#i love seeing will in my dreams its always a disaster

[asmogorna]

A dream I had

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[evermoresqueiswriting]

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were. 

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did. 

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?” 

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone. 

“Rude!” 

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder. 

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there. 

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head. 

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted. 

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset. 

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear. 

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating. 

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion. 

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her. 

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag. 

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was. 

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her. 

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you. 

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag. 

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at. 

“y/n?,” Will called for you. 

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance. 

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though. 

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood. 

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her. 

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will. 

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious. 

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers. 

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse. 

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier. 

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him. 

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow. 

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive. 

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed. 

Lee slapped his arm. 

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm. 

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly. 

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too. 

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said. 

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner. 

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far. 

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights. 

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also. 

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed. 

You whipped around, standing up before backing away. 

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her. 

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly. 

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed. 

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink. 

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side. 

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.” 

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat. 

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips. 

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on. 

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work. 

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean. 

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down. 

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured. 

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter. 

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile. 

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her. 

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier. 

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that. 

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t.. 

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged. 

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder. 

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain. 

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said. 

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile. 

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before. 

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in. 

“You’re being weird,” he said. 

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch. 

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.” 

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere. 

“Clarisse?” you called her name. 

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’. 

“What happened?” you frowned. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady. 

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs. 

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound. 

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned. 

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile. 

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you. 

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed. 

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt. 

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning. 

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!” 

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell. 

“I just fell,” she explained. 

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia. 

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag. 

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head. 

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.  

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?” 

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused. 

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced. 

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement. 

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes. 

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms. 

“Don’t go,” she mumbled. 

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still. 

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you. 

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile. 

You both left  to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her. 

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered. 

You shook your head. 

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock. 

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

 “Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee. 

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears. 

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out. 

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze. 

Was she making you miserable? 

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again. 

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse. 

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. 

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed. 

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch. 

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped. 

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused. 

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out. 

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession. 

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms. 

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?” 

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist. 

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

[py-dreamer]

Macaque is big spoon

Lol the old men be snoozin and snugglin

(I was about to say sleeping but my mind is too dirty for that unfortunately-)

Y'wanna know why he big spoon?

The sun and moon thingy they have going on and...

Ehh, ehh? Y'see what I did there?

I hate fabric so god damn much.

WHY CAN'T YOU BEHAVE AND STAY STILL GODDAMN.

WHY MUST YOU CREASE AND HAVE LAYERS?!!? WHY CAN'T YOU BE SIMPLE AND FLAT

SAME WITH MACACA'S FUR.

WHY ARE YOU BLACK?!! HOW DO I RENDER YOU

TO QUOTE MY PAST SELF: "his true evil power is how hard he can be to draw"

LIKE MY DUDE. HOWWWWW.

Regardless, I'm still really happy with how the drawing came out like the lighting and stuff (just don't look at the fabric-)

Wukong couldn't give less than a flying f*ck if his pajamas matched. Like he's at home, let him be as much of a fashion disaster as he wants!

Heck, back in his day, he was prancing with a leaf skirt and that was acceptable, let the monkey be damnit.

But he would own something very funky like those peach shorts but specifically wear them on break days or in private

(Mac definitely made an inappropriate joke bout it; he has a mark you could read the king's fortune off of, on his right cheek-)

Mac loves his clouds cloudy king so sure, slap them on his pants I think he'd have those long fluffy or silky pajama pants and he like has a couple he switches out for every now and them.

Wukong struck me as a big shirt, short shorts guy

and Mac'doodles as a small shirt, big pants

On a more angsty note, after death I think he'd be a lot colder like its harder to generate body heat naturally so he'd be a lot more cuddly with his toasted marshmallow king cause he was literally toasty fried for 49 days in heaven (49 earth years if 1 year in heaven is a year belief is true)

I was really debating if they'd be in a tree like normal monkeys or in the stone palace cause like that's a whole thing.

Wukong is not only a king in name, he's got riches and a whole ass stone mansion, I want my boi to one day overcome his guilt and indesire for self care and move into the big boi house with his husbando...one day.

But until then, a girl can dream.

Cause come on, that'd be cool. I understand it'd feel real lonely without the stalwart generals and brotherhood but like he has new company and rekindling with his warrior might help with that.

