#grief just never. hit me this much this quickly before

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

+18 minors do not interact. hurt/comfort, nursing wounds, blood, physical pain, emotional pain, very slow healing, mutant cure, kissing, cuddling, mentions of sex, happy marriage, fluffy ending etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @bunnysrph 💌

“Oh no no no!!” You sobbed slapping your husbands cheek gently to wake him up. You found him passed out, third time this week. His dress shirt drenched in blood, bullet holes decorating the front making you cry hard. Tears staining your cheeks as you quickly rushed to the bathroom for first aid kit and to pull out the harming bullets. “Please.. please..” you sniffled ripping the front of his shirt buttons scattering all over the place. Grabbing your medical pliers you didn’t hesitate to dive inside the bullet holes in his chest, pulling one after one out. You cleaned the blood in process, the fresh one which pooled out of his wounds. You couldn’t stop crying— your heart held so much pain and grief. “You can’t die on me.. not like this. God I love you so much please don’t..” you slapped his cheek gentle to possibly wake him but he wouldn’t. The healing of his wounds were so slow.. even slower than a week ago. You did this few times.. he woke up right after but now he wouldn’t. You cried against his shoulder gently removing his ruined dress shirt. You washed his chest gently with a warm damp cloth, his face too, his hands. You kissed his knuckles where his claws would come out but now he was only laying on your bed. “Lo.. please..” you sighed with pain climbing on the bed right next to him snuggling to his side. “I know your body aches, I know but just.. come back to me. I will take care of you” you sobbed kissing his bearded cheek caressing his chest where his heart supposed to beat wildly by now but it didn’t. Another wave of pain hit you. “Please..!” You cried even harder.

The faint heartbeat returned, you knew that he lived. He was just too tired, in too much pain to wake up, he needed rest. So much of rest. Although.. he swore that he would never take the mutant cure you feared that it was the answer to your prayers at the moment. Opening the drawer on your bedside table you pulled out the cure. You could use only a little bit to heal him, only a tiny bit. Lo hated that you’ve spend so much money on it, nearly your whole pay check because you wanted to heal him. He’d rather suffer and get through it alone than to use the cure. You cried desperately waiting another moment before gently injecting a tiny bit of the cure in his vein. You watched his wounds heal away like magic, his heartbeat getting stronger. His breathing returning back to normal, you thanked god silently in between sobs. Putting away the cure you hugged him close to you pulling the covers over your bodies resting your cheek on his naked chest. You had no strength to move, you wanted to be close to your husband. You felt his arms coil around you and you closed your eyes crying with happiness. Tears streaming down your cheeks you let out a huff. “Shhh..” Lo whispered to you holding his eyes closed feeling healed, his body feeling like new and all thanks to you. “I’m so sorry kid..” he breathed out kissing your forehead. “I’m fucking sorry for giving you so much pain.” He sighed running his big calloused hand over your back. “Don’t say that.. I want all of your worries, all of the pain, I want to take it all away I’m your wife” you cried looking up at him still resting your cheek on his chest. “I can’t give it to you kid.. only my love” you closed your eyes at his words with a broken whimper. His thumb wiping away your tears “Thank you..” he added kissing your forehead again. “Shhh..baby” you climbed on top of him burying your face in his neck.

A faint smile appeared on his face, he held you close to him. Even closer than before “I can’t lose you, I can’t leave you Lo..” you whispered your chest hurting immensely at the thought of losing him. “You won’t. I’m still here..” he added reassuring you. “C’here kid.. kiss me” he breathed before he captured your mouth in a loving kiss. You kissed him more urgently to be sure he’s healed and that he’s there with you this wasn’t a dream. “My love” you let out a soft moan wrapping your arms around his neck and he hummed at the closeness. Your legs nearly curled around his waist “you tiny monkey, you won’t let me go will you now?” You shook your head resting your cheek to his. “I love you..” he smiled snuggling you close. Your core was pressing to his growing bulge “S’not this old man’s fault- you’re clingin’ and tellin’ me you love me” he let out a chuckle “and rubbin yourself on me.. fuck” you giggled at his words loving that he was back. “I’ll take care of you my love” you blushed kissing his lips. Lo’s kiss was needier than yours this time. All that crying and sobbing was quickly exchanged for moans and whimpers, he used that extra energy to love on you.

-

[grandline-fics]

Hi there! I hope u are doing well, can I request a strawhats crew reaction to a reader who can see ghosts or souls? It can be like their devil fruit power or just something that they're born with. It can be a short fic with all the strawhats or if it's too much it can just be the monster trio, i don't mind either way, do what you prefer! Thanks for letting me request!

DESCRIPTION:  You can see ghosts and spirits

WARNINGS: don’t think it’s too angsty but does mention dead characters. Luffy's is set just before a canon event.

CHARACTERS: Sanji, Zoro, Luffy

WORDS: 1,672

A/N:  Thank you for this request. For some reason I struggled a lot with how I wanted this to go and I hope you're happy with this outcome.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

You didn’t really know the rhyme or reason for your gift. It was just always something you had and having grown up being able to see and speak with spirits you’d never felt the need to investigate it. Besides even if you were to learn the reason for your unique talent, it wasn’t like you were ever going to seek out a way to get rid of it. As far as you were concerned it was a part of you and it brought comfort to a lot of people once they got over their shock and in some cases heavy skepticism that you were playing a cruel prank on them. 

When you first set foot on the Thousand Sunny you had to suppress the shiver that ran up your spine as you were hit with an intense feeling that those on the crew were connected to a lost one and the weight of their grief was still heavy on their shoulders even if they didn’t realise it themselves. So you decided to keep your ability to yourself for now and help when the occasion to do so arose. As you set yourself up in your quarters you smiled softly, seeing that you truly were brought onto the crew for a reason. Idly you wondered who in the crew would be the first you would help.

SANJI

Sanji turned out to be the first. You entered the kitchen and smiled in greeting to the ship’s cook only your gaze to drift behind his shoulder. Your smile fell slightly and you stepped further into the room, peering at Sanji with intent concern. “What’s wrong?” You asked, taking the chef by surprise as his own smile faltered. 

“Nothing, now that you’re here.” He insisted, adopting his charming smile once more  but you firmly shook your head, refusing to be convinced by his outward demeanour. Sanji became nervous and let his gaze fall away from you stare, finding it easier to maintain his pretence. Quickly he turned back to his chopping board and continued to prepare food for the evening meal. “What on earth would make you think something was wrong?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level. 

“Your mother only ever shows this clearly when you’re deeply upset about something.” Your voice was soft but it was enough to make Sanji drop his knife against the block with a dull thud. He felt like laughing at the ludicrous statement at the same time he felt like shouting at you for the weird joke. Yet he couldn’t do either. You didn’t know anything about him or his family and he knew it wasn’t in you to say something so heartless. Thankfully he didn’t need to demand you explain yourself because you proved your honesty immediately. “You have her eyes and smile, kind and comforting. She worries when you get like this, hiding how you truly feel.”

Sanji looked over his shoulder to see you smiling fondly at something or rather someone beside him. Desperately he wished he could see what you saw, to see her again but if this was as close as he could get then he would take it a hundred times over. “I don’t want anyone to worry, least of all her.” 

“Sanji we all have bad days and hiding that from the people we care about isn’t the way to do it.” You told him, finally looking at his face again, reaching out to lightly push some of the hair from his eyes. “We have emotions for a reason and no-one expects you to suppress them. I’m always here to listen, okay?” You weren’t surprised to be brought into a tight hug by Sanji and returned the embrace, letting him hold you for as long as he needed.

ZORO

It took some time for you to finally see the spirit attached to Zoro’s heart with enough clarity to take in her appearance and hear her. It didn’t surprise you that this one took longer, Zoro’s personality never came across as being someone who clung to the past and let it cloud his vision but on a day like this it was clear even Zoro wasn’t invulnerable to the deepest of connections that you could now see had been cut far too soon. 

You’d wandered up to the Crow’s Nest to both take a break from the chaotic noise of Luffy, Franky, Chopper and Usopp and also settle in for your evening watch. This wasn’t anything new so Zoro only gave you a brief glance in greeting before going back to training against one of the reinforced training dummies Franky had made to withstand his attacks enough for a worthwhile practice. However he wasn’t moving the way he wanted, something was wrong with his movements. “You’re forgetting the fundamentals.” 

Your voice came from the seating and Zoro looked over his shoulder to see you were casually leaning against the edge, looking out at the ocean. He cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow at you. You weren’t even watching him, how would you know what he was apparently doing wrong? As if feeling his stare, you turned your head to look at him. “You’re getting too stuck in your head, just take a breath and keep it simple.” 

Zoro had to scoff at the advice. Yes, you were a fighter but not a swordsman so to be told what was wrong stung his ego slightly. It’d be like if he tried to tell Franky how to fix the ship. You seemed to read the offence on his face and it surprised him to see you laugh and hold up your hands lightly in defence. “That’s not coming from me, it’s coming from Kuina.”

Kuina? Now Zoro found himself glaring and tensing out of a fear of his private life being pried into. Where had you heard that name? Who told you about her? Not that he confided in many about his childhood friend. You sighed sadly and got to your feet. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen this kind of reaction and it wasn’t surprising that Zoro fell back onto the defensive and become distrustful. You stopped in front of the swordsman and glanced briefly at the spirit at his side.

“She’s happy to see you’ve come so far but your name hasn’t quite reached the heavens yet. You still have a long way to go and she believes in you.” You smiled and lightly punched Zoro’s arm when you saw the belief and shock appear in his no longer skeptical gaze. “Keep getting stronger but don’t forget her father’s teachings okay?”

“I won’t let her down. I made a promise.” Zoro affirmed strongly and you grinned, turning to go back to your seat when he quickly caught your arm, surprising you. You turned and looked at him questioningly. “If she’s still here do you…do you think you can help me speak to her?” 

LUFFY

It wasn’t much of a surprise to you that Luffy was the one to seek you out. He’d caught some talk from the crew about the things you just seemed to know things about their past or about someone they knew that had passed away. His suspicions were confirmed when you’d all stopped on an island for supplies and you’d helped a grieving family in a way no-one else could. You’d managed to ease their pain and reassure them that their loved one was still with them and had no regrets. When you were back on the Sunny he appeared beside you on the railings, grinning widely and already bouncing with excitement. “You see ghosts right?”

“Yeah, I see them. Not at will though.” You clarified, with Luffy being well Luffy you didn’t want to disappoint him by making him think that what you could was as easily controlled as a Devil Fruit ability which this was not. Still though your statement didn’t deflate him, if anything he only got more excited and he leaned in closer and set his hands on your shoulders. 

“What about me? Is someone with me?” Despite how excited he was you could sense a faint desperation coming from Luffy and you wanted to be able to help but as you’d already told him this wasn’t something that you could manipulate and command freely whenever you wanted. You looked at Luffy carefully and then around him in search of a presence connected to him. Suddenly you felt a warmth and made out the outline of a man standing behind your Captain and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Ace.” You felt like you were saying it in greeting. You’d known about Luffy’s brother but never had the pleasure of actually getting to meet him. It was almost eerie how both Luffy and Ace grinned so happily and in sync but it was also so infectious. Luffy seemed pleased but then seemed to be eager for more. 

“Is it just Ace? Is anyone else with him? Maybe younger?” He asked and you slowly shook your head with a small frown. 

“Sorry Luffy, just Ace.” You said, disappointed that you couldn’t give Luffy what he wanted and seeing him sigh slightly and lower his gaze briefly made you feel guilty even though you knew it wasn’t your fault. Still though you couldn’t help but look to Ace, silently pleading for assistance on his part. However the brother only smirked knowingly and you began to suspect that Ace knew something you and Luffy didn’t. Thankfully that was all you needed to cheer Luffy up. “Just because I don’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not with you though Luffy. Maybe next time whoever it is you’re thinking about will be there instead?” 

“Yeah you’re right!” Luffy grinned while leaping up onto the railing, his previous excited energy returning instantly. Before you could speak any more, Law’s voice called for Luffy wanting to go over the plan for when you all would be reaching Dressrosa in just a couple days time. 

[alwaysthefool]

Lie To Me (MC/Reader x Sylus)

Tags; Angst to comfort, MC is OOC. Discourse under my post = BLOCK.

Warnings; self doubt, you are sad

You were gazing off into the distance when he asked you to train with him. “Huh?” You didn’t meet his eyes, nodding and getting up before muttering an ‘okay’, walking over to the boxing ring with your head down. It was ordinary for you to be a bit dazed and lost, but this time, there was an obvious grief etched across your face.

You knew he was dying to ask you what was wrong as you wrapped your fists with sports tape, but you also knew he knew you wouldn’t give him a clear response. You stepped into the ring, finally looking up at him, flashing him a polite smile before raising your fists.

“Wrong posture.” He stared deep into your eyes, his expression as much a mystery as yours.

No, it’s not a mystery. The voice in the back of your mind spoke. He’s concerned. Truly, genuinely, concerned. But the logical part of your mind denied it.

You didn’t speak to him for what felt like minutes, until you broke away from his gaze with an ‘Oh’, looking down at your posture. “Uh, what am I doing wrong?”

He didn’t take the opportunity to touch you and fix your posture himself this time, and that made you even sadder. “You need to stand up straighter.” Was he mad at you? But why did it matter if he was mad at you? You were nothing to him, right? He just wanted to resonate with you for power. There was nothing more to it. You were the one foolishly falling for someone so extremely out of your reach.

“Right, sorry.” You stood up straighter, looking up at his face now, your arms almost mechanically in the correct position. He probably noticed you being uptight but ignored.

You flung an uninterested but quick punch when Sylus got into his fighting stance, evoking a smirk out of him as he struggled to deflect it. You’ve always been fast. It’s something you caught from training with Xavier. Maybe it was your constitution, but you weren’t half as strong as him, earning you more than your fair share of teasing from everyone around you. But Sylus was different. He’d never tease you, only push you to do better.

So you did, throwing punches and kicks he struggled to deflect as he moved backward. “You’re pulling your punches.” He noticed.

You stopped, looking up at him. “We’re just training. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed. “Sweetie, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” On hearing that nickname he called you, your eyes sparkled, but you looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see the hope in your face when he called you that.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” You replied, not meeting his gaze that was surely boring into you, always trying to figure out what was on your mind.

“What makes you so sure?” He lifted your chin to make you look up at him, his expression serious and stern. You could tell he was trying to appear rougher, but he always treated you like a precious and fragile treasure, probably because of the aether core. That’s all he wanted, right? He couldn’t let your precious heart be hurt.

“Then hit me.” You challenged. “I won’t pull my punches if you won’t.”

Sylus looked a little taken aback by your words, his expression turning concerned again as he seemed at a loss for words. After a while, his irritatingly confident smirk returned as he leaned in closer to you. “Careful what you ask for.”

You pulled away immediately as he got closer, resentment bubbling inside you. Why was he playing at your heart’s strings like that?

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. Come at me.”

He smiled, as if to say ‘as you wish, sweetie’, turning to you at a speed you couldn’t match. You dodged his first lunge, but at the second, he held both your hands and tackled you, pinning you down on the ground, one hand behind your head to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt as you hit the ground, the other holding your wrists above your head. You tried to use your legs but he held your thighs down with one knee, and you felt like your heart would explode from your chest.

“You okay?” He asked. You wanted to scream ‘No’, that he hurt you in a way that didn’t show except in the beats of your heart or the colour of your cheeks, but you gulped and nodded.

You tried pulling away, but he didn’t let go. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” As if sensing the burning question in your mind, he asked gently.

You didn’t reply, looking away from him. His hand that was behind your head forced you to face his sweet eyes etched with concern. “Please. I can’t see you this way.”

“What way?” You spoke with a bite in your voice, cursing yourself for sounding rude. He didn’t mind. It was almost as if he was used to it.

“You’re angry with me.”

You pouted and looked away again. “Let me go now, I’m serious.”

He didn’t. “You know it kills me when you’re angry at me and you don’t tell me why, right?”

“Can’t you guess?” You faced him, tears prickling your eyes. As soon as he noticed, he released you, helping you sit up against the boxing ring ropes. “Sweetie.” That word again. His gentle and concerned eyes again. His rough hands cradling your face again.

Stop it. Stop pretending you care.

“What?” He replied softly. Shit, you said that out loud. “I…”

Tears fell out of your eyes like tiny dew drops, your face reddening as you hugged your knees, embarrassed and hurt. But you couldn’t tell he was hurt too. He didn’t wipe away your tears, just stroked your hair.

“Come here.” He spoke as he switched positions with you, leaning against the ropes with you on his lap, knees on either side of him. It was a bit intimate to be in a position like that with someone you had nothing to do with romantically, which made you feel even worse.

“Sylus, I can’t take it when you hold me like this.” You blurted, now sobbing. You couldn’t look at his face, but his hand was wrapped around your waist. You wanted him to pull you close, but at the same time, that was the last thing you needed. “We’re nothing, and god, this is embarrassing, but I… I don’t know why you do this to me. Don’t ask me what, you know what it is, and my heart is too fragile to take so much toying. I’m tired. I know you need me to get stronger or whatever, but I wish you’d leave me alone once and for all.”

He stayed silent and still, but then he pulled you into his chest, making you sob even harder. “I told you, I’ll leave your sight if you want me to.”

You held on to him tighter. You didn’t want him to leave. He wasn’t getting what you meant. He was older than you, he should know better. He should-

“But don’t you for a second think I’m toying with you.” He spoke with ferocity you had never heard from him before. He tried pulling you away but you grabbed on to him like a cat refusing to let go. “Well, that’s the strength I was looking for.” He joked.

So he held you as tight too, burying his face in your neck, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not using you for anything. How could you even think that? I just want you.”

“Why?” At that point it was easier to believe he was using you. Why would he like you? It didn’t make any sense. Why would someone you met so recently treat you like that? Unless-

“Because I just do. I love your voice, I love holding you, I love your face, and I… just absolutely love your body.”

“Sylus!” You smacked him on his shoulder lightly, finally pulling away to look at him, his face tired and hurt as he forced a smile for you, eyes glassy. Was he about to cry too?

“What’s…” You wiped the tears of your own face, holding his as he looked up at you in a look that could only be described as reverence. He wasn’t joking about anything.

“It kills me to have made you cry, you know, sweetie?” He held your waist closely. “I… I never intended for that. You’re so sweet, you could never—” He seemed to be talking about something you shouldn’t know but trailed off as he realised. “I just mean, if you would have me, I would never want to let you go. I would never make you feel this way again.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. He held your hand and brought it close to his face, nuzzling it. You almost wanted to apologise for thinking that way of him.

“Can we move on and pretend I did not cry in your arms today?” You spoke, embarrassed.

He chuckled, placing your hand on his erratically beating chest. “If that’s what you want, but I hope you know, what I feel for you… that will never change.”

——x——

Feel free to request

[spxllcxstxr]

Protected • R.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi!! Can I request a angst/fluff with robb stark & the prompt: I’m going to protect you. Thank you so much :))) — anon

Summary: The aftermath of Ned Stark’s death

Warnings: canon character death sprinkled with a wee bit of canon divergence?, grieving, reader wears a dress and is referred to as wife (no pronouns used)

Word Count: 769 (i'm so sorry for the short length lmao)

A.N: first time writing Robb! i actually really like this ngl, hope you enjoy!

•

“That boy is going to ruin his sword.” Lady Catelyn mutters from beside you, her eyes trained on her eldest son on the edge of the tree line. Her hands fidget with the end of her braid.

Your own eyes gaze out to see your betrothed, hacking away at a tree stump, his grunts echoing throughout the silent camp.

News of Ned Stark’s horrid death spread through the camp quickly only hours prior, and the men had hid in their tents to mourn the Lord of Winterfell. It was a gloomy day, appropriately reflecting the mood of the solemn North. The clouds were heavy and grey, the air still smelling of the earlier rain.

Sighing, you watch Robb hit anything within arms reach. His moves are erratic, it's obvious even from this distance. Your teeth tease your bottom lip uneasily.

“I should go to him…” Lady Catelyn sighs, her lips tilted down into a frown.

Your hand rests on her shoulder, stopping the older woman from moving. “My Lady, you just lost your husband…go grieve. I will talk to Robb.”

Lady Catelyn nods, her eyes vacant as she turns towards her own tent. You watch her leave, making sure she gets to her destination safely before trudging through the mud to your betrothed.

The mud clings to your nice shoes, and at this point you don’t bother hiking your skirts up to avoid the filth below you. Your eyes stay trained on Robb, his forceful movement never ceasing.

