away!”

You worried for a moment that Loki was serious, but you remembered that this was Loki, despite everything, he loved Thor. 

Also, it was Loki, your Loki, the love and light of your life. He had pulled you from the brink of self-destruction, and you would forever love him for that. He wasn’t as selfish as he liked to let on.

Thanos looked briefly surprised at Loki’s words, before he pressed the gauntlet to Thor's left temple. The Power Stone glowed brightly as Thor’s hoarse screams of anguish and pain filled the ship.

Loki’s facade cracked, his cool demeanour falling at watching Thor suffer. 

“ALL RIGHT, STOP!” Loki shouted, agony written plain and clear across his features.

Thor gasped out, “We don't have the Tesseract. It was destroyed on Asgard.”

Loki glanced at Thor, a look of guilt and regret plaguing his face. Like he knew something Thor didn't. Lifting his right hand into the air, Loki produced the Tesseract.

You gripped onto your wound tighter, preventing yourself from crying out from surprise, pain and worry. 

Thor heaved against his wounds, “You really are the worst brother.”

Loki moved toward Thanos, Tesseract in hand. The blue light glowing against his sharp features, you slowly inched forward, worrying about your dumb and impulsive god of a boyfriend.

Looking back at Thor, Loki had the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, “I assure you, brother... The sun will shine on us again.”

Thanos spoke, sharpness lacing his words, “Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian.”

Loki tipped his head, speaking out, “ Well, for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another... We have a Hulk.”

Thanos looked to his right, just as a green and furious mass slammed into him. Loki dived for Thor, pulling both of them out of the way and you sighed with relief but remained on edge. The Tesseract skittered across the floor, momentarily forgotten. 

The Hulk charged at Thanos, growling and roaring with resentment. He pummelled into Thanos, forcing him backwards and shoving him into the wall of the ship. You wished that the Hulk would emerge victorious, but then you noticed Thanos’ right-hand man.

Ebony Maw grinned, and stopped Black Dwarf from interfering.

"Let him have his fun.”

Then you held your breath.

Thanos pried the Hulk's hands away with ease, and an expression of surprise and fear flittered across the Hulk’s face. After several hard blows, Thanos picked up the Hulk and slammed him into the deck, green and defeated. Just then, Thor slammed a metal bar across Thanos' back. But to no avail, he was kicked across the deck by Thanos and promptly bound in metal debris by Ebony Maw to keep him from interfering further.

Just several feet away, you noticed the severely injured Heimdall cast you a glance, as if reassuring you.

Praying, Heimdall said, “Allfathers… Let the dark magic flow through me one last... time.”

Heimdall summoned the Bifrost, spiriting the Hulk away. He threw you one more apologetic look, as if to say sorry for not being able to send you away as well. But you knew there was only a chance, and it could only be the Hulk. 

Heimdall met Thor’s gaze, an unreadable expression on his face.

Thanos gritted his teeth, “That was a mistake.”

Thanos grabbed Corvus's glaive and drove it into Heimdall, right through his heart, twisting the blade.

You screamed out Heimdall’s name, forgetting your cover. But it was irrelevant anyway. None of them paid you any mind. 

Thor cried out, “NO! You're going to die for that!”

Ebony Maw shut Thor's mouth with his telekinesis, grinning evilly, “Shhh...”

Ebony Maw kneeled before Thanos, offering up the Tesseract, “My humble personage… bows before your grandeur. No other being has ever had the might, nay the nobility, to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones. The universe lies within your grasp.”

You struggled to pull yourself to Heimdall, if you could touch him, maybe you could heal him. After all, that was the reason Fury had recruited you.

Thanos crushed the Tesseract, revealing the luminescent, blue Space Stone. He blew on it, blowing some of the fractals away, holding the Stone between his thumb and index, before placing it on the gauntlet, and was momentarily rocked by the surge of energy that pulsed through him.

Then he said, “There are two more Stones on Earth. Find them, my children, and bring them to me on Titan.”

Proxima Midnight knelt before him, “Father, we will not fail you.”

Loki suddenly emerged from behind the Black Order, and a wave of irritation rolled through you. What the hell was he doing?

“If I might interject… If you're going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that arena.” Lokie said cheerfully. 

Your jaw dropped, you couldn’t believe he was actually going to betray you.

Thanos looked unimpressed, “If you consider failure experience.”

Loki spoke and in his eyes, you saw a glimmer of something, “I consider experience, experience. Almighty Thanos, I... Loki... Prince of Asgard...” Loki paused, looking at Thor, “Odinson... The rightful King of Jotunheim... God of Mischief... do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.”

A surge of pride filled you as Loki finally acknowledged his heritage without shame or hesitation. It took a lot for him to finally get here, and you were beyond proud of him. But then reality set in.

Thor squinted at Loki’s hand, and you noticed a dagger materialize in his hand. Loki braced himself, and thrusted upwards with lightning speed in an attempt to stab Thanos, but was frozen in place by the Space Stone's power before the point could strike home.

Your toes started aching and the ache spread to the tips of your fingers, it was becoming unbearable and though you refused to admit it, something bad was going to happen.

Thanos smirked, “Undying. You should choose your words more carefully.”

Thanos twisted the dagger out of Loki's hand, taking a hold of Loki's neck with the gauntlet and lifted him to eye level. Loki struggled, kicking, as his throat was being squeezed. Thanos made eye contact with Thor before he finished the deed.

You felt a scream building up in your throat as you tried to pull yourself to your feet. The pain from your wounds was near intolerable, but you needed to save him. But you just weren’t moving fast enough.

Loki looked at you briefly, conveying a million emotions in that brief second. The most important, was that he loved you. He was sorry, sorry for doing this and every other horrible thing he had ever done. He was sorry for being unable to save you. He was sorry for not being a better person for you. But you didn’t need his apologies, you just needed him. 

Then as you saw him give up on fighting against Thanos, you felt that last bit of yourself... leave you. 

“You will... never be... a god.” Loki croaked, as Thanos crushed Loki's neck, killing him.

Your scream was ear-splitting and the pain you felt was comparable to being burned alive a thousand times over. He was your whole reason for living at one point, and he gave you more to live for now. So you could kill Thanos yourself. Loki wasn’t all good, but really, who was? He was mischief, love and chaos, and you adored him for it. Now Loki was gone, blood pouring from every part of his face. His skin was turning purple and the life in his eyes was gone.

Thanos didn’t even look your way, and walked over to Thor, dropping Loki's body in front of him. 

“No resurrections this time.”

Thanos raised the gauntlet, sending violet-coloured Power fire through the remains of the Statesman, and used the Space Stone to teleport away with the Black Order.

Thor cried, “No… Loki…”

Thor was finally released from his bonds, and he crawled over to Loki's body and laid his head down on Loki's chest, shedding tears for all that he had lost. 

You dragged yourself over, hugging Thor tightly as you shed tears of your own.

Thor weeped, looking up at you.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Then, as more tears trickled from your eyes, your body sagged with the realisation that this is the end. The end of life as you know it, and of consciousness as you are aware of. In that day, you had lost more than you ever thought you were capable of handling. 

Hugging Thor over Loki’s body, you allowed yourself a moment to dream. A dream so sweet, your mouth filled with syrup, sticky and warm. Instead of an iron taste, hot and fluid. It was a dream where you had time, and love. 

But as the heat of the ship increased, and your skin prickled with pain, you knew that that was all it would ever be, a dream. Crumbling around you, metal against metal, scraping and falling pieces. The ship exploded, along with your dreams.

Then all you felt was pain. Then nothing.