I also think they'd rather sleep in a cozy lil alclove or like the beds in historical c-dramas that are kinda built in and they build a mini nest of sorts.

I was going to draw the monkeys but tbh, just wasn't feelin it...

Also wanted their tails to make a heart but the lil pointy bit always bugs me so I tried to make it into a more plausible scenario

And irl updates, I have been like formally rehearsing for a performance all week (as in a play) and practicing all day, just watched the 1st cast do it and its my turn tomorrow so wish me luck!

(btw I'm working with young kids, like 8-12 young and they all congregated around me when they saw me drawing like I was a glorified babysitter

And the amount of times I had to put the message on Mac's shirt on a different layer and hide it like bruh. The kids are lovely and all and I'd be happy to show my work but as you can see...not all of my works are...100% PG)

(pls reblog and feedback and stuff, I worked hard on this plss I beg...)

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability

Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.

Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.

"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..

He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”

Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”

Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"

“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”

As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.

“Y/n,”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You need to lift the magic.”

“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.

“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.

Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."

"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."

He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”

“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”

“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.

Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”

“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”

“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”

You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.

"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.

“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”

For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.

Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”

“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.

She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”

She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!” “Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat. “Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four. You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.

“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Wednesday! Are you done?”

She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."

"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.

“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”

He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”

“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.

You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.

You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”

“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”

She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”

Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.

“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.

“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”

Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.

“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”

You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”

“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”

She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”

Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.

Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.

“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”

You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”

Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."

"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."

"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.

"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.

You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping. “You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly. You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.” “You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.” You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy" You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.

“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.

“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.

That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”

“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.

Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.

"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.

She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road. Relief washed over you as you reached it. You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.

There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.

“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.” She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.” You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday. “You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed. “Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “And why is your car so… bright?” “It’s a normal car, Wednesday.” “I prefer hearses.” You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.

After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it. You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.” You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.” Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.” You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made. "Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.

After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human? "Better?" you asked. She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable." "Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair." Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.” “Would you prefer I get you a coffin?” Her eyes lit up "You can?" “No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously. "Sweet dreams Wends." "Bitter nightmares Y/n." You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.

Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room. Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady. For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.

“Y/N.” You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?” You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.” Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?” You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”

A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"

"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."

Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.

"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”

You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”

“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”

Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”

For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.

“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”

Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”

You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.

You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”

Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.

“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”

You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”

The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.

Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.

Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.

Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?

She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.

She wasn’t going back inside.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.

You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.

Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.

And that—more than anything—infuriated her.

She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.

It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.

No, she hated you. Right?

What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.

And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all. And you are still here now...

“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”

You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.

“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."

Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.

That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.

“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”

Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.

“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”

She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.

What the hell am I even doing?

Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?

Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.

For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”

You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.

“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.

Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”

She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.

Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.

And maybe, just for now, that was okay.

This didn’t need a name.

NEXT CHAPTER

[ramhaiba]

𝖢𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀

Pairing- Yandere Bokuto x Reader MasterList

"But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love."

A/N- this is one of my drafts, so this is shorter than most of my work (might make a longer ver. of this fic in the future!)

Everyone knows Boktuo probably has a crush on you. The topic of Bokuto’s childish crush on you is spoken like taboo. There is a nonverbal agreement between the entire MSBY to refrain from acknowledging it because of its harmless yearning.

While Boktuo’s a great guy, the idea of getting into another workplace relationship sounds displeasing to you since your last one ended in a disaster, causing you to quit your job due to the uncomfortable work environment. 

That’s why you pray he doesn’t ask you to dinner or anything romantic related because the sight of a heartbroken Bokuto would haunt your dreams. But that is your future problem-At present, Bokuto seems to be ignorant of his feelings because if he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to show up to practice, a bouquet in his hands, confessing his attraction towards you. 

Thankfully in the present, Bokuto just thinks of you as a good friend- a good friend who he can’t get enough of, a good friend who he wants to spend all his time with. Sure- sometimes he gets a little moody when he catches you hanging around other people but that’s just a normal thing for good friends to feel right? Right?

He’s doing it again, he’s completely ignoring every responsibility he has so he can talk to you. The second you step into the gymnasium, he’s at your side so fast that you think he teleported. Bokuto would start blathering about the more random things, details about his day, his plans for the weekend, and family events. But he always complimented your appearance, regardless of whether you thought you looked like a mess. The conversation was getting too long.