A few feet away from him, you hear his grunts of anguish and frustration, his tunic dotted with sweat. You let his take one more swing at the rotting stump before you cough to gain his attention.

“Robb, I think that is enough…”

Robb freezes before slowly turning to face you. His auburn curls untamed and his blue eyes burning brighter with rage. You’ve never seen him like this at all, not when he first heard his father was taken prisoner in King’s Landing, nor when he discovered that someone had sent assassins to kill Bran. Your eyes widen at the state of your betrothed, fidgeting in place. He pants heavily as he looks at you.

“I’ll kill them! I swear to every god out there, I will kill the Lannisters for what they have done!” Robb seethes, his face red with anger. “It is only what those murderous pricks deserve.”

He flings his sword down, taking deep ragged breaths. You don’t flinch at his uncharacteristic anger, instead you inch closer to your betrothed.

All at once, as if the adrenaline drains out of him, Robb falls to his knees, his blue eyes trained on the mud beneath your feet as they glimmer with tears.

You drop down with him, taking his head in your hands, leaning your forehead against your lover’s.

“Oh darling…” You whisper, watching the grief take over his features. Your heart breaks seeing him so vulnerable.

“My father is dead,” He sobs, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “They have to pay for what they have done.”

“They will, Robb, they will suffer for their cruelty towards the North," You tell him softly, lifting your head to place a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Robb glances up as well, his tears subsiding. “And I will protect you, my dearest. No Lannister will ever harm you,” There is a quick burst of fire behind those usually cool eyes. “they would not dare.”

“Robb—“ Your fingertips brush over his stubble.

“They have taken my sisters hostage and they have killed my father, but they will not take my wife from me.”

Heat creeps up your neck at his passionate words. You and Robb had not yet been wed but hearing his call you his wife causes you to shiver.

“I swear it to you, my love,” Robb continues, taking your hands in his rough hands, squeezing them tightly between your two closely crouched bodies. “They will not touch you.”

“I believe you, darling, I do.” You reply lightly, squeezing back, attempting to convey how much trust and love you’re filled with for him.

The sky seems to lighten, clouds parting ever so slightly to let the sun peek through enough to shine down on your camp. The moist air of the Riverlands clings onto your skin as the few rays of sun beats down on your exposed skin making your position unbearable.

Wordlessly, you and Robb rise, chins up despite the situation that just occurred. Your hands hold onto his arm as the two of you, side by side, walk back into the center of camp, ready for war.

•

[sapphicmsmarvel]

acotar x reader: one day at a time

Tw for death: 

Reader loses somebody and their friends are there to pick up the pieces. A lil sprinkle sprinkle of az x reader bc that's MY BABYYYY

Lotsssssss of acts of service within the group. 

Also bc im a petty asshole i included a snippet of one of my racist aunts who said some wild shit to me at MY SISTERS FUNERAL and just basically dissing her. (literally why would you stare at my poc best friend who's just trying to support me. This bitch stared at MY GIRL?? MY BESTIE???? NUH UH NOT ON MY WATCH BITCH). 

Said best friend was just like “she’s never seen a brown person before marie it's fine.” 

NO ITS NOT. IDC IF THIS IS MY SISTERS FUNERAL WE’LL MAKE IT A DOUBLE FUNERAL. 

I'm petty. 

soooo this is born out of grief for my sister. My sister passed away on 03/11/21 and this is very much catered to my grief and these are my comfort characters so naturally i'm gonna write about them when it comes to helping their loved one grieve. 

and yeah this is gonna be based around the reader's sister dying. what can i say. I'm on brand. 

also reader is feyres childhood friend that got turned into a fae with nesta and elain. i feel like that’s just the staple with my fics. 

---------

When you got notified of your sister's death, it was actually a pretty good day up until that point. Sunny day with clouds, a wonderful brunch date with Mor, adorable children at the studio with Feyre. Afterwards, the two of you began walking back to Feyre’s, content on playing with Nyx for the evening before retiring to your own home. When you walked up, Feyre looked at you and told you about how the Inner Circle were having a meeting inside the office. So you two quickly joined them. 

When you walked in, Rhysand held out a letter, “this was a letter delivered to you.” 

You made a face and grabbed it, “okay, so why are you all staring at me like that?” 

“This person walked into the Spring Court and dropped it on Tamlins doorstep.” Cassian said. “They dropped it in the middle of night, just when he wasn’t prowling like a creep.” 

“What the fuck?” You asked as you analyzed it. 

No name but yours and a pisspoor address. 

Lady Y/N L/N

Night Court

“We didn’t know if it was a…” Azriel trailed off, realizing how silly what he was about to say was. “Hence, why all of us are here.”

“We’re also just nosey.” Mor shrugged, her nose wrinkling. 

You snorted, and tore into it, “you could’ve opened it.” 

“It’s your mail. We may be protective bastards but you still have a right to privacy.” Rhysand drawled. 

Feyre stood next to you as you pulled out the paper, your eyes tracing over it. 

“It’s from my dad.” You said recognizing his handwriting. 

Then, it all went to shit. 

Your big sister was dead, the woman you fought with a lot of the time but yet would take a beating for. Your big sister who helped guide you through life, who would always be there even if she was pissed off at you for some inane reason.

Gone.

You just froze, not knowing what to do. You’re pretty sure Az asked you a question, then Cass, then Rhys. Then you felt Feyre’s hand on your shoulder. 

I need to leave. 

I need to go before I hurt someone. 

You just wordlessly handed the letter to her and winnowed away. 

You didn’t go to your apartment, you didn’t go to the townehouse, you didn’t go anywhere they would find you. 

You went to the middle of the forest. You just picked a random point to lose it.

And you did. 

You didn’t remember much of causing the damage. Only that you managed to stop when Azriel’s arms wrapped around you. You just kept screaming. “I know, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said, his lips against your hair. 

His shadows wrapped around your hands, cool wind kissing away the raging inferno of your cuts. You collapsed, taking Azriel to the ground. 

He just held you as you sobbed. You felt his own tears hit your neck. He usually did a better job masking his emotions, but it was you crying, you who he had a deeper bond with. So he let his emotions run free.

“Y/N!” Feyre called into your mind. Your shields were down and you didn’t even notice.

“Az has me, i’m sorry I-” 

“Don’t apologize. I would’ve done worse if I found out…” Her voice trailed off. 

“I’m sorry I ran off.” 

“Do not apologize.” She said sternly, “After you and Az are done come back to the River House. You can sleep at our house tonight. Guest bed is currently being made up.” 

She left your mind before you could respond. You breathed in the smell of Az. 

Azriel brought you back to Feyre and Rhysand’s home. Rhys had trouble with touch, but never with you. He brought you into his arms instantly. You tried not to let the tears surface again, but it was quite hard when a brotherly kiss was pressed against your head. 

“We got you, Y/N.” He whispered against the crown of your head.

Nuala and Cerridwen made you your favorite food. Which prompted you to start crying again. The twins looked so panicked that it almost made you laugh. Elain made your favorite cookies, which again kept the tears going.

“I don’t know why I’m crying over this.” You said helplessly, you managed to laugh during that. 

Feyre and Elain hugged you from both sides. 

You retired to the guest bedroom, you found a pile of fluffy blankets and your favorite candy. As well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers with Mor’s handwriting scrawled on the note. Amren left you a bottle of your favorite wine too. 

Eventually, after some more tears, there was a knock at your door. You called out for them to come in but saw Nyx. 

The little guy was walking even more, speaking full sentences. It’s insane to you that he grew so fast but it has been 5 years since he was born. 

“Go on like we practiced.” You heard Feyre encourage from behind the door frame. 

“Hi, Auntie.” The little guy mumbled. Holding a glass of water. “I have something for you.” 

“Yeah buddy?” You smiled despite the shitty day. Your nephew made everything better. 

Rhysand walked in behind him, as did Feyre. Rhysand lifted him up onto the bed while Feyre handed you a cup of hot chocolate. 

You were just glad Nyx wasn’t holding the hot drink. 

“Here’s some wata.” He said, his small hands handing you the glass. 

“Oh thank you.” You said earnestly and took a sip. You set it on the table. Then you laid back down and faced him. “Just what I needed.” You were genuine. 

“Auntie, are you sad?” Both Feyre and Rhys froze at their sons question. Clearly, he was going off script. 

You sniffed, “yeah, Nyxie. I’m really sad.” 

“I love you.” His eyes were so big, so genuine. You were going to cry for a whole new reason. 

“I love you more.” 

“Nuh uh.” He said, as a typical toddler wanting to argue no matter what. 

You huffed a laugh and opened your arms. “Come here.” 

He crawled into your arms with no hesitation. You were careful of his little baby wings as you held him close to you. 

You loved this kid. 

Feyre settled in behind you on the bed, Rhysand joined on the other side with his son. 

They held you as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, hoping to see your sister one last time. 

————————

When it came to planning the funeral, you had to go out to your family’s cottage to help. You said you could go alone, but frankly, good luck telling Nesta and the Valkyries to stay behind when one of their own is in pain. 

So when you saddled up to your family with three warriors behind you, they were scared a bit to say the least. 

Emerie held your hand during the funeral discussion as Nesta watched the director to make sure she wasn’t insensitive to you. Gwyn stood guard behind you. They were protectors, they were not gonna leave one of their girls to deal with this alone.

Eventually, the funeral was planned. The rest of your chosen family came out and surprised you. You sent a notice to them of when the funeral was and told them they didn’t need to come because you knew how busy they were. 

When they showed up on your family’s doorstep to surprise you, you started crying again. 

——-

The day of the funeral, it was the entire inner circle crammed into the living room of the cottage of your mortal family’s living space.  

You felt bad cramming two males with wings into that small space, especially with so many other people. But Cassian and Azriel assured you that there’s nowhere else they would be. 

You slept sharing a flimsy mattress with Elain, since the other two sisters were with their mates. But Feyre and Rhys slept close. So did Nesta and Cassian. Both women facing your general direction. 

Azriel did not sleep. He wanted to be there in case you woke up in tears again. 

Amren slept sitting up against a wall, she wouldn’t admit it but she wanted an eye on you. She only trusted hers. 

Mor was curled on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between her and Elain. 

Emerie and Gwyn slept down by your guys’ legs. Emerie’s head on Mor’s thigh. Gwyn hugging Elain legs in her sleep. 

Azriel chose not to mention what happened when your dad came downstairs in the middle of the night to check on you. 

It was as if he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there. He just lost one daughter, he didn’t want to lose another. 

He nodded at Azriel who nodded back. Assuring him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you always had people watching out for you.  

As everyone got ready, it was a somber moment. Elain did your hair, Mor did your makeup, Amren set out your jewelry and Feyre handled your clothes. They didn’t want you doing anything. 

Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie let your nephew and niece play with their swords. It was the one thing they seemed interested in so they let them do it. 

Rhysand was currently trying to get your dad to accept a check from him and Feyre to pay for everything plus anything else your parents need during this time. Your father was refusing. Rhys spoke bluntly. “Your daughter is my family, please let me take care of her family.” 

Your dad didn’t. But Rhys hid the check in your dads night table. He felt yucky going into their room but did it to make sure they got the check. 

On the way to the funeral, Azriel had offered his arm for you to take, which you gratefully did. Rhysand got the door for you. Az led you in. The overprotective bat boys acted like your body guards, which you appreciated, however you couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at it. 

Nesta told you before the funeral to let her know if you wanted her to intervene to keep some relatives away. 

One of your (racist) aunts kept telling you how you’re responsible for your sister's kids. Then when she saw Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Emerie, she just stared. Before you could intervene, Elain and Gwyn stood in front of them. 

You almost wacked her so hard it was going to be a double funeral. You had prepared them before that some relatives were racist. They didn’t give a rat's ass. 

Oh and then everyone in your party including you were Fae. That also did not help. 

Hence why you lived in Velaris, away from all the bigotry.

During the service, Feyre sat on one side of you, Amren on the other side. Feyre clutched your hand and Amren even held out her hand for you. She always had a soft spot for you. Mor’s makeup didn’t last long throughout the service which is why she did bare minimum on your face. 

Afterwards, you left pretty soon after the service was done. You just had to leave the building. You guys went to a pub in your funeral attire. Azriel sat next to you and Nesta on the other side. Rhys refused to let you pay. But you knew he was trying to get you riled up. It was working. 

He was incredibly happy to see the fire return to your eyes. 

At that moment, with your family, you knew you were going to be okay. 

Just have to take every day one step at a time.

[kenposting]

He's Just Ken <3

Summary: Ken has always been more than fond of you, and he kept that to himself, like a small thought that didn't mean much. You, unbeknownst to him, of course, felt the same, and he is shocked to learn this.

AN: Erm I grew up writing on Tumblr but then I graduated and got a job and got married and very quickly divorced (I'm literally only 21 and he slept with someone else lol) and I figured I might as well start again so I am sorry of this is ridiculous but I just think Ken is the sweetest and he would never treat anyone like that! Damn. PS: Khosh if you saw this, no you didn't.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky got darker every night, and for some odd reason, it really, really frightened you. You weren’t sure if any of the other Barbies felt the same. Did anyone else make sure to hurry home before the light started dimming? Sure, you could ask about it, but what if this was a malfunction? What if they sent you to see Weird Barbie? 

You supposed that wouldn’t be so bad… unless they sent you to her alone… at nighttime. 

With a humph you washed the thought away and roller skated a little faster. With panicked glances behind you up at the sky, you missed what was right in front of you and bumped into something. Hard. 

All you heard was a yelp mixed with your own sound of surprise before hitting the ground. You blinked a few times before opening your eyes all the way. Again, you saw night fast approaching, but in the foreground was Ken. 

“Oh, hey Ken!” 

“Hey, Barbie!”

“That hurt.” 

His skin glistened above you and you wished so bad that he wasn’t there to see you right now. How embarrassing… You really were good at skating too, but now he’ll never know that. You were quick to ask Ken if he was hurt as well, but he’s much larger than you and remained that it wasn’t more than a gentle bump. His yelp was one more of surprise and worry than anything. 

One pink-opened-face ambulance visit later and you were on your way. Although, now… it was nighttime and everywhere you looked was shaded a deep blue. 

Ken picked up on your uncomfort quickly, brows furrowing at the way you almost folded into yourself.

“Are you okay, Barbie? You’re usually so good at skating, I was surprised to see you fall.” 

You jumped a little, forgetting he was there, your breath catching in your throat. Wait, he thought you were good at skating? 

“Sorry, Ken. I’m fine! Just…” you remembered the possibility of this being a malfunction and decided not to mention it. “Just a little dazed from the fall. Do you remember which way my Dreamhouse was?” 

Ken thought very hard. He looked as if there were actual wheels turning in his head. You worried he would hurt himself.

“Of course I do, I just hope you’re okay. I’m trying to think if I’ve ever met anyone that had forgotten where they lived. Maybe this requires visiting Weird–”

“No!” A silence fell between the two of you. “No, I’m okay. I just… wanted an excuse to ask you to walk me home.” 

You had never seen Ken’s face that shade of pink before. Yes, you were afraid of the dark, but there was a very real underlying truth to your statement. You were always close with Stereotypical Barbie and had heard many times her griefs about Ken and the ways he liked her, and it sort of perplexed you. You got that she just didn’t feel the same, and it was sweet how he couldn’t pick up on that, but gosh… so many times you had found yourself wishing to be her, just for a day. After everything went down between the two of them, you saw a huge change in him. He was lighter, more sure of himself. You had even mentioned to the Barbies at a few girls nights how you felt very differently about him than Stereotypical barbie did, followed by squeals and encouragements to go after him. You couldn’t decide, though, which was scarier: nighttime or speaking to Ken. 

Ken stammered over his response before settling on a simple “Sure,” lifting out a bent arm for you to hold on to. You still had your rollerskates on, of course, because you didn’t bring any change of shoes. Duh. 

He slipped on his rollerblades too so you’d feel more comfortable, reassuring you he suddenly just felt like skating too. He thought it was cute that you couldn’t rollerblade yet and still used standard skates instead. You let him lead the way, the two of you gliding gently across the pink pavement. It was quiet at nighttime, and although that frightened you, something about this was different. Peaceful. 

You noticed Ken intentionally making some wrong turns. Maybe he also enjoyed spending extra time with you. Another humph to clear the thought from your head and, before you knew it, you stood outside of your home. 

Ken looked down at the ground, unsure of what to do or say now. He had also been searching (for weeks now, maybe months) for an excuse to walk you home. Never did he think that would happen, let alone the desire ever be reciprocated, even in the slightest. He started minimizing the whole thing in his head, reminding himself that it would be ridiculous if you thought of him in a way that was anything more than just friends, plus, you just fell down, you probably didn’t want to walk alone in case you fell again, and–

“Ken?” 

He had truthfully forgot you were even there. 

“Oh, sorry, Barbie. I’ll walk you to your door.” 

Something came over you and you panicked again. What if this was your only chance to tell him you liked him? I mean, how much longer could this go on? The skates made you much taller than you typically stood. Unfortunately, so did his, and you were still much smaller than him. You resorted to standing on the toe-stoppers to gain a little height, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Ken."

He looked like he was about to barf, but in a really good way, if that makes sense. His mouth fell open and his cheeks darkened again. He wanted to say something – so much, he wanted to say so much, but he just… couldn’t. He just stared at you, frozen in place. 

You couldn’t believe you just did that. A thought crossed your mind, and at first it was sort of funny, but then very sad. 

“Hey Ken, where do you sleep? All of you, actually, where do the Kens sleep?” 

He still just looked at you, lips still parted. After blinking a few times, he looked around, almost searching for an answer littered on the ground somewhere. “Beach.” 

He laughed at himself. “Sorry, the beach. We just hang out at the beach.” 

“The beach? But its so dark out there…” 

His head tilted to the side a little. “It’s always dark at nighttime. You don’t like it? I find it kind of nice, actually.” 

You sheepishly shook your head. “It really scares me. For whatever reason... I always make sure I’m home before the sun goes down.” 

“So that’s why you’re never at any of Barbie’s parties?” 

You looked up at him and noticed your lipstick marked on his rosy cheek. 

“You noticed I'm never there?” 

“Of course I noticed. You’re the only reason I ever go.” 

He blushed after letting that slip. 

“And, it’s also fun, I guess.” 

You felt your cheeks start to heat up, but that’s nothing new. You always felt like this when you’re around him. 

“Anyways…” He smiled at himself. “You should come. I can walk you home every time so it won’t be scary.” 

Something bubbled up inside you and you literally and physically couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up tall to kiss him again, but this time he noticed, and you stilled in his gaze. 

“I…” Why was this so hard? You had daydreamed for ages about what to say to him if you ever gained the courage to speak up, and now that you finally can, it seemed impossible. 

“Do you want to some inside?” That wasn’t right. “I mean, I want you to come inside. Do you also want to come inside?” 

He looked at you so lovingly and let out a gentle laugh. He liked you so much, he didn’t even process what you had asked. Wait. Come inside? You wanted him to come inside? Like boyfriend girlfriend?? His eyes widened. 

“Why?” 

You stilled at his response. You just wanted to cry. He was right, why? Why would you ask such a dumb question? He would never like you that way, and you felt silly for assuming he would. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll see you later, Ken–” 

“No!” He startled himself at the outburst. “Sorry, I meant… Why me? Do you… Do you like me?” 

You were relieved at his explanation, but he wasn’t exactly making it easy for you. 

“Well… yeah. That’s why I’m asking you to come inside.” 

It was like fireworks went off in his brain. Your words banged around inside his head so loud he couldn’t think of anything else. You liked him? You did just say yes, didn’t you? Did he make that up? 

“Oh well I also like you too as well a lot very much.” 

What? Literally what. What was that. He cringed at himself a little. He had also been dreaming of what he’d say to you, and this was definitely not it. 

You giggled at him. He was just so sweet, and so so nervous. Both of you were. You took his hand and lead him towards your home. 

Inside he just stood there, unsure of what to do. It was like if he moved he’d somehow ruin everything. You noticed he was like that a lot, actually. It made you kind of sad. 

He had liked your friend so much before, and even though that was years ago, it seemed to still really impact him. You realized it wasn’t about her, it was about him. It had changed the way he saw himself. Her not liking him back got twisted up in his mind somehow and he had taken it to believe that no one liked him. He felt silly for thinking she ever would, that anyone ever would. It became part of his own perception of the world around him, that he was some sort of nuisance or a bother. 