You could see in the background that Atsumu was getting impatient, hands on his hips as his foot repeatedly tapped the ground.

A setter needs to train with their team. But Atsumu can’t exactly do that if his teammate is busy chatting up their manager. “Bokuto, that sounds really great but shouldn’t you get back to pratice?” you told Bokuto, trying to solve the issue. 

Boktuo tilted his head, a naive smile on his lips as he said “It’s fine, we can talk for five more minutes. Atsumu can wait.”

That was Atsumu's last straw, his eyebrows furrowing as his fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“Bokuto, could ya please stop flirting with your little girlfriend? Get yer ass back to the court, we have a game coming to prepare for” Atsumu huffed. You glance at Bokuto, noticing his dazed expression, it seems like gears in his brain are finally turning.

“Girl-friend?”Bokuto uttered in disbelief, his arms slumped forward. When his yellow eyes looked back at you, you noticed a slight blush crawling on his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“Bokuto-”

“I gotta pratice now, Y/n. Talk to you later” Bokuto interrupted, dashing back to the court. You looked at Atsumu, giving him the most pissed-off look because judging by Boktuo's sudden change in emotion- from happy-go-lucky to a bashful blushing ace, 

It looks like he finally realized why your friendship was so different from others.

But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love.

It’s all that stupid setter’s fault that Bokuto is acting all weird in front of you. The second pratice ends, you’re pulling Atsumu by his ear, dragging him to the locker room so you can curse at him.

“You just had to use the word ‘girlfriend.’ You ruined this whole thing, Miya” you shouted, cornering the blonde hair setter against a locker.

“Sorry- Sorry, c’mon it was in the heat of the moment” Atsumu huffed, averting his eyes in embarrassment. 

“God- I’m going to have to break that poor boy’s heart because of you” you sighed. “What’cha mean by that?” Atsumu asked.

“Well, knowing Bokuto- he’s probably going to ask me on a date. But I’ve kinda..sworn off of workplace romances permanently” you answered, the anger in your tone slowly fading.

Atsumu took a moment to think before opening his mouth,

“We can’t have him acting all heartbroken right now- a match is coming up and I seriously cannot set to a depressed Bokuto….So just make sure he can’t ask ya out then” Atsumu suggested.

“What do you mean by that” you questioned, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “Avoid him till this little crush burns out. If that doesn’t work, it won’t hurt to get a boyfriend, y’know?” Atsumu added.

You punched Atsumu’s arm for his last suggestion causing him to hiss.

 “You’re an asshole but avoiding him for a little while isn’t such a bad idea” you hummed. “Does that mean I’m forgiven” Atsumu huffed, rubbing his sore forearm. “For now” you replied.

—

Avoiding Bokuto was a lot harder than you expected it to be. When he attempted to greet you at practice, you’d straightforwardly tell him “ I have to go schedule the hotel reservations for the out-of-state game,” or you’d mention another responsibility you must fill. 

Either way, he would let out a noticeable pout every time you walked away, mumbling a weak “okay then.”

Then he’s trying to get your attention after practice, a nervous but excited expression on his face as he stands in front of you but you don’t let him utter a single word before reminding him that you have to go home quickly to do some laundry.

‘Laundry? Was laundry really more important than him?’

Bokuto wondered. He doesn’t understand why the love of his life is acting so strange. Maybe you’re not feeling well? Or you’re stressed.

Either way, Bokuto is showing up at your door, holding a gift basket, a big grin on his lips. 

“Bokuto? What's all of this” you asked, awkwardly as you opened the door for him.

“ Figured you’ve been stressed recently that’s why you’ve been acting so distant, so I made ya a little self-care basket.” Bokuto beamed, proudly holding the basket of assorted goods. Everything in that basket is expensive, you can tell by the popular brands of each bottle of lotion, candles, and sweets.

“ Thank you, Bokuto. But you didn’t have to do this” you responded, calmly as you carefully took the basket from his hand, trying your best not to come in contact with his fingertips.

“I don’t mind doing these things if it’s for you. I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for you” Bokuto laughed bashfully.

“ Well.. goodnight.” You mumbled, trying to close the door, but his foot interrupted its closing.

“ Actually, I was kinda meaning to ask you something”

Fuck- here it is, the moment you’ve been dreading.