You sat on your couch and he helped you unlace your skates. His hands were stong and gentle, and with your skates off, he was now much taller than you. You stook directly at eye level to his chest. His shape was so defined. Gosh, why did Mattel build him that way?

Blinking the nerves away, you made your way to the kitchen. Bless his heart, honestly. He has no idea how good he looks, right now or ever. This was also silly at first, but now that you thought about it, it was sort of sad. Why didn’t he know? What does he think of himself? He’s always so dismissive of compliments, even from other Kens. Of course he asked why when you invited him in, he can’t comprehend being worthy of something like that. Sure, you had moments of being insecure as well, but this felt different, deeper. 

You glanced up to see him still sat on your couch. He was fidgeting with his hands and looking around. He looked like he felt uncomfortable; like he was somehow gravely out of place and believed he had overstayed his welcome. 

There was an ache in you at seeing him like that. As soon as you walked into the room, he perked up and smiled, thanking you for the glass of water – but you noticed his hands were shaking as he sipped it. 

“Ken, are you okay? I understand if you don’t want to stay over.” 

He nearly choked on the drink. “Stay over!? I thought you just wanted me to stop by, like, out of courtesy.” 

You smiled warmly at him and something … changed. He felt something shift inside of him, like he could feel that your smile was genuine and real and more than a courtesy. You looked at him the way he looked at everyone else. 

“No, Ken. I…” How do you say this? 

“I do like you, and if I wasn’t so shy, I’d tell you all about it. I love spending time with you. You just look very handsome and its making me a little nervous.” 

You heard a slight gasp from him. He had been waiting his whole life to feel liked or wanted or invited or worthy or important or… well, handsome. And to hear it from you? It was just too much. He teared up a little, something a lot less foreign to everyone since traveling to the Real World. He liked crying, actually. He just didn’t know why it happened so much. Was he just weaker than the other Kens? 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He sniffled out an apology, standing up to leave. It must've been a real mood-killer and the last thing he wanted to do was bum you out. 

You stood too, taking ahold of his hand. He looked down at you and saw you were also tearing up. 

“Ken, you’ve got to believe me.” 

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He just stepped toward you and held onto you. 

The two of you cried – and the two of you apologized for it at the same time, your tears quickly evolving into giggles. The more you both tried to apologize for being a bummer the more you’d speak over one another and it really was very silly. 

He was blushing now, and he looked much more confident. He’s never met anyone that also feels so out of place. He felt comfortable around you, like he didn’t need to worry if he was bothering you. And to think you felt like you weren't worthy of him liking you? That was ridiculous, and very confusing for him, but it mad him feel differently. If he felt it was silly for you to feel unlikeable, wouldn't that mean he was silly for feeling that way too?

“Its okay, Ken, really. I like you, right now. You don’t have to do anything else.” 

And he’d never forgotten that. Everyday he was excited to exist for the first time in a long time. The already pink landscape of Barbieland seemed so much brighter now, and day after day he had a spring in his step. 

Months went by of him being encouraged by you, invited by you, seen by you -- he truly did like like you and he had no idea what to do about it, but he figured everyday he’d try his best to show you. 

Today was exactly six months since you biffed it on your skates. He still felt bad for knocking you over, but he was glad it happened. 

He breathed a shaky breath before knocking on your door. He was still always so nervous to see you, but in a good way. 

You opened it to be greeted by Ken in literally a tuxedo, and you immediately felt bad after letting out a laugh. He just beamed and laughed with you, striking a pose. So cool. 

“I know, its a lot. But I look good, don’t I?” 

You smiled up at him and shook your head. 

“Ken, you always look good. What is going on?” 

He handed you a bouquet of daisies (that matched his boutonniere, of course) and a shimmery white gift box. 

Shocked and confused barely scratched the surface. What was he planning? Sure, every time he saw you he brought you a gift, but it was usually something small and genuine, like a rock that ‘reminded him of you’ or something he noticed you eyeing on your last date. 

He shrugged it all off as if he wasn't dressed for some important extravagant black tie event. 

“I wanted to take you out and I wanted it to be special. Thought it would be nice for a change.” 

You felt like crying again. All the Barbies and Kens teased the two of you for being sensitive, but you really did enjoy the vulnerability the two of you shared. I mean, how sweet is he? Could he get any sweeter?

The gift box held a blush pink gown, which, of course, made you cry for real this time. 

The two of you looked very lovely together. You both giggled the entire duration of the very long and uphill car ride, Ken giving you secret directions to the spot he picked because he cannot drive (LOL). 

You turned the corner to see a very small and intimate restaurant. It was encased at the edge of the mountain, overlooking the sea. 

Now both of you were crying (and laughing at each other because the other was crying). He took your hand and lead you to a small candlelit table. 

“Ken, what is going on? This is all so beautiful.” 

He looked down and smiled, shrugging, before straightening himself up and clearing his throat. You presume he was attempting to build confidence, and it worked for a moment, but he very quickly returned to appearing very nervous. 

“Six months ago you absolutely ate it on the pavement and I’m really glad you did.” 

He was not off to a great start, but you found it charming. 

“Not that I was glad you got hurt… Sorry, hold on.” 

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of pink paper. 

“You wrote this down?” 

“Hey, you’re ruining it!” He laughed at himself, feeling a little silly and overly serious. 

“Anyways…” He tossed the paper, opting for improvising the rest of what he wnated to tell you. 

“I’m glad you suck at rollerskating because that means I get to hold your hand and guide you. I’m glad I can’t drive because it gives me an excuse to ask you to take me everywhere. I’m glad the nighttime freaks you out because I get to swoop in and save you from it. I’m glad you cry all the time because I do too and I’m glad I do because it probably makes you feel better about it, just like you make me feel better about it.” 

He was right, and his words had you crying already. 

“I hope you never get better at rollerskating or not crying or being scared of the dark, and I surely hope I never learn how to drive, but even if all of that did happen, I promise I would make up another excuse to be with you. That night you told me you were also looking for an excuse to be with me when you, again, absolutely spilled on your skates, and for the first time I felt like I meant something to someone. And to you.” He sighed at the thought of it. “I can’t believe it was you. I wish I had words to sum up the amount of time I had been running through what I’d say to you if I only could, and I still choked on it, just like now. Everyday it’s like I can’t breathe when you’re not around. I mean, all the Kens hate me because I can’t shut up about you.” 

The two of you laughed again, and you saw he was tearing up now too. 

“I like you Barbie.” His blush deepened. “No, I love you, Barbie. And I wanted to take you here to try and make you feel even a fraction of how you make me feel. Special, and important. And handsome.” 

“Ken…” He did look so handsome in the lighting, and the lull of the other guest’s conversations washed over the two of you. You realized the nighttime wasn’t so scary when Ken was around. 

“Ken, I love you too.” You response was rushed, like you couldn’t help the words from just spilling out. 

“I’ve always liked you, for years, you can ask the other Barbies. I don’t have the words either, but I promise I thought of you just as much, if not more. I still think of you. I’m thinking of you now and you’re in front of me.” 

He giggled at you and felt the familiar warmth of being truly appreciated. 

“I just wish there was some way to show you.” 

His eyes looked up at you. He felt the same way you did. He also noticed sometimes you couldn’t believe he liked you either. It was a funny situation, the two of you both feeling flattered in the other’s gaze. 

“Then show me.” 

You couldn’t make it home fast enough. You fumbled with the door of the Dreamhouse before leading him inside. His hands were shaking again, but not from insecurity or fear this time. 

He was so gentle as he touched you, grazing his hands over your arms, almost like he was seeking permission. 

“Yes, its okay.” 

His breath was shaky, as was yours, and every gesture was laced with respect and admiration. He was slow and attentive to your reactions. You stood tall to kiss him, but you couldn’t make it. He smiled at you before leaning down to help you close the gap, choosing to still let you kiss him instead of the other way around. 

Sure, the two of you had kissed lots of times, but always very quickly. Both of you were head over heels for the other and the thought of anything more made your ears heat up. You slowly leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. He placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding the two of you. 

You sat on your couch like you both had hundreds of times. What was so different now? It felt personal, like you both knew he wasn’t over to just hang out this time. 

“Is this okay?” 

His blue eyes were just enchanting. Everything about him, actually, like all he was programmed for was making you laugh and ensuring you were always comfortable. 

You nodded, asking him the same. 

He smiled at you. 

“Yeah, more than okay. I just want you to feel safe.” 

You just wanted to scream. He was so sweet and kind and handsome and tall and silly and smart. It was just ridiculous. 

“Ken.” 

You began, looking very serious. He thought it was very cute. 

“You said you loved me and I love you too.” 

He nodded, wondering where you were going with this. 

“That means we’re girlfriend boyfriend.” 

He felt a little dizzy hearing you say that, like he’d imagined it so many times before, and he hadn’t really thought about it in a while. 

“And I think I want to do what girlfriends boyfriends do.” 

He smiled at you. You looked so sweet. 

“And what is it that they do?” 

You hadn’t really thought that far yet. 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

He knew what that felt like. When he went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie, he learned all about what people do when they’re girlfriend boyfriend, and a lot of it was sad and felt very mean to the girlfriends. He did remember, though, a lot of movies and books he’d read about the nice and sweet parts of it though. 

“I know a little bit about it, but I’m not sure if you’d like it.” 

He wasn’t teasing you at all, and you knew that. He leaned forward and whispered, too shy to speak about those things too loudly. 

Your eyes widened. This all sounded absurd, but you couldn’t help but notice a warmth spreading throughout yourself. For some reason you wanted to kiss him more than you ever had. 

“Of course, I’ve never done any of it before. But I guess there’s a first time for everything, and it seems like most people in the Real World take it very seriously.” 

Your brows furrowed at this and you sat up straight, taking it very seriously. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at you. You were just glowing, sat there in your gown he picked out for you. It was an honor to see you always, but now felt even more special. He couldn’t believe you were thinking about him. It was very sweet, but he also felt a warmth spreading within himself, one he didn’t recognize, and he also wanted to kiss you. 

The two of you sat in this feeling for what felt like hours. You felt like you were on fire under his gaze, and he felt the same way. 

“Ken, can I kiss–” 

He didn’t let you finish. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

More Ken stories here <3

[http-finnick]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫

finnick odiar x fem!reader

summary: after the war, your whereabouts are a mystery left with missing next to it. finnicks days are gloomy without his love as jealous friends burden him.

request: hi I love your finnick stories so much!! i really like reading them ♥️ i saw requests are open an was wondering if you could do a finnick x reader where its after the war and he thinks shes dead but later finds out she’s alive and he’s just happy and excited to plan their life together? thank you ♥️

I dont..miss her. it's strange. I- I want her here it's just..I feel like I've lost something..like I'll find it soon. It'll be in arms reach soon, just...wait. that's all. wait.

"you're grieving. It's denial" his head pops up to see a red-headed woman cross her legs, he almost forgot he was saying that all out loud

"she isn't missing, Finnick, she isn't at arms reach. She's dead." Annie moves her hair behind her ear before resting her head on her hand, staring at his expression, for a reaction to her statement

"some shrink you are." he scoffs, he hates how she's talking. she isn't dead. she cant be.

"...finnick" pity. her tone is pitiful and there's nothing he despises more. he struggles to find logic to support his calm as he fumbles from rage

"no body."

"what?" "no body. no proof. she could be alive" now he stares straight at her. her wide brown eyes flashing a sign of annoyance before being coated with a wave of seriousness.

"we went over this. you need to look at the facts-" "I am. no body." now he's getting defense, how could she say that? wheres her hope? she never gives up on anyone why would she give up on you so quickly?

"you called me a shrink. I'm not. I'm a friend and you need to listen to me as that. mourn her. do it now before you hold onto her forever"

.

she's gone. I know that now. I don't talk about her anymore, annie doesn't like the noise. mostly to myself when I want to reminisce on good memories that just end up with me crying in the bathroom like a pathetic wimp. sometimes I think to talk about her to annie but she just tells me to let go of her. but I can't.

the 5 stages of grief. Annie told me about that. is confusion one? I feel confused.

I sit on the island counter as I hear fabric on fabric, it's the dress of annie swiping against itself as she walks in to check on me.

"hey, you okay?" she leans against the wall, fiery red hair longer than ever as she awaits my answer

"uhh, yeah, yeah." brushing it off as I sit up, she isn't satisfied. he knows but it isn't the time.

"wanna talk about it?" seriously? he can? and to think she hated the noise

"it'd be nice" he answered sniffing slightly as he was already getting emotional

"what's the matter?" she sits down and motions for him to do as well, he hesitates, feeling more in control of the situation by standing and looking away, but, he sits.

"uh, I'm really am missing her a lot more" he watched her chew her cheek and he starts to feel claustrophobic. is he a burden? an annoyance to bring up the past? to dwell so heavily?

"what are you hanging onto so much?" her tone is soft but he knows spitfire when he hears it, he smiles and bites his bottom lip, he knew it was too good to be true.

"what?" shes clueless. utterly clueless and he's about to snap

"no it's just, wow."

"..wow?"

"you tell me to mourn but I'm never allowed to!" he smiles while sitting up, completely done. over her bullshit and looking for a fight

"well, mourning isn't clinging onto things fin." she hits right back, ready to get this over with and go to bed.

"what the hell is wrong with you? I- I have no one to fucking talk to!"

"you aren't here when you talk! you are somewhere else living in the past and you can't hear anyone when they tell you the truth!"

"oh- oh so what this truth?" he pushes her, ready for her to say, daring her to.

"that she's dead and you need to get over that." she strikes for the kill and it fucking hurts. he bites his tongue as she scoffs and tries to form a semi-redeemable apology that he knows he just bullshit

"no. I need you to get the fuck out." he waves his hand mindlessly towards the door as he stares at the floor, feeling blood pool into his mouth from biting his tongue a little too hard

.

two of the most important women are gone from his life and he only has a chance with one of them.

he wears dress pants and a button-up with flowers he picked this morning. he needs at least for this to work out.

he slides the bouquet onto the counter and lets his fingers run through his fluffy locks as he opens the fridge, trying to find some drinks they can have together as he scans the empty cold box.

he throws his head back at the sound of the rippling scream of his phone, he can't deal with post-capitol shit right now.

he swings his feet and grabs the telephone off the wall, stating his name and 'hi' as he waits

a woman chimes in on the other line stating herself and her authority as she starts to say things he doesn't really understand, numbers of times and dates, he doesn't do appointments or capitol press anymore

"wait- wait. I'm sorry, what?"

"for ms.l/n, when will you arrive for her?" he drops the phone as his throat closes up. they found her. they found her. they found her.

her body.

pickup. they want me to come to get her. his knees became weak and he slid to the floor, only now hearing her voice asking for him as it dangled next to his shaking body

he grabs it and puts it up to his ear, his voice cracking as he asks what date, time, and location to...pick her up.

he couldn't help but notice the way she talked about 'ms.l/n' in a slight past tense. he wanted confirmation for the longest time but it was bittersweet knowing she was actually gone. no fuck that. it's bitter it hurts like hell. it feels like the day he found out she was gone and panicked looking for her, though this time actually finding a body. he isn't gonna let Annie's "coping 101" infect his brain now. he is in pain. he feels like he is dying.

his love is gone. It's been months of her gone but now she's gone.

the train ride was silent as he just sat there in shock the whole time. he was lucky enough to get one today. he hopes they are wrong, hoping when he walks in it'll be someone else.

he stumbles into the hospital, telling the nurses about the call and about the woman on the other line. they tell him a room number and he floats there without question.

he notices how the room isn't leading to a morgue but rather a patient room. maybe it's full. maybe they found her with other missing troops.

and turns the door and cracks it open, he can't stop himself to shut his eyes tightly as he hopes shes is in a zipped body bag at least

he opens his eyes right when he walks in.

there. it's you. no doubt.

it's you sitting up. you're alive.

"y-y/n?"

"holy shit finnick..you're all dressed up for me?" how, how could you joke at this time? how can you joke at all? you were dead. he thought you died he-

he sprints towards you and hugs you tightly, tears flowing from his eyes as he smells you, feels you, loves you again

"I- I thought you died.."

"me too" you mumble feeling your own tears slip out as he weeps against you. you're safe.

"I love you, I love you so much" he cries out, not daring to pull away from you but you manage to lift him up just enough to be face-to-face with him. you kissed him softly, his lips familiar and warm

"I love you too"

you're thin and bruised. utterly beaten down by nature as your busted lip smiles at him, and he knows no matter how long you were lost you were the same old you deep down.

"let's get married. let's get married and move anywhere you want." he smiles, thinking of living with you in the meadow, alone, just the two of you.

"woah, next you're gonna say let's make a million babies" you giggle, pretending like you weren't about to say the same thing.

"not quite a million my love but close to it" he laughs and you fall into it as well. wiping your tears with your free hand had only now noticed how hard your other hand was gripping his

"I missed your laugh so much" he sniffs, tears still spilling out as he smiles at you

"I missed everything about you so much" you dip back in to kiss him and he goes right to it, hugging you deeply as he thinks about how soon you'll be his wife. soon he'll be your husband and soon you two will have a life. a real one.

an: I hope this is okay! I added Annie drama on accidentally lmao. I hope I didn't pace it weirdly and I hope I was able to catch how Finnick was feeling at least a little well. like he knew deep down she was alive but he was just mourning her absent presence. I hope you guys enjoyed it! mwah, love you so much!

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 12

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: You see a different side of Jake when he spends the night again.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, femdom, edging, teasing, slight exhibitionism, sexting, etc.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Go sit down in the living room,” Bradley insists, pushing you out of the kitchen to clean up after dinner because you cooked, “Pick out a movie or something, just no chick flicks.”

Jake helps him as you settle on the couch, eventually picking ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ as they finish up.

“Oh come on,” Bradley huffs as he sees it on the screen.

You laugh, sitting up so Jake can settle behind you. “You can pick next.”

“You don’t mind if I stay awhile?” He asks, flopping down on the couch across from you two.

“Would it matter if I did?” You tease, laughing as he tosses a pillow. “I’m kidding! Of course, you can stay.”

“Alright,” he replies, tugging at your heartstrings when he continues. “I just don’t want to intrude on your alone time together.”

“Hey,” you toss the pillow back, hitting him in the face. “You’re still my best friend. That isn’t going to change because I’m dating someone.”

“Alright,” Bradley says, glancing at Jake who gives him a nod.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Drew calls as your movie ends, and you put him on speakerphone so the guys can talk too.

“…and then we went out on the canoes and everyone else’s tipped but not ours!” He rushes out, talking a mile a minute. “Did you guys talk yet? Jake? Are you my mom’s boyfriend now?”

“How much sugar have you had today?” You laugh, teasing him.

Jake’s smiling too. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend now. Is that-“

“Yes!” The volume of answering shout makes you wince. “Roo, did you hear that? Our plan worked!”

“What plan?” You ask, looking up.

“Nothing,” Bradley and Drew answer together.

You roll your eyes but a smile pulls at your lips. “I just can’t with you two sometimes.”

“Are you guys gonna get married too?” Drew asks, not waiting for an answer before he’s asking another question, “Oh! Are you gonna have a baby? I really want a brother, but a sister-”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself there, little Kernsie. Remember what we talked about?” Bradley saves you from having to answer while you avoid looking at Jake.

“Oh yeah, my bad,” Drew replies. “Now you just need a girlfriend, Roo.”

Bradley laughs. “I-“

“Wait,” Drew interrupts, suddenly sounding so small, making your heart pinch. “Can we still have boys' nights if you get a girlfriend?”

“Nothing is gonna stop us from having boys' night,” Bradley says, voice thick.

“Promise?” His little voice asks.

“I promise,” Bradley replies, not looking up.

“Okay good,” he replies, perking back up. “I gotta go. We’re gonna have a campfire before bed. Love you guys!” He hangs up before any of you can reply.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The room is quiet, heavy with emotion as Bradley scrolls for a movie. Jake lays back on the couch before guiding you back against his chest. You melt into his embrace; it feels so good to be held after years of having to be the one doing the holding as a mom.

Bradley starts snoring a few minutes later.

“He okay?” Jake murmurs as his fingertips trail up and down your arm. Bradley had quickly wiped his tears and changed the subject earlier when Jake had entered the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking over. He always acts so happy and carefree but you know he’s lonely. “Grief is weird. I don’t know how to else to explain it.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over you both. “I won’t…I would never expect your friendship to change because of me. Or he and Drew’s relationship.”

“I know,” you smile, turning your head for a kiss. “He knows that too; I don’t think he’s allowed himself to grieve fully and big changes like this bring up a lot of emotion.”

He nods, attention returning to the movie; for a few minutes at least. The fingers trailing over your arm fall lower, fiddling with the hem of your tee shirt before tracing over your stomach.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs by your ear, making you shiver as his cock twitches to life behind your back. He trails nonsensical patterns up over your belly button to the underside of your bralette-encased breast.

It feels naughty with Bradley snoring just a few feet away, but you still arch your back in a silent request.

He chuckles lowly and obliges, pinching your nipple as his other hand slides down into the front of your leggings, groaning when he finds you already wet.

“You like this, huh?” He murmurs hotly, nipping at your earlobe as he finds your clit.

You bite your lip to keep from whimpering as you nod.

“Gotta be real quiet then,” he whispers, sliding two fingers inside you. “Can you do that? Not make a sound?”

You nod again, gripping his thigh when he curls those fingers against your g-spot as his palm rubs your clit.

Instead of getting you off quickly with the possibility of Roo waking up any moment, he drags it out; slowly fucking you with his fingers while teasing your nipples. Finally, you start to tighten, on the edge of release, but he stills his fingers.

“What are-why’d you stop?” You whisper, chest heaving.

“Thought he was waking up,” he replies, a smug smile evident in his voice.

Bradley’s snores haven’t changed nor has he moved.

You turn slightly, hand slides up behind you into his hair and tug. “Liar,” you reply, nipping his sharp jaw.

His cock twitches at your back as he resumes his ministrations, pushing you back to the edge, but he stops when you’re on the brink. Again.

“Jake,” you groan softly, frustrated yet loving this side of him you haven’t seen yet. “Please?”

He hums against your hair as the hand on your chest begins teasing your breasts again; pinching, rolling, tugging your nipples until your hips begin to gyrate against his motionless fingers still inside you.

“Come on, Jake,” you whine, bringing your hand down over his to encourage him. “Please?”

He shudders behind you before finally giving in. “God, I love hearing you beg.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, sighing as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He starts to slow again when he feels you clenching but you turn and capture his lips. “I won’t let you cum for a week if you stop again,” you warn, sinking your teeth into his lower lip to send the message home.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he breathes; instantly folding as you take back the reins of control. His hips begin to rut against you as your orgasm washes over you, with nothing but a soft, breathy moan leaving your lips.

Bradley is still snoring away as you pull Jake’s hand from your pants before bringing his fingers to your mouth to clean. Jake groans quietly as your tongue swirls around the digits like you would his cock before releasing them with a soft pop.

“You get a taste of being bad and decide you no longer need to listen?” You ask as you kiss along his jaw.

“I-fuck,” he gasps when you suck on his neck, hard enough to scare him but not enough to leave a mark.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” you smile against his skin at the way he shivers.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies.

You both jump when Bradley snores himself awake.

“How much did I miss?” He yawns, looking at the TV.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

It takes a while for Jake’s erection to go down behind you, especially with the way you keep moving.

Jake picks a movie after the credits roll but you fall asleep a few minutes into it.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The sun is just starting to shine through the living room windows as you’re gently shaken awake by Roo.

“Hey, it’s a little after 6, I’m gonna go home and shower. Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “See you at lunch?”

“Any time, Roo,” you yawn, nodding, “I’ll bring leftovers for lunch.”

“You’re the best,” he smiles, heading for the door.

“Morning,” you turn to kiss Jake awake. “Wanna take a shower?”

“Yes,” he replies sleepily, not opening his eyes while his arms tighten around you. “In 10 minutes.”

You laugh but let him hold you for a few minutes more as you listen to his slow heartbeat as the room begins to brighten with the new day.

Your own heart begins to race as you realize this is how you want to wake up from now on.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Shit! It’s after 7!”

You jolt awake at Jake’s words, having fallen back asleep in his warm embrace.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes as he follows you up the stairs. “What time do you have to be in?”

“It’s okay, I fell asleep too,” you reply, whipping off your clothes and pulling out a clean pair of scrubs. “7:30ish. My first patient is at 7:45.”

“You’re wearing those?” He gulps, looking at the first pair of underwear you grabbed and pulling up, black, lacy boy shorts that show off your ass nicely.

“Yeah, why?” You ask, turning around and seeing precum from his morning wood staining his briefs. “Oh you poor thing,” you coo, time forgotten as you walk over to him. “I might’ve taken care of this in the shower,” you say as your hand brushes over his cock and around his hip to grip his ass. “Too bad we overslept.”

His eyes close and he sucks in a breath when you land a sharp slap to his still-tender ass before you turn to get dressed.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

He pulls you in for a deep kiss that has you wanting more before you drive away. With your lead foot, you make it with 30 seconds to spare.

The morning schedule is busy and the boys are already in your office with your warmed-up leftovers when you break for lunch. It’s brief though, as they have a meeting before their afternoon hop.

“See you tonight?” Jake murmurs before stealing a kiss.

You nod, seeing him out before Sophie comes in a moment later, looking ready to cry.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Sit down,” You gesture to one of the chairs across from your dress that the boys vacated.

“I got accepted to the UCLA program to get my master’s in nursing,” she smiles tearfully.

“Oh Soph, that’s great!” You say, reaching out to squeeze her hand. This had been something she’s been working towards for a while. “Congratulations!”

“You’re not mad?” She asks, lip quivering.

You laugh, “Of course not! Why would I be mad?”

“Because I have to quit,” she replies, tears now spilling over.

“Oh Soph,” you sniff, coming around to hug her. “I’m definitely going to miss you. But I’m happy that you’re finally pursuing this. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up back here as a nurse practitioner.”

She nods as she wipes her tears before giving you all the details.

“I better go get your first afternoon patient checked in,” she sighs, “thanks Reese, for everything.”

“Of course,” you smile, but it falls once she leaves your office.

Not were you only going to miss her, but now you have to find a new nurse.

You pull your phone out to text Jake but he’s already sent one, with a picture attached.

Jake: You were right. Every time I sit down I remember what you did to me yesterday.

The picture is taken under the table, it’s dark but his straining erection is obvious.

Reese: By the looks of things, you enjoyed it.

Reese: Is that why you edged me last night? Was that your way of asking for more?

Jake: Never

Jake: Bradshaw kept moving. I didn’t think you’d want him to catch us in the act.

You bite your lip at his little act, the panties he liked so much this morning growing wet.

Reese: I know you’re lying to me. I’ll find out the truth one way or another tonight.

Reese: Before you suit up for your hop, I want a video of you jerking off.

Reese: and no, you can’t cum. 😘

Sophie’s knock makes you jump. “All set.”

“Thanks,” you reply, cheeks flushing like you’ve been caught.

You can almost hear his sigh before his next text.

Jake: …

Jake: Yes ma’am.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: I just love these two. This version of Jake is quickly becoming my favorite. I dropped a hint for Bradley’s story…any ideas?

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[rarepears]

I've always wondered.

If we stick to canon Solo Leveling knowing that Sung Jinwoo is immortal (right??), what's he going to do when his wife is dead, his sister has passed away, and like he's got few social connections to stick around for? Oh and the Rulers reminding him again that it's not good for him to keep sticking around Earth any longer.

So Sung Jinwoo hops to another world. Another Earth like planet. And since I'm still on a DC Universe kick, I think you might be able to guess where I'm going with this.

Sung Jinwoo sets up shop. He's still a detective helping solve murders. He thinks this is basically the same Earth as before, minus a few differences. He goes about like how he did before, unrealizing just how evolved technology has become because he doesn't really use it that much. (Wow, what a boomer.)

Things go out of control quickly, not that he realizes it. People NOTICE that this new detective is a suspiciously high rate of solving cases. He's pretty efficient too. Oh and notice how he seems to talk to thin air and the shadows? "He's a meta" is the quick conclusion people draw. "He's trying to stay low key."

"True, imagine what the baddies would try to do if they knew someone could speak to the dead."

"Just imagine what rich people could do. I bet that Bruce Wayne person would pay fortunes to speak to that murdered adoptive son of his."

The Gotham locals keep the secret real quiet. They appreciate the guy. Still, they can't help themselves. Grief hits hard.

Someone approaches him asking if he could help them say a few words to a brother that was just killing in a car accident three days ago on the way to visit family.

Like dominos, more requests starts piling in.

Naturally that's where one Tim Drake with too much time on his hands notices Sung Jinwoo too. He's not yet approached Batman, still hoping that Batman can snap out of his funk, that maybe Nightwing would go back and be the Robin that Batman needs.

Basically give me an AU where Tim gets adopted by Sung Jinwoo instead and everyone's convinced that Sung Jinwoo is trying to hide the fact that he's a meta no matter how much Jinwoo protests otherwise.

Jinwoo was never trained in covert ops after all. Plus he doesn't like fame but he also doesn't mind it. (He's apathetic to it and people's perceptions of him is more accurate way of portraying it.)

[undead-supernova]

Right Here, Right Now / Masterlist

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Ties That Bind

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Reader

WORD COUNT: 6707

WARNINGS: canon typical cousin-cest

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

A/N: It's been over a month since HOTD and I'm really rusty with writing so if you see bad writing, pretend you don't xx Please reblog, like, or leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys 💛

You were only two years of age when your mother, Laena Velaryon, and father, Daemon Targaryen, left you in King’s Landing while they went to deal with some business in Driftmark. Looking back, it’s unlikely that they intended for your stay to last longer than a few moons.

The weeks stretched into years, and as you began to serve as your Aunt Alicent’s ward, your parents had more daughters – your sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They visited once, after your cousin Rhaenyra had her son Luke. Your mother had hugged you so tight and for so long that you feared she would never let go. And your father…he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Only a few years after that visit, a raven came to the Red Keep from Pentos. Laena Velaryon was dead. Your Uncle Viserys was gentle enough while delivering the news. He sat by your side, ready to console you if you cried. When you didn’t, he felt safe dismissing you from his chambers.

“She’s in shock.” you heard Alicent whisper as you left the room. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it would not hit you until you were at the burial.

That was not the case.

Long after Lord Vaemond’s eulogy and everyone returned to the castle, you stood on those cliffs staring out into the sea where your mother’s body now lay. It was a strange feeling knowing that she was gone. You felt the loss in your heart, but there was no grief, no pain…you were not even certain that you would miss her.

A part of you was ashamed to feel that way, which is perhaps the reason why you felt the need to hug your father tightly when you were reunited for the first time in years. You wanted him to believe you mourned her as your sisters did. And you hoped being with your family would help you feel that pain. It was a misguided hope.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching under approaching feet. It was Aemond.

He walked over and stood beside you, searching the horizon with his eyes to spot whatever it was you were gazing so intently at. With you being a few years older than him, you stood a head taller, but he was growing fast.

Eventually, he realised that you were not looking at any specific thing and turned his gaze to you. He looked at you through squinted eyes due to the gusts of wind blowing his long silver hair into his eyes.

He examined your face for sometime before asking, “Are you sad?”

A simple question it was not. You thought of how you’d feel if your cousins, or Uncle Viserys and Aunt Alicent died and knew that you’d be inconsolable. You would not feel this…numb.

“I don’t know,” you chose to answer as you turned to face him, “She was my mother and I’m sad she’s gone, but…I never knew her really.”

Any grief you felt was over never getting the chance to know your mother.

These were not thoughts you’d share with anyone, but Aemond wasn’t just anyone. With no dragons to claim, you chose each other. He was your closest friend and ally, and you were certain that there was not a single person in the seven kingdoms that knew your heart better.

Aemond slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew how conflicted you were without the thought being expressed, and he wanted to be your comfort.

You looked down at him and smiled softly, “Thank you. For coming to make sure I was alright.”

“Mother sent me,” he said quickly, sounding flustered. He never liked admitting how much he cared.

“Of course she did,” you chuckled just as a blush coloured his cheeks, “Come, let’s return inside.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were not sure how late it was. All you knew was that you’d been put to bed a few hours earlier but had chosen to read while your sisters snuck out of the room. That reading was interrupted by chatter and yelling coming from down the hall. You would not describe yourself as a particularly nosy child, but the amount of voices made you curious as to why so many people were awake at this hour.

Following the voices, you approached a room where the noise was loudest and pushed the door open. Your father, Daemon, was standing by it and as you looked around the room, you realised that everyone was here; your sisters, Rhaenyra, her children, Aegon and Aemond, your Aunts Rhaenys and Alicent, Uncle Viserys – there were even members of the Kinsguard present.

Aemond was sitting on a chair facing away from you, his mother standing in front of him. As your father pulled you closer to him, you meekly asked, “What happened?”

“Aemond stole Vhagar!” Baela spat harshly as she glared and pointed at him

You shifted your gaze to Aemond who had slightly turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as your eyes landed on him, your blood ran cold and the air seemed to leave your lungs. There was a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, and his eye was swollen and stitched shut.

Without thinking, you slipped out of your father’s hold and brushed past your sisters, Rhaenyra and her children to reach Aemond, ignoring the looks from everyone in the room.

Aemond looked hesitant as you raised a hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, but even that was too sensitive and he winced in pain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back tears asking, “Vhagar did this?”

He shook his head and looked at his mother. You turned to face her and saw her burning gaze focused directly at Rhaenyra who was bleeding from one arm and shielding Luke with the other.

Realisation dawned on you in that moment. “Luke?” you gasped as the boy cowered behind his mother. You couldn’t believe it. What reason could he possibly have had to hurt Aemond?

“There is no need to start this quarrel up again,” Rhaenys said, “We should get the children cleaned up and put them to bed.”

Everyone nodded, mumbling words of agreement as they started to clear out the room.

“Come, Y/N,” Daemon reached out a hand as he summoned you from across the room.

You stared at him for a moment then looked at Aemond whose eye was still on you.

“Uncle Viserys?” he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, “Please may I go with Aemond?”

Viserys looked over your head, no doubt to your father, before letting out a sigh. “Of course, you may,” he cracked a smile, “But don’t stay awake too late.”

You smiled thankfully and returned to Aemond who was being helped out of his chair by Alicent. Almost everyone had left the room now, but Daemon remained by the door, watching you. You took Aemond’s hand in yours as you walked out of the room with Alicent and the Maester trailing behind you.

Alicent allowed you stay with Aemond for the night. She knew that both you and her son needed each other that night. He was laid on his back facing the ceiling, two pillows cradling his head to minimise movement. You climbed into bed beside him when he’d finished his tea and held his hand gently under the blankets.

“Does it hurt terribly?” you whispered after staring at him for a while.

“It did,” he said, “But the Maester’s tea is helping.”

You could see him trying to turn his head to face you completely, but wincing every time he moved it. It broke your heart to see him in so much pain. You didn’t realise when you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” you spoke through tears as you squeezed his hand.

Aemond was quiet at first, but then you saw a tear roll out of his eye and disappear into his silver locks. “I thought you would be angry with me.”

“Angry?” you asked, wiping your eyes, “Why would I be angry with you?”

“I thought– Baela and Rhaena said–” he started through sniffles, “I should’ve given you a chance to claim Vhagar before I did.”

He thought he had stolen your chance at having a dragon, and that you would resent him for it.

“Vhagar chose you,” you reassured him, “She wasn’t mine to claim.”

Aemond seemed to blow out a breath of relief as more tears rolled down the side of his face and into his hair.

You decided to change the subject to make him a big happier, "Once I find a dragon, you could teach me how to claim it."

"And then you and I can go flying together," he said, his tone sounding lighter, eager, "We could race each other around King's Landing!"

"We could fly anywhere we want," you said, intertwining your fingers with his, "Just us."

Aemond did his best to look at you properly as a soft smile formed on his lips, "Just us."

You moved up in the bed and hugged him close. He didn't say anything even when your tears surely soaked through his shirt, and so you didn't let go even after he'd fallen asleep. Not even as you drifted off as well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dawn when you suddenly woke up. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. You glanced over at Aemond who was finally sleeping soundly. He'd woken up twice during the night crying in pain. Only milk of the poppy could ease his plight and allow him to return to his slumber.

The Maester said it would remain like that for next few nights. Alicent seemed even more terrified for Aemond, but you didn't care. You were going to stay by his side and help him through it. When he woke during the night, you whispered that promise to him over and over again, and his body seemed to calm.

Carefully, you slipped your hand out of Aemond's and climbed out of the bed. You gave him one last glance to make sure he was still sleeping before tiptoeing out of the room and returning to your own chambers.

As soon as you entered, you came face to face with your handmaiden, May.

"My Lady," she curtseyed, "Your father is expecting you in Princess Rhaneyra's chambers."

It was an odd request, but you went anyway. You noticed that your sisters were not in their beds and assumed they would be with your father as well.

When you finally arrived at Rhaenyra's chambers, Daemon was visibly annoyed. He turned to you, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Where were you?" he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

You nervously glanced at Rhaenyra who was standing beside him before explaining yourself, "Uncle Viserys said I could go with Aemond."

"Yes, to escort him to his chambers, not spend the night," he snapped, eyes burning deep into you.

His anger was unexpected. You and Aemond had practically shared a bedchamber since you were small. He would often climb into your bed late into the night and you into his. After some time, Alicent no longer cared to send you off to separate rooms, knowing come the morning, you would be found curled up next to each other sleeping soundly.

Of course, your father wouldn't know that. He was never there.

"I'm sorry, father," you bowed your head, mostly to avoid his eyes.

"It does not matter," he grunted, "I called you here to tell you that we will be returning to Dragonstone today."

The news was unsurprising considering what happened to Aemond. It was good they would be gone while he recovered.

"I need you to go and pack your things," he continued, "We will be leaving soon."

You froze. He could not be suggesting what you thought.

"Why?"

"Because you are coming with us," Rhaenyra answered. Coming from her lips, it sounded more like a declaration.

You began to panic as you looked between the two. "But…I don't want to," you said as you took a step back, "I wish to return to King's Landing."

They both seemed taken aback by that. Rhaenyra shared a glance with Daemon before stepping closer and taking your hand.

"Y/N, your father is going to Dragonstone. Your sisters too," she smiled encouragingly as she crouched down slightly, "Don't you want to be with them?"

"I want to go home," you snatched your hand away, suddenly terrified of how this situation may unfold. You couldn’t leave. Not now.

Not once did Daemon shift his stance. He just stood there, weight resting on one foot as he stated, "We're your family."

It was true. But your sisters had never needed you, and you questioned whether your father ever did either. What had changed? Why did he want you with him now that your mother was gone and Aemond needed you the most?

"Aemond is family too," you whispered, your gaze never leaving your father's.

Daemon rarely lost composure, but in that moment you saw anger awakened in him. He titled his head and narrowed his eyes before moving closer to you.

"That little cunt stole your mother's dragon," he hissed, "Your dragon."

That set you off. Your fists clenched at your sides and your skin felt like it was burning.

"You cannot steal a dragon," Daemon reacted to that like you had spit in his face, "And I don't want to go to Dragonstone, I don’t want to leave Aemond. I want to return to King’s Landing with Uncle Viserys.”

Daemon was silent as he watched you. He meant to intimidate you, but you were too angry to be affected. Rhaenyra’s eyes were trained on him, seemingly concerned about what he might do.

"I am your father,” he said after a moment’s silence, “You will do as I say."

He brushed past you as he walked out of the room and that was that. Tears began to well in your eyes as you looked down at the ground. You promised Aemond that you would be there for him. You promised…and then you didn’t see him for six years.

***

In some ways, being on Dragonstone had not been the worst thing imaginable. You cherished the opportunity to form relationships with your sisters, and your cousins Jace, Luke and Joffrey. But even as you grew closer to them, they could not replace the people you had lost.

For a time, the relationship with your father was improved. It was only in recent years when his many attempts to have you betrothed had been rejected by you that your relationship soured. You could not provide him with a reason for your rejections despite the suitability of many of the matches, and so he washed his hands off of you.

Your father loved you. You knew he did. But he loved other things – and people – more. It was a reality you came to accept in the years living with him.

When Rhaenyra announced that the family would be travelling to King's Landing on short notice, you could barely contain your excitement. You did not care that it was to go and defend Luke's claim to the Driftwood throne, all that mattered was that you were going to see your family again.

Arriving in King’s Landing on dragon back for the first time was surreal. You did not wait to see the Senryr taken into the dragon pit by the keepers, nor did you wait for your sisters or cousins when you landed. The only thing on your mind was finding Aemond and...well, you did not know what you would do or say yet. But you knew you needed to see him.

Starting at Aemond's old chambers, you were surprised to find Alicent coming out of the room.

"Aunt Alicent," you breathed as she wrapped you in a hug.

She was beaming when she pulled away, even stepping back to take in your appearance. "Y/N," she gasped and cupped your face in her hands, "How you've grown!"

You smiled and looked to your feet as heat rose to your cheeks. "How is Uncle?" you asked, offering a sympathetic smile.

Her face immediately dropped, eyes glazing over as her lip twitched. She didn't have to say it. It was as everyone feared – he did not have long left in him.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, accepting your condolences before plastering another smile on her face, "Were you looking for Aemond? He'll be on his way to the throne room. For the hearing."

"I'll go there now," you pecked her cheek and hurried down the hall.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sheer amount of people filtering into the throne room was clear indication to the importance of this particular hearing. Rhaenyra was standing with your father at the very front of the room on the right side of the aisle. You bowed your head and briskly walked towards them to stand with your cousins.

On the opposite side of the aisle, you spotted white hair very similar to yours on three heads. One of them was sweet Helaena, and Aegon was more than likely the man standing next to her looking bored. Towering over the both of them was Aemond. His hands were clasped behind his back, long hair cascading over his shoulders. The eye patch gave him away instantly.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you saw him, and as if he’d heard you, he snapped his head in your direction. Even from this distance, you saw the way his eye widened ever so slightly upon making eye contact. Every inch of you wanted to dart across the room and throw yourself into him, but you knew what the consequences of such a public display would be.

Where you were anxious and jittery, Aemond froze at the sight of you. He'd gathered that you were in the Red Keep when he encountered his nephews in the courtyard, and yet he was still so unprepared to see you again. Instantly his walls began to crumble and he found himself scrambling to keep them standing.

You smiled at him and he melted, but he could not let you see that. Instead of returning it, he turned away from you and faced the Iron throne. It was an unexpected action, but it didn't hurt yet. Perhaps he had not actually seen you.

You kept your eyes on him for the rest of the hearing, hoping to gain his attention – to no avail. When the entire farce of a hearing was ended, you tried to call out to Aemond, but he disappeared amongst the crowd of people.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding you, much to your frustration. It is why you were glad to hear that Viserys had requested to have his entire family join him for dinner. Before Aemond could protest or find another place at the table, you occupied the seat next to him, hoping it would force him into acknowledging you.

It did not work.

Despite being sat right beside him, Aemond made no move to speak to you or even look in your direction. He was actively ignoring your presence, and it would be a lie to say it did not cut you deeply.

It remained that way for most of the night. At one point, he actually turned his chair away from you to watch Jace and Helaena dance. It wasn’t until after his toast to your cousins and the scuffle which followed that he acknowledged your existence.

Everyone but you was on their feet, a few guards held Jace and Luke back as Aemond stared your father down. For a brief second he glanced in your direction, a second that felt like a lifetime, then he turned, hummed to himself in annoyance, and strutted out of the room. Without thinking about it, you rose to your feet and followed him out, ignoring the stares of confusion from your father and Rhaenyra.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside Aemond's room, you raised a hand, intending to knock, but decided against it and pushed the door open. The two of you never knocked in the past, why should it be any different now?

Aemond was sitting in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand resting on the arm while he cracked the knuckles of his other hand. He paused when you entered and tilted his head slightly to see you with his right eye. Once he confirmed it was you, he turned back to the fireplace, not acknowledging you at all.

You scoffed and looked around the room, spotting a gold chalice and some wine sitting on a high table on the opposite side of the room. You walked over to it and filled the chalice before approaching Aemond. He finally lifted his head to look at you when you held out the cup for him.

“What are you doing here?” the smoothest Valyrian danced off his tongue as he accepted the wine from you.

You smirked and raised a brow. “He speaks,” you said, “I was beginning to fear that you had taken a sacred vow of silence. One that only applies to me, of course.”

He scoffed and took a sip of the wine, ignoring your comment. Despite his attempts to pretend you didn’t exist, you did not miss the way his body tensed as you sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Your Valyrian has improved.” Improved was an understatement. His accent was perfect.

Aemond shook his head and downed the drink before rising to his feet. “‘Tis impolite to enter one’s chambers without first knocking,” he said, his back to you.

The hostility was less amusing now and increasingly annoying. “You’ve grown bitter,” you narrowed your eyes at him from where you were seated.

He turned to face you and cocked his head to the side, “I’d like to think I’ve grown honest.”

“It was unnecessary,” you said, referring to his toast.

He smirked when he caught on to what you were talking about. “It was fun.”

You cracked a smile at that and Aemond’s lip twitched, his eye gleaming. Slowly, you pushed yourself off the chair and walked closer to him. He didn’t even flinch when you came so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“You don’t talk as much you used to,” you whispered, your tone sad “You don’t smile either.”

He seemed so…guarded. He was looking at you like you were some kind of predator that he had to protect himself from. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but feared how he might react.

“Much has changed,” he said with the tiniest shrug, “It has been six years.”

Six years of yearning, you wanted to say.

Time had passed, it was true, but that did not explain why he felt so far from you. Or why he’d been ignoring you since you arrived. Bonds like the one you shared are not so easily damaged, nor broken.

“You have changed,” you said, eyeing him in the least discreet way possible.

He too drank you in unashamedly, taking his time from the bottom of your embroidered silk dress, to the top of your silvery-white, curly hair, before finally meeting your gaze. He looked seconds away from saying something, or doing something, but then he caught himself and shook his head.

“As have you,” he chose to say instead. The words came out steady, but when you glanced down, his fists were clenched tight. You reached out to take his hand and he moved back.

"Why are you being like this?" you snapped, though you never raised your voice, "What have I done to upset you?"

He was taken aback by your straightforward question. His plan had been to maintain a wary distance from you until you left again. He did not want to dig into memories of the past...but he couldn't deny you answers when you looked at him with such desperate and confused eyes.

He licked his lips and confessed two words, "You left."

You stepped back in surprise. That was it? Of all the things you may have done to earn such a cold reception from him, leaving him all those years ago never once crossed your mind.

"What?" you practically spluttered.

“You abandoned me,” he reiterated.

“Aemond, you can’t possibly be angry with me over that,” you smiled nervously though you were confused, “You must know I had no intention of leaving you.”

His voice was measured, unemotional. “And yet, you did.”

“I was a child. I could not have prevented them from taking me anymore than you could have.”

He was unconvinced and looked away from you.

“Aemond.”

He didn't respond.

“Aemond, would you look at me.” You grabbed his chin to force him into facing you. With reluctance, he met your gaze.

“My mother had just died. And seeing you hurt that night, pained me more than standing at her funeral,” you whispered it like a dark secret, “That is how deeply I care for you.”

Aemond was stubborn – more so than you – but his features softened at your admission.

The day he woke to find that you had left was the worst pain he had ever felt. He'd been inconsolable for weeks, even attempting to fly Vhagar to Dragonstone and bring you home. But when the tears dried and the irrational thoughts quieted, Aemond came to understand what he had to do to move on. He chose to forget the things he had lost. He chose to forget you.

Despite what you’ve admitted, you do not look away from him shyly, or run away in embarrassment. You keep your gaze steady so that he knows your heart is true.

Your voice trembles slightly as you lower your hand from his chin and ask, “Do you understand?”

He hesitates before nodding slowly. Not once since the day you left had he allowed himself to imagine that you might say anything like that. He spent years hating that you were his weakness. Resenting the fact that years later, he still felt the ache of missing you when he lay in bed at night and you were not there beside him.

And even though he successfully hid his true feelings from everyone else, he could never fool himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night,” he muttered so quietly that it was as if he was speaking to himself, “When I do, this,” he points to his eye patch, “is not the loss I mourn. It is you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You cared for me?”

“I breathed for you,” he said, then dropped his gaze to the floor in embarrassment, “I fear I still do.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, "Aemond, why would that be something to fear?"

He looked up from the ground and met your eyes with an intensity that made your smile falter. Your heart began to race as he took a step closer, and almost instinctively you moved to him.

He raised a hand to the side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. Then he let his hand fall to your cheek where he stroked it gently and lightly brushed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You sighed and leaned into his touch, raising a hand to his and holding it just where he cradled your face.

"I fear it," he started as he looked over your face, committing every detail of it to his memory, "because you will not stay. And you are not mine."

"Now is not then," you whispered, "If you want me, Aemond...then I am yours."

With that, he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours as he paused to take in your scent – sweet and earthy – before capturing them in a kiss. He knew that after this there was no returning to what once was. There would be no 'forgetting' this time. He knew this, and he eagerly accepted it.

His hands gripped your waist. You pulled him closer, wanting – no, needing to disappear into him. His scent, his touch, his kiss. It was dizzying, euphoric, and you fell into him happily.

"We must stop," you breathed between kisses, "Anyone could find us."

Aemond didn't respond as he chased your lips fervently.

"We must stop," you repeated, this time gently pushing away from him. You stopped to gather your thoughts, one hand pressed against his heaving chest. You could not look at him, no. If you did, you feared you would not leave this room again.

"We ought to return to the table," you said as you began walking to the door, "You and I have been gone for too long, they will begin to search for us."

You waited by the door until you heard Aemond's footsteps follow behind you. He stopped beside you, one hand on the door handle.

"You'll stay this time," the familiar lilt at the end of a question being asked was missing, but the hesitance in his voice and the pleading look in his eye showed he was asking.

You slipped your hand into his, just as you had done so many times as children, and with conviction answered, "I promise."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you returned to the dinner table, most of the food had already been cleared away. Luke, Jace and your sisters were dressed in their cloaks and being escorted outside by the guards while your father and Rhaenyra spoke to Alicent and Otto.

You shared a confused glance with Aemond before approaching the four.

“What is happening?”

Your father's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. “Come,” he motioned you over, “Your things are already in the carriage outside.”

“In the carriage?” you frowned, “What for? Where are we going?”

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, "Back to Dragonstone."

“But we've only just arrived,” you chuckled, "Why the hurry to leave?"

An answer was not given, but Rhaenyra's quick glance over your shoulder to Aemond said it all.

“We never intended to stay long,” she offered instead.

Your father motioned you over once again, “Say your farewells then go and get Senryr.”

The request came out like a man ordering his pup to fetch his shoe. He had no sympathy for the position he was forcing you into yet again, and did not care to pretend to show compassion to you. His daughter. It did nit make you sad, it made you angry.

“No.”

Daemon reacted as though you had just slapped him across the cheek.

“What?”

You stepped back to stand by Aemond's side. “I said no,” you repeated, jutting out your chin, “You cannot make me leave, Father. Not again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I am not asking, Y/N,” he spoke slowly, “You will do as I say.”

It used to terrify you when he spoke in that intimidating tone, even though you knew your father would never harm you.

Perhaps that knowledge is what gave you the courage to say, “I am not leaving.”

Daemon was not often challenged, especially not by his children. He'd known from a young age that of all his children, you had inherited the worst of his temper. Your defiance was not only aggravating, it was insulting.

He stepped towards you, but before he could take another, Aemond moved in front of you protectively. The bold action stunned everyone in the room — including yourself.

Aemond was a good few decades younger than Daemon and therefore little challenge to your father. His wordless threat only indicated one of three things: stupidity, arrogance, or...

You ignored the suspicious looks thrown between you and Aemond as you placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. He broke his stare down with your father and looked down at you. Upon seeing the pleading look in your eyes, he stepped back to your side but remained close enough that your arm was still brushing against his.

Daemon was seething. He could see what was happening right before his eyes. Many years back when you'd refused to return to Dragonstone, it was because of Aemond. All those proposals you had turned down were because of Aemond. Even your excitement to return to King's Landing – it was because of Aemond.

He'd known all along, but he'd never spoken it aloud, thinking it beneath him to even entertain the idea that his eldest daughter cared for a Hightower – be him Targaryen or not. But how could he ignore it when it was being thrown in his face like this?

"He," he nodded his head to Aemond, "is the reason you want to remain here?"

Rhaenyra quickly stepped in to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for this," she looked directly at you as she spoke before turning to Alicent, "I will see the children back to Dragonstone, then I shall return on dragon back."

That barely seemed to satisfy Daemon. And if Rhaenyra was suggesting that she could return and convince you to leave, she would be in for a surprise. Alicent was the only one who seemed happy with this solution. She embraced Rhaenyra with a regretful smile as Daemon walked towards you.

Your body stiffened as he approached. He glared at Aemond before looking down to address you, "You may not have to choose today, but you will soon."

He gave you a long look before placing his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister and turning to leave the room. Deep down, you knew he was right. Your Uncle was fading fast, and once he was gone, lines would be drawn and sides would have to be chosen. You only hoped that you had some time before then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was difficult to part with your sisters after growing so close over the years. You would miss not having them around, but you knew they would never stay. They still hated Aemond for what happened that fateful night years ago, and neither could understand why or how you were able to forgive him. You didn't know how to tell them that to you, there had been nothing to forgive.

You remained by Aemond's side as Alicent showed you to your chambers, each of you like the other's shadow. Alicent was walking ahead of you and when she noticed you trailing behind, she stopped and turned to look at you both.

She raised a brow as she looked between you. "Aemond, I believe your room is down the other way," she pointed to the hallway leading in the opposite direction to where you were heading.

Aemond glanced at the hallway, then to you, and back to his mother. He seemed lost.

She ushered him away, "You may have spent your younger years sleeping in each others' beds, but there will be no more of that."

He nodded once and gave you a final look before walking off to his own chambers. You followed Alicent to the end of the hall where you parted ways at your room.

She was barely gone two minutes when you heard a knock at the door. You knew who it was before you even opened it. Aemond stood there under your door frame, his shoulders hunched slightly, no doubt feeling guilty for defying his mother.

You didn't say a word, you simply stepped aside to let him in. He kicked the door closed with his foot and moved closer, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand.

"I want to sleep here with you. If you'll have me."

You turned and walked to a table at the other end of the room. You removed your bracelets, earrings and necklace and placed them on the table. Brushing your hair to the side, you looked over your shoulder at Aemond.

"Can you help me with these laces?"

He looked unsure at first before following you. His fingers trailed along your hip before finding the two laces and undoing them for you. There was a pause as he debated what to do next, then he stepped away and sat down on your bed just by your pillow.

You chuckled to yourself at his level of restraint and removed the sleeves of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. Stepping out of the dress, you could feel Aemond’s eyes on you as you removed the pins and ties in your hair and placed them on the table by your jewellery. There was no seduction in your actions. You were simply undressing, and he was simply watching you do it.

When you turned to look at Aemond, he had already kicked off his shoes and was now leaning against your headboard. He sat up when he saw you approaching, his gaze never wavering. There was so much love in his eyes, but it didn't make you shy, it made your heart race. You stopped when you were standing between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“How come you let your hair grow so long?” you asked as you ran your hand through his long, white locks. He didn’t answer, however. His eye was focused on something else.

His hand slid the hem of your slip higher up your thigh as his brow furrowed in concern. “What caused this?” he asked as he traced his fingers over two jagged scars on your knee and up your thigh.

“Senryr,” you sighed at the feeling of his touch, “She clawed me when I went to claim her. Tore my favourite dress to shreds.”

“Why did you go alone?” he asked, tracing higher to the very tip of the scar on your hip, “She could have killed you.”

You smiled as you looked down at him. “You claimed Vhagar alone,” he looked up at you as you gently stroked his jaw with your finger, “Perhaps if you’d been there to teach me, she never would have hurt me.”

He laughed then. A low, quiet one, but a laugh nonetheless. It lit up his entire face and made his eye sparkle. You felt your heart swell at seeing him so happy, so content.

You climbed over him and into the bed, slipping underneath the blanket, "Are you going to undress?"

He shook his head and climbed in after you, "I'm comfortable like this."

He lay facing you, his arm resting on your waist as he drew circles on the small of your back over your satin slip. You raised a hand to his cheek and touched the bottom of his scar.

"It wounded me when you ignored me today," you said to distract yourself from the question you wanted to ask.

Aemond chuckled, "That was the intention when I did it."

You rolled your eyes and giggled, but your gaze returned to his eyepatch. What did it look like under there? Aemond noticed your furrowed brows and understood what was playing on your mind.

Your hand hovered over the eyepatch, "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded quickly, and removed it before he could change his mind.

A deep blue gem in the place where his left eye used to be. A sapphire, glimmering in the candlelight.

"Beautiful," you whispered absentmindedly as you stroked his cheek just below the sapphire eye.

He softened and pulled you closer to him, placing a light kiss on your lips. You curled into him and tucked your head under his chin, releasing a deep sigh.

Aemond's hand found yours under the blankets, and he smiled when you threaded your fingers together. There wasn't much he wanted to say. He just needed to be here with you, listening to your quiet breathing and feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

[tkwrites]

Worth the Wait - Quinn Hughes x ofc

photos from pinterest

Title: Worth the Wait

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mentions of a dead mother. Mostly, it’s fluff.

Summary: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on their second date.  

Word count: 5,500

Comments: This one is a little long, but I felt like all the parts were needed to flesh out the characters the way I wanted. I hope you enjoy! 

Part 2 is being planned as we speak!

Worth the Wait

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Hey Sarah, I just wanted to let you know we’re headed out on the road, so I’ll be out of town for the next week. 

Quinn sent this message before boarding the plane. He’d never done something like this before - tell someone he was interested in that he wouldn’t be home. He didn’t want Sarah to think he was ignoring her, or putting off their next date. 

Can I see you when you get back? 

Definitely, he sent, a giddy, effervescent feeling in his stomach.

The following evening, for the first time in her life, Sarah sat down to watch a hockey game. 

Eunice was in their living room, anxiously awaiting the start of the game. Currently watching people talk about betting odds in her Canucks t-shirt, a stuffed orca on the cushion next to her. 

Sarah had lived with Eunice for a little over a year. They were friends in the way two people coming together for convenience could be friends. She was nice and sweet, and made the best mac & cheese Sarah had ever eaten. She was also dramatic and had a borderline obsessive love for many things, including the Canucks. Sarah had never paid much attention to that particular obsession, as it didn’t cross over into her life, until now. 

“You okay?” Eunice asked when Sarah sat down.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You never watch hockey with me, I thought maybe you were sad or something.” 

“Oh, no, my project is done, so I’m free for the night and thought I’d join.” 

Eunice squealed and threw her arms around Sarah, “I’m so excited to introduce you to the best sport in the world!”

Feeling instantly overwhelmed, Sarah put on a brave face, and watched as the national anthem began to play. The camera scanned over the players, 5 stood separate from the others in a line, and her heart jumped into her throat when Quinn’s face came across the screen. He looked impassively at the camera. He seemed so different than when they had met, determined and competitive, not so quiet and interested. It was strange to reconcile the two as the same person. 

“What does the C mean?” 

“It means he’s the captain. That’s Quinn Hughes. He’s like, the best defenseman in the league.” 

"Isn't he a little small to play defense?" Sarah asked, surprised. 

Eunice looked personally affronted. "Hughes is an amazing skater, which is the most important thing in being a good defenseman. Defense in Hockey is more tactical than super physical." 

When the game finally began, Sarah was instantly overwhelmed. They moved so quickly, and it was damn near impossible for her to keep track of the puck. There were terms being thrown around by the commentators that were so niche, she didn’t even know where to begin figuring them out.

“What’s icing?” she asked when there was a commercial break. 

“So, it’s when a team shoots the puck to the other end of the rink, but no one is there to receive it.” 

She knew that wasn’t quite right. There were plenty of times before the break when that very thing happened, but no icing was called, and couldn’t the goalie receive it and negate that altogether? 

“And there’s no out of bounds?” 

“Nope. Just the rink. You can get penalized for shooting the puck over the glass though.” 

The game continued, and after a scuffle, Quinn skated off to sit by himself. 

“Why is he there?” 

“He got a penalty. High sticking,” Eunice said without any additional explanation. 

The announcers replayed the offense in slower motion, showing how in the midst of a play, Quinn had accidentally hit another player in the jaw with his stick. 

“That doesn’t seem like it should be a penalty when it was an accident,” Sarah said. The other guy wasn’t even bleeding.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s part of the game. Keep control of your stick all the time.” 

The camera moved back to Quinn in the little cell. He removed his helmet and rubbed a towel over his face and hair before replacing it.

Eunice sighed dramatically, “God, he’s so hot.” 

Sarah had to agree. He did look hot - supremely so. Flushed and sweaty, it was difficult to keep her mind off imagining him in her bed like that.

“Wait, why is it 4 against 5?” Sarah asked as the game began again. 

“Cause Hughes got a penalty,” Eunice said, as if this was all the explanation Sarah should need. 

Sarah stopped asking questions. Every time Eunice had tried to explain something in the past, she would get so excited, she would leave out key points, or assume Sarah had background knowledge she didn’t, and Sarah would end up even more confused. She often had to look up whatever they were talking about after their conversation anyway. 

The period ended, and Eunice left the living room. 

Sarah continued reading the article about the basics of hockey she had pulled up on her phone at the last commercial break. She wished she could watch with someone who would patiently explain each rule as it passed in the game. She had learned Football from her dad that way. Maybe Quinn could explain it to her. 

“Okay, so what’s really up?” Eunice asked when she returned, plopping back down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of caramels.  

“What do you mean?” 

Holding up one finger, she said, “you’re watching hockey with me,” she held up a second, “you’re trying to understand it,” a third finger went up, “and you’re, like, actually interested in sports?” 

“I’m interested in sports,” Sarah defended. “We’re a football family. My uncle coached.” 

“Whatever,” she waved her hand dismissively, “it’s a dumb American sport anyway.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes, but didn’t take the bait. 

“All I’m saying is that we’ve lived together for over a year, and you have never, not once, expressed any kind of interest in Hockey and I want to know what changed.”

The commercials ended and the camera cut to someone interviewing Quinn, who was in his full kit sans helmet. He answered questions in the same quiet, methodical way he had answered her on their date. Only this time, he said a lot of words without actually saying much of anything. 

Sarah chewed on her lip. 

“Did you finally discover how hot hockey players are?” Eunice teased.

“I don’t -” Sarah cut off, pushing a breath out her nose in frustration. 

She was about to tell Eunice that hot guys were not the only reason she watched sports, only to realize that that’s precisely what she was doing. 

“I met him,” she finally admitted. 

“You met who?” 

“Quinn,” Sarah said, gesturing to the TV. 

“Met? You MET Quinn Hughes?” Eunice asked, turning in slow motion to look at Sarah. “When?!” 

Sarah started, “on Monday.”

“Where? What? How?” Eunice demanded, her voice getting progressively louder with each word. 

“He came into the aquarium, asked some questions after one of my talks, and then asked if I wanted to get lunch.” 

“He asked you to lunch?” Eunice repeated. 

“Yeah, we went to get bao.” 

“Like on a date?” 

“I think so. I mean, he paid, and he got my phone number aft-”

“Quinn Hughes asked you for your phone number,” Eunice thundered, “and you didn’t think to tell me about it?” 

It probably wasn’t the right time for Sarah to point out that she and Eunice really didn’t have that kind of a relationship. In fact, Sarah hadn’t told anyone but Beth, her best friend from back home, who had been thrilled Sarah had finally met a good guy.

“Sorry,” Eunice said, settling on the couch like a proper lady in a period drama, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out.” 

Sarah wasn’t sure how she should react. She hadn’t intended on telling Eunice at all, worried - justly, it turned out - that she would freak.  

“But oh my fucking God,” Eunice yelled, throwing her hands up and breaking her posture to flop dramatically into a slouch. 

“What’s going on?” Jane asked, leaning in the door frame, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Quinn Hughes asked Sarah for her phone number,” Eunice declared, gesturing to Sarah as if she were the reason Jane was up early before her graveyard shift, not her own yelling. 

Jane perked awake, “really?” 

“Yeah,” Eunice said, sounding like a petulant teenager.  

“Oh my God. I didn’t think this was a big deal,” Sarah said, putting her head in her hands. 

“That the most eligible bachelor in the whole city of Vancouver asked you for your number? I’d say that’s a pretty big fuckin deal.” 

“He’s just a guy, Eunice.”

“I’d beg to differ," Jane cut in. “It is a pretty big deal.” 

“So he’s not a guy?”

Both women rolled their eyes at her. 

“Of course he’s a guy,” Eunice said, exasperated. 

“But he’s not ‘just’ a guy,” Jane said, air quotes and all. “He’s a little more than that, I think.” 

“Why? Because he’s a professional athlete?” 

“Yeah. And millions of women across the world want to marry him.”

“He’s handsome and all, but I can’t believe that’s true,” Sarah said. “Do millions of women even watch hockey?” 

At the fierce glares she received from both of her Canadian roommates, Sarah held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Maybe millions of women watch hockey, and some of them find him attractive. But for my purposes, he’s just a guy. He was just a guy on our date.” 

“It's not about you,” Jane said. 

Sarah raised her eyebrows in a challenge. 

“What we mean is that it’s a big freaking deal that Quinn asked for your number.” 

She reeled back, “Is it so hard to believe that he would be attracted to me?” 

“No!” they both shouted, Eunice exasperated while Jane was horrified. 

“Of course he’s attracted to you. Look at you.”

“I think what Eunice means is that Quinn Hughes has celebrity status in this city, and so him asking for your number means that he saw something really special in you. Women throw themselves at him every day.” 

Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“It’s like, a major, major compliment,” Eunice said. 

Biting her tongue, Sarah resisted the urge to tell her that it was a major compliment if anyone asked for her number, celebrity status or not. 

“So, are you going out again?” Eunice asked, sitting back down on the couch. 

“I mean, we said we would, but he’s out of town until next week, so I guess we will when he gets back?” 

“Oh man,” Eunice said, leaning back in her seat. “You are living such a fanfiction right now.” 

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes. 

Jane yawned. “I’m going back to bed. I have to be at the hospital at 2 in the morning.” 

“I’m sorry we woke you up,” Sarah said. 

Shaking her head, Jane smiled. “I’m glad Quinn saw the same things the rest of us do. If anyone deserves a fanfiction love story, it’s you.”

Heat raced into her cheeks, and Sarah smiled, turning back to the TV as the game began again. 

“I cannot believe this,” Eunice said, picking up the stuffed whale to clutch in her hands. “You’ve got to introduce me to Kuzmenko.” 

“Who?” 

A few nights later, Quinn was slipping into a dinner booth in St. Louis when his phone pinged with a message. 

Hey, I don't know what your schedule is next week, but The Electric is showing the Star Wars movies starting Sunday if you want to catch one together?

His heart jumped into his throat so fast, he made a sort of gasping choking nose that had Elias clapping him on the back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Quinn said, clearing his throat. 

“Who is that from?” Petey asked quietly. 

Quinn was suddenly overwhelmingly thankful that he wasn’t sitting next to anyone else, who surely would have made a big scene of announcing that he got a text about a date to everyone in the near vicinity. Petey knew he preferred his privacy, and always respected that. 

“Remember that girl I was telling you about last week? The one from the aquarium?” 

His eyebrows shot up, “that’s her?” he asked, nodding at the phone.

Quinn nodded. 

As Elias watched, Quinn pulled up their practice and game schedules. 

Sounds awesome. I’m back in town Wednesday and free on Thursday or Saturday nights. 

Almost immediately, the icon of her typing appeared. His heart began to hammer a little harder, pulsing in his throat in that nervous, I-can’t-wait-to-talk-to-her way he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Thursday is The Empire Strikes Back, so I’m guessing that’s our choice. Unless you’d rather see the Force Awakens on Saturday?

Thursday is great.

Cool. I’ll get us tickets. Showtime is at 7 and they have a special menu for dinner and drinks at 6. 

Sounds great.

It was as simple as that. Quinn had never had a date planned so smoothly. 

Her text bubble popped up again, before going away. He gulped some of his nervousness down. 

When he clicked off the screen and looked at Elias, he found the other man smiling at him knowingly. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t think she existed.” 

“Sarah? You thought I was making her up?” 

Petey rolled his eyes, “No. I didn’t think the girl you always talk about wanting to date existed. But she’s right there,” he gestured to Quinn’s phone. 

Feeling his cheeks flush, Quinn shrugged to deflect the wave of sincere agreement that washed over him by busing himself with the menu. 

Leaving her last class, Sarah was beyond thankful to leave campus and go home. She was exhausted to the bone. It had been a hard week of studying and midterms. On top of that, nervous, excited energy was buzzing under her skin in anticipation of her date with Quinn that evening. 

When she got home and finally pulled her phone from her bag, she found a missed call from him. Stomach dropping, worry billowed into her thoughts like smoke. He was probably calling to say he couldn’t come. Why else would he call when they’d only texted so far?

 Rapid fire, her thoughts rifled through friends that might want to come to the movie before she snapped back to herself. This was her anxiety talking. It wasn’t the truth.

Taking the time to pull in a few deep breaths, she told herself he could be calling about something other than canceling. It took eight breaths before she felt calm enough to call him back.

The phone rang three times before he answered. “Hey.”

“Hi, sorry I missed you earlier, I was in my last midterm.” 

 “I’m sorry,” he said, wincing. That was one thing he didn’t miss about college. There wasn’t a lot, but the pressure of midterms and finals were something he was happy to live the rest of his life without. 

“Well, it’s done now, so I’m just excited to take a nap.” 

He laughed. 

“So what’s up?” she asked, trying, and failing, to not sound nervous. 

“I wondered where I should pick you up tonight,” he said. 

Relief sighed through her legs and she sunk onto the bed. “I was planning to meet you there.” 

“I can come pick you up,” he offered. There was no need for her to take the train when he could drive them. 

This was always an awkward conversation, but one she’d constructed with her therapist to ease her anxiety. If someone didn’t respect this, it was a sure sign she didn’t want to date them. “Quinn, you seem like a great guy, but I don’t want you to pick me up. I don’t know you very well.” 

A long pause passed over the phone. She wondered if she was going to have to explain this concept to him. 

Honestly, Quinn hadn’t heard that line in a long time. He knew from friends that women often did this to protect themselves, but something about his presence in the media made women trust him implicitly. He hadn’t taken advantage of that - he would never - but it had infiltrated his thoughts before, how easy it would be. 

She stood up for herself, and kept herself safe, and he respected her for that. “That makes sense,” he said.

It was so much easier than she’d been expecting, that Sarah had a hard time coming up with words.

“So I’ll meet you there?” he said when she didn’t say anything. 

“Great.”

“What time?” 

“Dinner starts at 6, so I figured like 6:15?” 

“Great. I’ll meet you out front?” 

“Sounds great.” 

They said some pleasant goodbyes and she flopped back on the bed. Karma was really seeing this one though. Nice, interested, a bit nerdy, and respectful, not to mention handsome, Sarah had hardly allowed herself to dream up a guy like Quinn. And now, here he was, suddenly in her life. A feeling like she’d just drunk champagne began to fizz in her stomach. A smile spread over her face as she hugged her pillow and set an alarm.  

Walking up to the theater, Quinn wiped his hands on his jeans, hoping he wasn’t about to revert back into a teenage boy with sweaty palms. He had to pee again. Nerves always shrunk his bladder. It hadn't happened in a game since he was ten, but other places - getting on a stage, press conferences, dates - always made him nervous. 

The theater was an old fashioned, stand alone cement building. A ticket booth complete with marquee lights sat between two sets of French doors. Sarah was already there, leaning against the wall, looking up at the building across the street. It surprised him she wasn't on her phone.

“Hey,” he said as he got closer. 

“Hi,” she said, meeting his eyes with a smile that made his stomach ache. Her lips were darker, making them stand out a little more. His eyes were drawn to them like a magnet. 

She slipped her arms around his neck for a hug. It felt so natural this time as he pulled her into his chest. 

As she broke away, she asked, “ready?”

He nodded, and she walked over to the ticket window, “I have a reservation for two under Roberts.”

The teenager working looked up from his phone. His gaze drifted past her. “You’re Quinn Hughes,” he said, mouth falling open.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. 

“Hey, what’s up man?” Quinn said as if someone hadn’t just told him who he was. 

The employee - who couldn’t have been more than sixteen - was still staring at Quinn, even when he didn’t say anything else. 

“You’re coming to the show tonight?” he finally asked. 

Sarah had never felt so looked over in her life. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She would never want that kind of attention, but there was common decency not being met here. 

“We’re trying to,” she said, not unkindly, nudging him back to her reservation. 

The boy started. He blinked a few times before he said, “sorry, what was the name?” 

“Sarah Roberts.”

As they walked into the foyer. The ticket clerk slipped out of the booth, and came up to them, “hey man, I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I get an autograph? My girlfriend is a huge fan.” 

Quinn nodded, and reached for the paper and pen he held out. 

“Thanks so much, enjoy your show!” 

As soon as they turned around, a harried looking woman with flyaway strawberry blonde hair came rushing up to them. “Mr. Hughes, we’re so glad you can be with us tonight.” Apparently, Mr. “you’re Quinn Hughes” had spread the news. 

He gave her a polite smile. 

“I just wanted to let you know, we upgraded your reservations to one of our more private love seats in the back.”

“That’s very nice, but it’s not necessary,” he said, feeling embarrassed. Sarah was never going to go out with him again if their first date was under this much of a microscope. 

“Oh, no,” she said with a strained smile, “I insist.” 

Sarah looked up at him, wondering what was going to happen here. 

“Well, thank you,” he said, knowing that arguing would only draw more attention. So far, the other patrons were ignoring them, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“Let me show you to your new seats.” She led them to a plush couch tucked into the back of the theater. No neighbors and a perfect view of the screen. No one would even need to walk in front of them to get to the bar or the bathroom. 

“Thanks so much,” Sarah said. 

The woman walked away, and she turned to Quinn with wide eyes, “that was wild.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, his hand going to the back of his neck. 

“Does that happen a lot?”

He shrugged, “sometimes. Most people are pretty cool, though.” 

“I actually thought about reserving this, but it was like triple the price, and I’m on a grad school budget, so…” she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she clasped her hands together.

“The seats we had before would have been great,” he said, “people make a fuss.” He knew this woman was probably hoping he would share the theater on his social media, but finding a place like this was hard enough. He didn’t want to ruin that by announcing it to the world. 

Desperate to change the subject, he said, “Thanks for finding this. I didn’t know it was even here.” 

“I didn’t either,” Sarah admitted, deciding they may as well enjoy the upgrade and sat down on the sofa. It was plush microfiber - incredibly soft to the touch - and very comfortable. It wasn’t like she was going to demand they go back to the standard seats she’d booked.

“How did you find it, then?” he asked, sitting next to her. 

“I overheard someone talking about it on the train and looked it up. It looked cool, so here we are.” 

He smiled at her, and her heart did a karate kick into her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath. 

They made their way to the bar to order dinner and drinks. Everything was on theme, including Sarah’s cocktail that came out glowing bright blue with smoke billowing off the surface. She laughed, looking truly delighted with it. It made Quinn want to kiss her. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about that since they’d met, but something about the pure joy in her face when the bartender handed it over made the impulse even stronger. 

The problem, she soon discovered, with the couch arrangement was the fact that their food and drinks ended up on the end tables - on opposite sides of the couch, making it nearly impossible to eat and have a conversation the way she wanted to. 

After turning around for her drink for the third time, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Here, will you hold this?” she asked, handing him her glass. 

Quinn accepted it and watched as she put her plate on the table, and moved it in front of the couch. She then tucked herself around it, and sat facing him, with one of her legs bent at the knee between them. 

“At least for now,” she said, taking her drink back and setting it on the relocated table. 

Quinn smiled. He never would have moved that table - too afraid to upset someone. He admired Sarah’s willingness to solve the issue at hand. 

Her drink was still smoking when he set his beer bottle next to it. She'd let out the most adorable giggle with the first sip, scrunching her nose at the feel of the smoke. 

“So, what made you choose Vancouver?” he asked, “I’m sure there are places in the States where you can study Marine Zoology.” 

She was instantly impressed that he remembered her degree. Most people got the marine part right, but assumed she was a biologist.  

“That’s kind of a long, complicated story, but basically, my mom died a year and a half ago and -” 

He cut in, “I’m sorry, Sarah.” 

“Thank you,” she gave him a sad smile. 

“Anyway, there’s a little more to it, but I ended up here because my uncle lives here. I wanted to study the ocean, but I had to be close to family, and the only family I had close to the ocean was here, so that kind of made my decision for me.”

Bracing herself for sympathy, she looked into his eyes, only to find a more open, understanding expression on his handsome face. “That sucks about your mom. My dad lost his mom when I was like two, and he still talks about how hard it was. I know it was really devastating for him. I can't imagine how it felt for you." 

She was so young - too young. She’d been his age. Even considering how long he'd been living away from his parents, it would be awful to lose his mom. She was the person he called for almost everything.

Tears pricked at her lower lashes. She blinked them away, busying herself with her drink to shut down that topic of conversation. 

He laughed when her nose scrunched up again. 

“I promise it’s really good,” she said, giggling, “the smoke just tickles.” 

“Sure,” he teased, then added, "it's actually really cute."

Her gaze caught on the amused set of his mouth, and lingered there for a beat too long. Tearing her eyes away, she asked, “what about you? Why Vancouver?” 

“Well, I was drafted here,” he said after swallowing his bite of salad. 

“So you didn’t have a choice?” 

“Yes and no. I toured and interviewed with a lot of clubs, and I liked it here along with a few other places. They knew how I felt, so they knew it would probably be a good fit. But the draft is always kind of a gamble. My brothers both went to New Jersey, which is pretty unheard of.” 

“Your brothers play hockey too?” 

He nodded. 

“How many of you are there?” 

“Just the three of us,” he said, “and a whole mess of cousins. What about you?” 

“I have an older sister and an older brother. They still live in Nevada, and they both have a bunch of kids. My brother married my sister's best friend, so they’re all really, really close.” 

She said it with a kind of sadness that Quinn knew well: a specific feeling that stemmed from your siblings being together while you were apart. Even though everyone was doing good things, it was still lonely to be the odd man out. 

“I get that,” he said. “My brothers live together in Jersey, and my grandad’s there too, so I feel pretty separate sometimes.”

It was strange to Sarah how much they had in common. Both from families of three siblings, both in Vancouver because of a mix of circumstance and choice, both understood familial loss to at least some extent. She had never met a man like him. 

The bartender announced the movie would start in 5 minutes. 

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she said. “Do you need anything on my way back?”

He shook his head. 

When she came back to their little corner of the theater, she found a refreshed drink on the end table. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Of course.” 

The movie started and it was instantly calming to her. Being there with Quinn felt like a special treat, like something out of a daydream.

When she lay her hand, palm up, in the small bit of love seat between them, Quinn was quick to pick it up, entwining their fingers. It felt a bit like he was fourteen again, just excited to hold a girl’s hand. He wanted to touch her all the time, but knew they weren’t there yet. He couldn’t wait to get to the point in the relationship when he could rest his hand on her thigh, or put an arm around her shoulders without it being a big deal. It felt so close, he could almost taste it. 

Leaning progressively closer throughout the movie, Quinn finally put his arm around her. He had to stop himself from celebrating when she rested her head on his shoulder. 

When the movie started winding down, Quinn began to wonder how exactly the end of the night was going to go. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he didn’t want to do that in the theater or the foyer, where prying eyes and cell phone cameras were in abundance. Maybe he could ask her if they could walk to his car so he could kiss her there? Or maybe he could take her to her building's parking garage? Every way he thought about asking her sounded fucking creepy.

He was still caught in that internal debate when the movie ended and the house lights went up. How was he going to do this? He could just come out and tell her, but it made him sound paranoid and more than a little full of himself. 

“Could you walk me to the train station?” she asked, effectively ending his internal argument. 

He bit back the suggestion that he could just drive her home. “Yeah. Sure, of course,” he said. Maybe there would be a dim corner he could tuck them into and kiss her. 

The night air was cool, and humid when they stepped outside. Heart pounding, Sarah hoped he couldn’t feel it through their clasped hands. 

“You’ll have to lead the way,” he said. “I don’t really take the train.”

“No?” 

“Too many people.” 

While holding his hand was nice, Sarah’s mouth had felt empty with yearning all night. A deep longing to kiss him had been purring in her chest for over a week now, and seeing him made it rumble even louder. From the way she caught him glancing at her mouth throughout the night, it seemed like he felt the same way. 

There was a small, clean alleyway she’d spotted on her walk to the theater. As they passed it, she tugged him off the sidewalk, turned around so she could slide one hand over the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Quinn sucked in a sort of shocked breath at her forwardness. 

She pulled away just as he was registering what was happening and sinking into the kiss. 

Taking her hands back, a blush searing her cheeks, she said, “I’m sorry, that was really presumptuous of me.” Hoping she hadn't just ruined everything, She tried to not feel rejected. Had she been reading the signs wrong? 

“No,” Quinn said, his voice a little too loud. 

It was so strange to him that their physical connection, which had always been the easiest part of his past relationships, seemed to be the only thing they fumbled over. 

He cleared his throat, and slipped his hand up to cup her jaw, "no. I was just a little surprised.” 

Seeing the longing in his face when she looked into his eyes kicked hers back into gear, ready to squeal off the pavement. 

Leaning in closer, his breath caressed her lips as he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this all week.” 

A shiver raced down her spine at his confession. “Me too." 

Pulling back just slightly, he looked into her face. It felt like he was standing at the edge of the most beautiful view he'd ever seen. He couldn't wait to jump over it. 

She tipped up, and he leaned down, and when their lips met, a gentle sigh passed between them. 

There was no awkwardness, no questioning of who would tip which way, or if it was too soon for tongue. No, Sarah just took advantage between kisses, and swept her tongue into his open mouth. He responded in kind, sliding his tongue along hers. 

Her hands found their way into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer. The soft noise he gasped into her mouth made her fingertips tingle with a heady sense of satisfaction. Molten desire dripped into her veins.

Quinn let all his other thoughts fall away in favor of savoring this moment. He wanted to commit every second of it to memory. She tasted like the tart syrup used in her cocktail, and the smooth sweetness of the rum. Coupled with the vanilla, woodsy scent of her perfume, and her soft, skilled tongue, it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever experienced. He never wanted to stop. 

The world fell away. 

Then, it came crashing back. 

"Get a room!" someone yelled from the group of teenagers walking by. 

He pulled away, just enough that he could feel her panting breaths rushing over his lips. He didn't want to let the moment slip away. Not when it had been so perfect. 

"Can I make you dinner on Saturday?" he asked, still feeling a little breathless.

She paused, and he realized what he'd just implied. God, he wasn't thinking straight. 

Pulling back, he rushed to explain, "I can bring it with me to a park or something. I just want to see you again." 

A smile broke over her face, "I want to see you again, too." 

Simple, straight to the point. Quinn felt some of his anxiety drop away. 

"I'll think about where, but definitely yes to dinner." 

He beamed. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[beiibeiii]

Kafka Angst, delicious, thankyou for the food. Okay this was from 11:49-12:21 jeez im tired.

Anyways, here’s thing for you!

“…I remember one morning it was just like any other, you brought coffee and I brought sweets. I remember, you spilled a little of my coffee on the table and made a surprised sound, but despite that, you looked up at me and you laughed. Your eyes were shining in the morning light— In hindsight really.. They’d always done that. A little bit brighter, with the golden sun. That’s the moment I realized I was really truly hopelessly in love with you. I told myself it was a longer mission than usual. That’s all, and yet I couldn’t stop liking you past our little meetings in the morning. I couldn’t help but want to ask more and more about yourself, the silly, little details unrelated to Elio’s script.”

At least, that’s what Kafka would like to say to you. Instead she watched through your window as you cried. Illuminated only by moonlight. It looked as though a meteor shower might be streaking across your face— quick and bright slashes. A sky full of grief, guilt, longing. Kafka couldn’t help but vaguely wondering if you must mirror her own feelings so well. Kafka was a formidable woman, that wasn’t a secret to anyone. What she wanted, she would eventually obtain. However everything else she had taken now seemed so.. Little in comparison to you. So worthless. The one thing Kafka wanted, craved— No. The one thing she needed, she couldn’t have. You. A little bit of water splashes her face. Unsurprising, there’s thunderclouds rolling overhead. Rain was bound to come sooner or later. The water rolls down her cheek, to the corner of her mouth. It takes a moment to register in her brain it’s salty, and the rain has not yet begun to fall.

She looks down at her hands, those hands that have felled many. Her tongue, which has been used to manipulate peoples minds into showing them horrors to last a lifetime, that tongue that has spit thousands of lies. Her eyes, which have watched on as an opponent met a slow, agonizing end. The eyes that showed a frenzied glee at the suffering. How could she ever be worthy of you? The shining bright light in the universe who could never be dimmed. One so pure and precious. She felt her chest tighten in shame. She could never wash the blood from her hands, it stained her entire being. Deep in her mind, a maze to all (even herself) she knew that if given the chance to cleanse her sins, she probably would not take it.

So the Stellaron Hunter turns, quickly scaling her way down to the bustling streets before you might see that familiar shape crouching across the way. Your eyes make their way to the window as you see quick movement, but as fast as it appeared it disappears just as well. And a drop of water hits the glass. And another. Until your window is pelted with the sky’s tears, and the sidewalks are a black mass of umbrellas.

I hope this was this much 🤏 entertaining to you

WHAJHSGD ANONIE?? THIS IS SO AMAZING WAAA IDEK IF I CAN ADD TO IT BC ITS ALREADY PERFECTT!! IM GETTING FED SO WELLL SHJSSJ SOBBING KAFKA ANGST HITTING TOO HARD RN AJSJSJS SHES SO BABYYY I WANNA HUG HERR 😕💗

kafka wears gloves to try to hide the blood that has stained her hands to try to make herself feel better :(

kafka probably has you as a live wallpaper on her phone. she would press down on her phone and the short video of you on that flower field would play. your smiling brightly as the rays of the sunset glowed so beautifully on you. lighting up your smile even more. she looks at it with a bittersweet memories as she reminds herself as to why she joined the stellaron hunters - to understand herself to be a better person and see that beautiful smile on your face everyday. :(

she listens to voice messages or watches videos she has saved of you whenever shes stressed. hearing your voice and the way you smile at her clears her head. calming her down. she can't help but grow a little tired of hearing the same videos and voice recordings. shes determined to get some new ones soon. <3

whenever you post on your snapchat stories, instagram, tiktok, any social media platform, kafka is always on an anonymous account. she constantly comments sweet things under your posts.

"hope you had fun <3"

"so beautiful, like always dear 💗"

"such a pretty smile you have :)"

kafka doesnt even try to change the way she writes to make you not catch on. she likes your posts and is usually the first one to see them too. You can't help but sense the familiarity of the way the commenter writes their comments. its ever so awfully familiar as to how kafka types. you want to believe it but you know its not her :(

kafka secretly hopes you recognise that its her. she knows it won't happen, but she will still keep believing that you will <3

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 5,1k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, mxf sex, unprotected sex

✦ a/n: The epilogue's finally here! As I said before, I had to split it into a few parts because it turned out really long and I wanted to tie all loose ends lol I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'll try to keep posting twice a week. Many things will have changed in this, since it's set mostly in 1992. We will have some flashbacks, but I dated all the parts so it wouldn't get confusing. Hope you enjoy the read, feedback is welcome! ❤

December 31, 1991

San Francisco in December hit me with that familiar chill as soon as I stepped off the plane; I quickly slipped on my gloves and shrugged into my coat, letting out a sigh as the cold nipped at my nose and fogged up my breath. It felt weird being back after so long, back to the city where I'd lived, loved, and grown up all those years ago.

I’d bid farewell to San Francisco two years back when my art career started picking up steam, making the move to LA seem like the logical next step. Coming back to the city stirred up a pain that ran deep in my bones — a constant reminder of the happiness I once knew but could never quite recapture, a bittersweet flashback to all I'd experienced — and all that had slipped away.

Lars had invited friends and family for a massive bash at his vacation home, ringing in the end of the year and welcoming 1992 with a bang. I had a hunch the extravagant party had something to do with his recent divorce, after a rushed marriage which had barely lasted two years. He'd even sent his driver, Simon, to scoop me up from the airport.

It was a relief not to have to wrangle a taxi amidst the chaos of folks flying in for the last flights before New Year's Eve. Slipping into the Jaguar, I peeled off my sunglasses with a sigh; those shades had become my shield against being recognized in the last few months. Ever since I'd started doing TV gigs, getting spotted by strangers and paparazzi was becoming a regular thing. It came with the territory, sure, but sometimes, a girl just wanted a little peace and quiet.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burton," Simon greeted me with a smile as I hopped into the car, and I shot one right back at him. "Mr. Ulrich was really looking forward to your arrival."

"Thanks, Simon. Are the others already there?" I inquired, my gaze drifting out the window as we cruised away from the airport.

"Yes, Mr. Hammett and Mr. Newsted are. Mr. Hetfield will show up later; I'll swing back to get him after dropping you off. And Miss Summers won't be joining us."

I let out a sigh. Ever since Cliff had passed, Leanne had drifted away from the group, moving to another city and cutting most ties. She said it hurt too much to stick around — too many reminders of him . I got where she was coming from and harbored no hard feelings, but her absence had definitely put some distance between us over the years.

"Well, I'll have to shoot her a call later and wish her a Happy New Year," I mused absentmindedly. "Do you know if my aunt and uncle are gonna make it?"

"Yes, I'll pick them up later," Simon replied, earning a small smile from me. Despite Cliff's passing hitting us all hard, Aunt Jan and Uncle Ray had been a steady presence for me and the guys. They'd practically become like second parents to all of us over the years, always there in the Metallica routine, whether it was on the professional front or at family and friends' get-togethers.

It took us a bit to roll up to Lars' vacation home, a big old mansion tucked away in one of San Francisco’s most expensive neighborhoods, a far cry from the tiny house we used to live in back in the day. Simon pulled up at the main entrance; the door was wide open, and I caught a glimpse of the staff buzzing around, putting the final touches on the shindig. Judging by the crates of booze being unloaded, this was gonna be more than just a cozy New Year's bash with a few friends.

"Thanks for the ride, Simon," I said, grabbing my bag and popping open the car door. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Miss."

It didn't take me long to spot Lars; the moment I stepped into the foyer, there he was, barking orders to his assistant at lightning speed, champagne glass already in hand. I couldn't help but grin; classic Lars, hitting the booze before anyone else. He turned my way at the sound of my footsteps echoing on the polished floor, breaking into a smile as he strode over.

"Nore!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm so stoked you made it."

"Hey, Lars," I grinned, returning the hug. It had been a hot minute since I'd seen him or any of the guys; 1991 had been a whirlwind for all of us, and work had pretty much consumed our lives at warp speed.

"How was the trip? Did Simon take good care of you?"

"Yeah, it was smooth sailing. Simon's a pro, always has been. But seriously, Lars, you shouldn't have him grinding away on the last day of the year."

"Oh, he's getting compensated handsomely for it, don't you worry. Hey, you remember your way around the house, right? Kirk and Jason are probably chilling in the sauna. Oh, Allie!" Lars called out to his assistant, a dark-haired girl who looked eager to please. "Got the guest list handy? Can you show our girl here where she'll be crashing tonight?" Allie nodded briskly, and Lars flashed me a smile, turning back to me. "Party kicks off at 9 PM, so I'm just tying up loose ends. Make yourself comfy, grab some grub if you're hungry, alright? Consider the place your own."

I trailed after Allie to my room, a fancy suite with a king-size bed that looked like it had never been slept in. Lars always had a flair for the extravagant, but Metallica's success in recent years seemed to have kicked that into overdrive; his new vacation house was straight-up lavish, with more rooms than I could count, a massive pool, a sauna, and even a private movie theater.

I decided to chill in my room until the party kicked off; as much as I was itching to catch up with everyone, I was straight-up wiped out. Lately, I'd been craving more time alone, away from the chaos of the ragers my friends used to live for. But hey, I knew we'd all cross paths eventually, and sure enough, when I finally made my grand entrance, one of the first faces I spotted was Kirk's, rolling in with James, who apparently had arrived while I was hiding out.

"Nore!" Kirk grinned, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. "Damn, you're looking good!"

"Thanks, Kirk. It's all Lars' doing; he picked out the dress," I replied, nodding at the long red number I was sporting. I’d found it laid out on the bed in my room with a note telling me to rock it for the night. I eyed Kirk's suit, a slick navy number with gold accents. "You're looking sharp yourself."

"Yeah, that's all Lars' handiwork too. Dude's on a mission to throw the ultimate party. But hey, who am I to complain? There's champagne!" Kirk chuckled, clinking his glass against mine.

"Hey, Nore." I glanced up at the sound of his voice, meeting James' intense blue gaze. A faint smile tugged at my lips; being around him always stirred up a whirlwind of emotions that were hard to untangle. Love, sure, but also heartache. It stung, yet it felt oddly comforting. Like coming home.

"Hi, James," I greeted him softly. Kirk shot us a quick look.

“Well, I'm gonna go track down our host. Catch you guys later!" He excused himself. I watched Kirk saunter off, a slight jolt running through me as James' hand landed on the small of my back.

"Have you grabbed a bite to eat yet? Lars said you got here before me," he murmured, his voice low. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, a champagne flute in his other hand.

"Not yet."

"Want me to snag something for you? Lars went all out with the spread this time."

"I'm good, James." 

"Didn't drag your boyfriend along to the party?" he quipped, and I couldn't help but snort.

"What boyfriend?"

"That... Brian guy? I dunno, it's hard to keep up with all the dudes you've cycled through since we split," he remarked, a hint of irony dancing in his eyes. I furrowed my brow; was he joking or dead serious? It was getting tougher to read James these days.

"If you wanna know if I'm seeing someone, just ask," I shot back sharply. He let out a sardonic laugh and rolled his eyes. I held his gaze. "And what about your 'Nothing Else Matters' chick? She bailed on the party?"

"I ended things with her," he replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. "And I've told you that song wasn't about her."

"Then who was it about?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?" he growled, stepping closer. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. James and I had been locked in this dance for a while now, his anger clashing with my pain like sparks flying. It didn't shock me that Kirk wanted no part of our little reunion.

"I'm gonna go track down Lars," I tossed back dryly before strutting off. I could practically feel James rolling his eyes as he polished off the rest of his champagne in one gulp.

I didn't cross paths with James again until much later, well after midnight had come and gone. We’d all gathered on the balcony to catch the fireworks, dishing out Happy New Year wishes and hugs left and right. When the crowd filtered back inside, I lingered behind, a cigarette dangling between my fingers as I stared up at the star-studded sky, grappling with the bitter irony that another year had kicked off without Cliff here to see it.

"I did wanna know, actually," a voice cut through the silence, jolting me. I turned to find James leaning against one of the pillars, his gaze fixed on me with a serious edge.

"What?" I murmured, my heart picking up its pace as he closed the gap between us.

"You said if I wanted to know if you were seeing someone, I just had to ask. And I did wanna know," he replied, so close now I could smell the booze on his breath.

"I'm not," I answered, and he grunted, satisfied, before pulling me into his arms, his lips finding mine.

He tasted like beer and tobacco, his lips moving against mine in a familiar dance, the echoes of an old tune. No matter how much time passed or how much it hurt, James and I always found our way back to each other.

"You know that song was about you," he murmured, his kisses trailing down my neck, his grip tightening on my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together. "Do you really have to mess with me like this?"

I didn't answer; instead, I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back to me, his arms holding me tight as he kissed me with urgency, nipping at my lower lip. He wasn't holding back as he pushed me against the balcony railing, his hands hiking up the skirt of my dress, his touch igniting a fire in my belly.

"My room or yours?" I gasped against his lips.

"Does yours come with a bathroom?" he quipped, and I chuckled softly, nodding. "Figures. Lars always hooks you up with the best ones."

"Mine, then," I murmured, a faint smile playing on my lips.

We made our way up to my room, James guiding me through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms in the house with his hand in mine. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, his hands were back on me, pulling me close as his lips trailed hungrily along my neck, tugging at the straps of my dress.

"James, you're gonna wreck the dress..." I protested weakly, my fingers tangled in his hair. He grunted, yanking it down, and I heard a rip that probably meant the garment was already ruined anyway.

"I'll get you another one," he grumbled. "As many as you want."

With urgency matching his, I stripped off his shirt, a few buttons popping off and bouncing across the bedroom floor. Before I could even blink, he lifted me, depositing me on the bed and positioning himself over me. I kicked off my heels, sending them flying into some forgotten corner, releasing a low moan as he pressed against me, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. There was no time for calm contemplation, no room for hesitation or second-guessing if this was the right move; our desire for each other was insatiable, ravenous and desperate, and I felt it would consume me completely if we didn't satisfy it right then and there.

I sighed as his lips reclaimed mine, his hand tangled in my hair, gripping it firmly as I worked on unbuttoning his pants, easing them down. He pulled back for a moment, shedding the rest of his clothes before sliding off my panties, emitting a low groan as he entered me. I shut my eyes, clutching onto his arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. He wasn't holding back; and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Look at me," he growled, his hand guiding my chin as he thrust into me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my mouth slightly agape as I let out small, sharp moans. He shifted his hand to my neck, pressing his forehead against mine.

"James..." I moaned, my grip on his arms tightening as he picked up the pace, sending shivers down my spine. "James..."

"I wanna ruin you. You get that?" he growled, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body at his words. Of course, I got it. What were we if not each other's downfall? What more could I want than for him to consume me entirely, even if just for a moment? For all the pain and heartache to vanish, if only while he was inside me. "I want you to be mine, all mine, all mine... Fuck..." he buried his face in my neck as my climax washed over me, my body clenching around him, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper. "Nore..." he groaned, his own release crashing over him, filling me completely as he continued to move until the intensity of his peak forced him to collapse onto me.

He rolled away, settling beside me, leaving a pulsating void inside me where pain and pleasure danced together in my womb and heart. I shut my eyes, focusing on steadying my breath, and let out a soft chuckle when I felt his lips on my neck, his arms pulling me close in a fleeting but genuine comfort.

"My girl..." he murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I'd lost track of how many times he'd called me that, but it never failed to stir something in me. "Why do you keep running from me? Don't you know I love you so?"

I opened my eyes, locking onto his gaze, a blend of longing and yearning reflected back at me. Nestling into his embrace, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling his gaze soften into a tender warmth that sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm here now," I murmured, tracing my fingers gently over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes, intertwining our hands and pressing kisses to my palm, one, two, three times before pulling me close in a tight hug.

Peace hadn't been a frequent visitor in my life for a while, but in that moment, I found it. I'd always find my way back to James, and he'd always find his way back to me. That certainty coursed through my veins, leaving me feeling whole in a way I hadn't in ages.

The next day, we'd be back in the spotlight, the distance between us creeping back in like a toxic fog. But for now, on that night, I was content. I was at peace.

I was home.

September 28, 1986

The shrill ring of the phone pierced through the silence of the empty house, yanking me out of a deep slumber with a groan. I blinked, the heavy rain drumming against the bedroom windows registering in my foggy mind. Stretching out across the bed, I groped for James, only to remember he wasn't there; my boyfriend was off on tour with my cousin and my friends. That left just Leanne and me holding down the fort.

Dragging myself out of bed, my eyes still weighed down by sleep, I shrugged into my robe and slipped on my slippers before trudging out of the room, descending the stairs at a snail's pace. Flicking on the lights in the living room, I scowled at the clock — it wasn't even seven in the morning. This better be an important call, I grumbled inwardly. I was itching to crawl back under the covers.

"Hey," I mumbled, stifling a yawn and rubbing my eyes in an attempt to shake off the sleepiness.

"Hey, Nore," James' voice crackled through the receiver, but in my grogginess, I barely registered the tense undertone, so unlike his usual laid-back demeanor.

"Babe..." I murmured, another yawn threatening to escape. "I know you're in a different time zone, but it's way early here. I was out cold..."

"I'm sorry. I had to call," he replied, and this time, the strain in his voice didn't go unnoticed. I furrowed my brow, sinking down onto the couch beside the phone, suddenly wide awake.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. Is Leanne there with you?"

"I think she's asleep. Why?"

"We had a crash," he said, and my heart clenched, a surge of unease and dread knotting my stomach. "We were on the road... Late at night. The driver lost control..."

My breath hitched, and in that instant, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Something felt off, deeply unsettling. It just didn't add up. I knew I should be getting this call from someone else. I knew my cousin; I knew Cliff would want to speak to me and Leanne directly, to break the news himself.

Like when he shared he was leaving Long Beach for San Francisco. Like when he announced he was joining Metallica. Like when he called to tell me Dave got booted from the band, or when he rang to say Metallica was wrapping up tour and he wanted me there for their first hometown gig after dropping the first album.

Something wasn't right.

"James," I whispered, my voice trembling, tears pricking at my eyes as if I already knew what he was going to say. "What happened to Cliff?"

January 1st, 1992

I jolted awake, my cheeks damp with tears that refused to cease flowing. I sighed heavily, my breath shaky, the early morning sunlight just beginning to seep through the curtains. James' arms were wrapped snugly around me, his breath warm against my shoulder as he softly snored.

That dream, again.

It always seemed to resurface whenever I was near James. Maybe my subconscious still linked him to that chilly morning, to that phone call that’d shattered any hope of happiness for the rest of that year and beyond. A call that tore a hole in the fabric of my world, leaving an ache in my heart that felt like it would never mend.

The call that had shattered my heart for good, leaving no chance of putting the pieces back together.

I carefully shifted James' arm away from me, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I took in my tired blue eyes framed by dark circles, my brown hair tumbling in waves over my shoulders, and the red marks on my neck and collarbone left by James the night before. With a sigh, I opened the bathroom cabinet, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the pills I knew would help ease my anxiety.

I lacked the courage to return to bed, so I nestled into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, observing James' peaceful slumber as the daylight gradually filled the space. He stirred awake soon after, as if sensing my absence beside him, his eyelids fluttering before he groggily opened his eyes. With a puzzled frown, he reached out for the bed, only to find it empty, prompting him to scan the room. A sigh escaped him when he spotted me, a sense of relief washing over his features that tugged at my heartstrings.

"Bad dream?" he inquired, and I simply nodded in response. "You wanna hop back into bed?"

"I'd rather not risk slipping into another nightmare," I admitted, and he sighed, sitting upright.

"Well, I know a surefire way to keep you awake, if you're interested," he quipped, and I managed a shaky laugh. I much preferred this relaxed and caring version of James to the sarcastic and irritable one from the night before. "So, spill. What was haunting you this time?"

"The usual. That day," I murmured. It wasn't anything new; I'd replayed that nightmare countless times, and James was well aware. My demons weren't a mystery to us, but that didn't make them any less terrifying.

With a sigh, he got up and strolled over to me, scooping me up effortlessly, which elicited a surprised gasp from me. He carried me back to bed, settling me down beside him, his hand securing my waist while the other supported the underside of my thighs, lifting one leg and tucking it around his waist. I hugged him tightly, nuzzling into his chest. It was a brief moment of warmth and solace, a fleeting calmness that I knew would vanish as soon as the day kicked into gear and he walked out that door.

"Are you taking off today?" I whispered softly. I understood that once James and I dove back into our regular routines — fame, commitments, the whole mess — things would get complicated again. I'd lose him once more; I'd been through that too many times in the last few years to entertain any other outcome. But as long as we were together, there, shielded from everything else, he was mine. And I craved his presence. I craved his warmth.

"Do you want me to jet today?" he countered, and I shook my head no. He grumbled under his breath, the rumble vibrating against my cheek as I snuggled closer. "Then I'll hang tight. I suppose we can annoy Lars a bit longer."

"I'm too scared to doze off," I admitted weakly, grappling with the heaviness of my eyelids, which threatened to seal shut from exhaustion. James planted a kiss on the top of my head, gently stroking my hair.

"I ain't budging. If you slip into that nightmare again, I'll be right here when you wake up. Deal?" he whispered, and I nodded.

I knew that as soon as I drifted off, that same haunting dream would likely rear its ugly head. It was just one more cruel reminder of the growing chasm between James and me. It felt like we were broken, perpetually out of sync, and his nearness both healed and wounded me in equal measure. But in that moment, I was willing to bear the pain if it meant he'd stick by my side.

"I love you, Jamie," I murmured, and he sighed, pulling me close as my body surrendered to sleep.

"I love you too, Nore," his voice was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

February 18, 1992

The bouquet of red roses James had given me was beginning to droop, the once vibrant petals shriveling and browning with each passing day. Yet, the fragrance lingering in the air remained sweet and evocative, as if the flowers were still in full bloom.

I sighed as I ran a brush through my hair, eyeing the dress laid out on the bed for the evening bash. It was the launch party for the new TV network schedule I'd been hired for, and showing up was not just a courtesy but a must.

I hadn't crossed paths with James much since our time at Lars' getaway spot. His absence had become a familiar ache over the last few years, a kind of shield we'd unintentionally built between us over time. Yet, there was always that tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd call out of the blue and bring back that sense of ease with his voice.

To my surprise, the phone did ring that day. I set the brush down on the vanity, hurriedly making my way to the bedside table to answer it, a rush of excitement coursing through me.

“Nore?” the voice on the other end wasn't James', but it still warmed my heart, prompting a smile to spread across my face as I sank back onto the bed, cradling the phone to my ear.

“Lea!” I exclaimed, feeling a surge of joy. “It's been too long! How've you been?”

“I'm great! And you?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging in there. How's Joe?” I swiftly changed the subject. As much as I adored Leanne, I wasn't ready to spill my guts about how I was really feeling.

“Oh, he's doing fantastic. Actually, that's why I rang you up. We're getting married!” she announced, her excitement palpable, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Lea, that's incredible! When's the big day?”

“It's in August. We figured summer would be perfect. I'm calling to extend the invite; would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

I leaped up, my grin stretching wider across my face. Leanne and I had been thick as thieves since day one; seeing her so thrilled about tying the knot, and knowing she wanted me to be part of her big day, warmed my heart.

“Oh, absolutely!” I exclaimed, a bubbling laugh of joy and surprise escaping my lips. Lea chuckled in response, matching my excitement. “Thank you! I know it's going to be beautiful. Can you fill me in on all the details later?”

The rest of my day sparkled with newfound energy after the news; I even caught myself humming an old song as I finished getting dolled up for the evening bash, weaving my hair into an intricate hairdo my mom had insisted on teaching me.

When I finished getting ready, I checked myself out in the mirror, pretty pleased with the result; the dark blue spaghetti-strap dress hugged my curves just right, with the skirt flaring out at the waist and skimming down to my ankles. A dainty golden choker with crystals adorned my neck, and my long brown locks were styled to perfection, framing my face in all the right places, with my eyes sparkling, cheeks a touch flushed, and lips painted red.

But, of course, I couldn't roll up to an event like that on my own; right on the dot at 7 p.m., I heard the honk signaling my ride had arrived. I sauntered down the stairs, arching an eyebrow in surprise as I stepped outside and spotted the limo parked up front. My old friend Charlotte rolled down the window from the backseat, flashing me a big grin.

“Hey, Nore!” she chirped as I slid into the car, handing over a glass of champagne, which earned a soft chuckle from me. “Ready to rock?”

“I guess I’m a bit jittery. First time going to a party like this one,” I admitted. Now that I was on my way, the thought of facing a swarm of photographers and journalists at the event’s entrance was making me more nervous than I cared to admit, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

“Well, it's gonna be a blast, trust me! Everyone who's anyone will be there. I'll be your wingwoman, so don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure you rub elbows with all the big shots you haven't bumped into yet during the shoots.”

I nodded, taking a bit of champagne to settle my nerves, the bubbles dancing on my tongue and momentarily diverting my attention. If my acting career was taking flight now, it was all thanks to Charlie; she'd been the driving force behind my return to the scene after I’d graduated High School, persuading me to switch gears from the Visual Arts program up in San Francisco to Drama School down in Los Angeles, and had even helped me snag my first TV gig.

I'd recently jumped into acting over at the same TV network where Charlotte had been working as an actress for a while. Even though I hadn't wrapped up recording my first project yet, the buzz around a relatively unknown actress snagging the lead in the latest drama series had caught the media’s attention. In just about a year, my life had changed completely, going from being just another face in the crowd to even having paparazzi tail me. But truth be told, I was still getting the lay of the land at the network. Charlie had hit the nail on the head; this party was prime time to make some connections.

We rolled up to the party spot; I soon realized that navigating through the sea of photographers and reporters on that red carpet was no joke. But once I got past the Q&A, which mostly revolved around my work and career, it was time to get down to business. Charlotte ushered me into conversations with all sorts of folks: actors, musicians, executives, and even some of the network's shareholders. It hit me quick that networking at these parties was just as much a part of the job in the entertainment industry as being good at your craft.

The hours zoomed by amid chats, laughter, drinks, and nibbles. Soon, I was feeling drained and decided to grab a bite from the buffet before taking a breather. As I was fixing my plate, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, expecting it to be Charlie, ready to introduce me to someone new.

Never in a million years could I have guessed what awaited me in the next few seconds.

"Nore... Is that really you?" the man exclaimed, looking utterly astonished, and suddenly I was eighteen again, my heart racing in completely uncontrollable pirouettes as my breath hitched, my surprised gaze meeting his, the world filling with color and song as I stared into the eyes of Dave Mustaine.

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[portaltothevoid]

Console the Griever - copia x gn!reader

Grief is a fickle thing. It hits everyone differently, some more-so than others. We all have to learn how to deal with it and sometimes, no matter how long it's been, we just need comfort and a safe space to feel. Reader is dealing with it being the first anniversary of the loss of a loved one and Copia steps up to be the one they can lean on.

warnings: grief, loss of loved ones mentioned (no descriptions), everything is kept as vague and broad as possible to fit many situations, emotional hurt/comfort

word count: 2.8k

ao3 link

You could feel your insides shaking, your leg constantly bouncing. The work day was almost over. Freedom was so close, even if the only thing you did with that freedom was stay secluded in your room drowning yourself in memories of things, of people, you could never get back. 

A notification popped up on your phone. One of your friends sent you a meme, most likely. That seemed to be the way you communicated lately, solely through memes. The energy to have a full conversation was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t be bothered to look for it. Your eyes fell on the date. 

Knots twisted in your stomach. All day you’ve tried to ignore it, but it was bound to catch up to you eventually. Scrunching your eyes shut, you focused on your breathing. This could wait until you got back to your safe haven – it had to. You took a stuttering deep breath as you organized papers on your desk. Biting your lip, you hoped these tasks could wait until Monday. Staying on track wasn’t an option today, no matter how much you wanted to. 

“Topolina, before you go, could you just email these idiote (idiots) and tell them we have a petting zoo for i bambini of the Ministry for educational purposes and not for ritual sacrifices.” Copia pinched the bridge of his nose as he returned to his desk after setting down the information you needed.

“Of course, Cardinal,” you said quietly, after a brief and quiet laugh left you.

“It’s Papa now, cara,” he solemnly corrected you. 

Great. Another slip up. Your shoulders slumped at your mistake. Couldn’t you just get it together? “Sorry, Papa, I keep forgetting…”

“Ah shit. So do I,” he chuckled as he wiggled his fingers at you, now covered in his white face paint. He wiped it on his black, designer tattered pants absentmindedly before he frowned, having spread the white paint elsewhere. A nostalgic sigh was pushed from his lungs. “I miss my white suit,” he muttered.

“Me too,” you mumbled.

“What was that, cara?”

“Uh, I said, I know you do,” you quickly spoke, covering your small slip up. Your only further response to him was a tightlipped smile. It was just pleasant enough and all you could manage. An angry email. That was your mission right now. Then freedom. You could write a brief angry email.

As you went on with your task, you missed how Copia’s brows furrowed in concern. He knew you’d been acting differently lately. He wanted to chalk it up to just an off day; everyone has them once in a while. Then you started to smile less, his stupid jokes and quips that would always make you giggle barely made you give him more than a “ha.” Something was going on, and even though you were his assistant, a close bond had formed between you both. He hated seeing you turn into a shell of your former self.

Once the email was sent, you felt the crushing weight of the shadows in your mind fighting their way to the surface. You needed to get back to your room. Your breathing started to quicken and your hands were shaking. “Email’s sent. I think that’s it for today, unless you need something else…” you trailed off, praying to Lucifer himself that he would allow you to go home for the day.

“No, no, that was it.”

“Okay, I’ll see you on Monday,” you responded quickly, gathering your things.

“You’re not going to be at dinner?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Um, no, I don’t think so… well, uh, maybe, I don’t know,” you rambled.

“Is everything alright, dolcezza?” You froze at this question. Dolcezza was a rare term of endearment. It carried more weight than the others. This wasn’t Papa asking you, it was Copia.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Your pitch rose, betraying you just enough to earn a raised eyebrow from him. You tried to make your voice sound happier, more even. “Everything’s okay. Just a long week. Case of the winter blues, you know how it goes…” When he didn’t respond right away, you finished making your way to the door. “Have a good weekend, Co– Papa.”

Keeping your head down, you rushed back to your room. With a pounding heart and a heaving chest, you breathed out a shaky sigh as your hand lingered on the now closed door. You threw your bag down at the foot of your bed before you fell backwards onto it, staring up at the ceiling. Dragging your eyes to the window, you noted the weather. Exactly the same as last year. 

The memories sucker-punched you the instant your mind made the connection. Tears rolled down your temples, and before long you were choking back sobs, not wanting the sound to carry to the nearby rooms. Bringing your hands to cover your face, you curled into the fetal position, where you let the wave of emotion, of pain ride its course. 

How had a year gone by already? How had several gone by? You were no stranger to loss, but it never gets easier. All you wanted was to just stop everything in the sense of responsibilities and duties and expectations. It was getting more and more tiring to hold it together in front of everyone. You were seconds away from breaking down today in front of your boss. Even before his… promotion… the two of you could have almost been considered friends, he had just experienced a multitude of losses himself and you couldn’t dump all of this onto him. He had enough to deal with and you certainly weren’t about to add anything to his already full plate. That being said, there were also the formalities that had to be respected. 

You had no idea how much time had passed since your sobs had quieted. A ding from your phone pulled you back into the present moment. Curiosity got the best of you to at least see what the notification was, despite planning to ignore it. A grimace pulled at your features as you saw it was from Copia. Ideas of what the text could contain raced through your mind; you forgot to do something important, he needed you to come in for a bit tomorrow, another email had to be sent, you really fucked who-knows-what up and you’d be reprimanded… Biting your lip in apprehension, you slide the notification open.

Papa Emeritus IV:  Are you sure you're alright dolcezza?? You really haven’t been yourself lately… I hope this isn’t too forward. I just worry about you topolina mia. I am free tonight if you need or want to talk about anything. –C

Well, that was certainly unexpected. You threw your phone on your pillows like it was a hot potato. A blush reddened your cheeks as your heartbeat sped up, finally not because of anxiety. 

He was just being nice. There was no need to read into this. With how much time you spent with him in his office, albeit in a work environment, of course he would know some of your mannerisms. He was incredibly smart. He didn’t get to where he was by being stupid. That being said… perhaps he would be the one to really be able to understand what you were going through. 

Over and over you read that text, your mind racing. Should you respond? What would you even say? Do you want to talk to him? Why is he being so insistent? 

Darkness fell over your room, so you got up to turn on a light, but that just turned into you pacing as you tried to decide what to do.

Again, you lost track of time ruminating in your own world. Your eyes widened when a soft knock at your door stopped you in your tracks. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously went to open the door.

Copia was waiting outside, chewing his lip nervously, as he held two plates of food. “I’m sorry I–” you both said at the same exact time. 

“Go ahead, Papa,” you nodded, encouraging him to go first. It still felt so strange to refer to him by his title.

“I, eh, I noticed you didn’t really have lunch and… you weren’t at dinner, so… I just wanted to bring you this. I promise I won’t bother you again. Well, until Monday. I guess it’s your job to be bothered by me, no?” he laughed nervously as he rambled.

He was here because he cared. So, you listened to the little voice in the back of your mind that was whispering to you how you were more than just an assistant to him.

“Th-thank you…” was all you could manage to say, in shock by the kind gesture.

“Have you been crying, carissima?” he whispered softly. Okay, and then with his use of carissima… That was a new term of endearment, which made your heart skip a beat.

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed humorlessly, but it died in your throat when you saw him regarding you with such concern. You stepped back, giving him room to enter. “I guess I could use some company if you want to have your dinner here… if you’re still free?”

“Certo, certo. For you? Always,” he said as he stepped inside. “I was, eh, hoping you’d say yes.” The shy smile he gave you melted your heart and you swore you saw the slight blush under some spots of his fading papal paint from the long day.

Although your apartment was on the smaller side, it was still large enough to have a kitchenette and a small seating area. One of the perks of having worked alongside senior clergy members for years. As you got some utensils and drinks from the fridge, Copia set the plates on your coffee table while settling down on the loveseat in the corner.

He smiled at you as you set down a couple juice boxes for him and some for yourself. “Before you say anything, I haven’t felt like going into town so I had to dip into the stash I save for you when I need to restock the minifridge in your office,” you chuckled. 

He just shook his head. “Everyone’s always hating on the juice boxes,” he playfully grumbled.

It didn’t hit you how hungry you were til you saw the plate of food in front of you and then when you realized he brought you your favorite. “Wait… how did… This wasn’t on the menu for tonight’s dinner, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t, but sometimes it’s worth it to take advantage of the perks of being Papa.”

He had literally gone out of his way to do this for you. Blinking back tears, you murmured a quiet thank you when you knew you weren’t going to start crying again from his kindness. “How has it been, now that you’re officially Papa?” you wondered in an attempt to keep the conversation light so you could actually enjoy your dinner.

“Eh, it’s pretty much the same as it’s been for the last couple of years. Well, as far as duties and things go, for me at least. They treat me with… a little more respect than before,” he shrugged. 

“I’m still not used to calling you Papa,” you admitted.

“Please, don’t,” he responded quickly. “When it’s just us, call me Copia. I don’t like… I don’t think there has to be such formality between us. We’ve, um, worked side by side long enough…”

“It’s nice to have a sense of normalcy?”

“Sì. Sometimes it just reminds of… what they did to get me here and…” he cleared his throat. “And I’d just prefer you use my name.”

You nodded, knowing he was referring to his own series of losses. Not wanting to encroach on heavy topics yet, you steered the conversation to movies you’ve seen recently, a book you thought he might like, et cetera.

Once you both had finished eating, Copia insisted that you stay put while he cleaned up. When he sat next to you again he turned and wondered, “Did that help you feel a little bit better, dolcezza? I really can’t stand to see you so… hurt.”

You nodded. “It did. It really helped get my mind off everything for just… a little bit. I can’t thank you enough, Copia. You… you have no idea how much this means.” Anxiously, you stared at your hands in your lap as you fidgeted. 

“This week… it’s the first anniversary of her passing, isn’t it?” he spoke with sincerity and a cautiousness as if you might break.

Biting your lip, you nodded again. “You remembered,” you stated.

“Of course, cara.” He took one of your hands in both of his. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’m here for you, if you need me. You’re safe with me, always know that.”

The tears started to well up again. You couldn’t tell if the pressure in your chest was from the surmounting grief you tried to stuff down or from the gratitude of Copia trying to break through to you. “I can’t do that to you,” you shook your head, avoiding his mismatched eyes. “You have your own stuff to deal with. I can’t pile my shit on top of it…”

The hand on top of yours moved to cup your face as he turned your head so you could look at him. “If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be so insistent. I’m okay. Sure, some days are worse than others. That’s grief. It… it never goes away, but what changes is our ability to handle it and have space for it, to navigate it.”

As you looked into his eyes, you felt the dam break. Tears spilled over and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be fully vulnerable in front of someone else. Without hesitation, he pulled you to him, cradling your head against his chest as his other arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him. This time, you weren’t solely sobbing from the crushing grief and memories of the past, but because finally you felt like you were able and that you wanted to share with someone everything that you had been keeping under lock and key. 

When you had calmed down enough to talk, you told him your story. You started with how you had lost one of your parents when you were young, how much it still bothered you, how you recently lost another close family member and the anniversaries were so close together. You shared with him how this week you just tried to keep your head above water. You were so afraid of disappointing him, but were too overwhelmed. He just listened. He took it all in stride as he soothingly rubbed your back to keep you calm and grounded. 

“So much of that I’ve… I’ve never told anyone,” you confessed.

“Do you feel better, lighter now?”

“I do. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. I… Just… Thank you, Copia. Thank you for listening, for insisting, for just… being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, carissima.” You couldn’t help but give him a quizzical look as you tilted your head to the side. “What’s that look for, hm? Do you honestly think I’ve thought of you as only my assistant? All this time?” His hand cupped the side of your face again with his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“All this time?”

“Sì. You mean more to me than you know. I couldn’t stand to see you in so much…pain. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to keep my feelings to myself any more. I just hope–”

All inhibitions left you and you couldn’t stop yourself as your hand finally reached up for him to pull him close, stopping his words as your lips met his. The kiss was gentle, but the affection you both had, and could finally admit to both yourselves and one another, was unmistakable. When you parted, Copia couldn’t help but quietly laugh. “You feel the same, I take it?”

“I do. I mean, I have for quite some time now. It’s not just because of this moment…” you trailed off trying to find the right words. 

“We take things slow, then, sì? Even if just for tonight,” he smirked playfully. 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as you nuzzled your head into his chest while wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. The ache was still there, but it had dulled considerably thanks to Copia. The smile wouldn’t leave your face as your space for your grief having grown two sizes. You didn’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore. Neither did he for that matter, because when the time would come, you knew you could be just as strong and supportive for him as he was for you. And there was no one else you’d rather have by your side.

🖤🌹🖤