“Y/n, after hearing what ‘Tsumu said on the court the other day, it kinda got me wondering about somethings” Bokuto commented, a bashful grin across his lips.

“W-what kind of things” you stuttered, trying to put up a fake smile as mentally you were dreading the worst.

“I think I wouldn’t mind- I wouldn’t at all mind being able to call you my girlfriend” Bokuto confessed.

Fuck- what do you do? He’ll be too upset to play for his match next week if you reject him. You’d be lying to him if you accepted his feelings and hurt him more when you admit the truth.

“Bokuto- I don’t think we should get into this conversation, it might distract you from your game that’s coming up” you suggested.

Bokuto leans his face closer to yours, only a centimeter apart causing your heart to race. “You look so nervous, Y/n” he pointed out, his fingers brushing over the apples of your cheeks.

 “And your cheeks… they feel so hot” he mumbled. “I-it’s nothing important, I’m fine You responded, swatting his hand away from your face, adverting your eyes from his unmoving glare. 

“At first I didn’t completely understand why you’ve been pushing me away, Y/n. But now I understand. It’s because you feel the same and you’re nervous about dating another co-worker. But I’m not like that guy, Y/n. I’d never treat you like trash. I’d never let you go” Bokuto confessed. He’s getting excited- too excited because he’s come up with a false reality where you’d reciprocated his feelings. 

“Bokuto, I’m sorry but I don’t- I don’t feel the same and I don’t think I ever will” you replied being forced to ruin his dream. His entire demeanor changes at your words. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. Once standing in front of you with a big grin now morphed into an emotionless expression, eyes dulling burning holes into you, fist clenched at his side.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Bokuto asked, trying to find out if he heard you correctly.

“I’m saying I don’t have romantic feelings for you, Bokuto. B-but I really cherish our friendship and I don’t mind still being friends after this” you responded. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to be friends” Bokuto commented, his hand curling over your doorframe, pushing himself into your apartment, every step he took forward caused you to walk backward.

“Bokuto, stop it- you’re scaring me,” you remarked, heart skipping as your back pressed against the wall. “I like you so much, Y/n. I really do and I think you could too. I just need to show you how good I can be to you-

For you”

[libraryofloveletters]

The Same Shade Of Red

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: monza 2020 (double dnf for the boys in red), so much angst sorry, redbull comparisons for seb, the magic that is monza, the disaster that is ferrari and their team, talks of seb's races in monza, a few harsh/sad thoughts from seb, mentions of retirement, charles's crash in monza 2020, mentions of the pandemic, reader is the most loving wife to which seb is her perfect match, britta is sooo over you guys after years of this.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: would I be me if I didn't take monza race weekend and turn it into an ode to seb? no. ferrari seb you will always be my most beloved and fuck you ferrari for hurting my husband fr. (also this gif is so sexy I can't explain it. well I can but I will be banned from tumblr dot com)

---

Monza held a special place in the heart of your husband, in yours and in anyone that was a part of the Vettel family.

Sebastian had proven his worth, winning his and Toro Rosso's first ever Grand Prix in Monza during the 2008 season.

It was no different when he moved to Red Bull from Toro Rosso, his era of dominance brought him win after win and two of which were in Monza; the home of Ferrari.

Ever since that first win, Sebastian held a special love for Monza, as did you. There's something magical about the place; it might be the atmosphere or the fans but it has always been good to you and Seb. Whatever it was, it was nothing if not remarkable every single time.

The Tifosi held their drivers to the highest of standards, some would say next to God. Something happens to Italy when motorsport comes to town; everything changes and every single person you meet is so passionate. They live and breathe for Ferrari, they'd die for their drivers if it meant they could see them on that top step.

When Sebastian moved from Red Bull to Ferrari, he counted down the days to Monza.

It had always been his dream to drive with the red team, just as his childhood hero and friend, Michael, had done. Sebastian's first year with Ferrari was the epitome of picture perfect.

Despite coming in P2 behind Lewis and Mercedes, being on the podium at home for Ferrari meant everything to the German driver. This wasn't the first time he had gotten on podium for Ferrari, in fact he had already won twice with them that season; in Malaysia and then again in Hungary.

Monza was different; magical, special. There was something in the air, the energy was indescribable. Sebastian grinned, waving to the team from the second step.

You smiled, watching as your fiancé at the time hummed along to the Italian anthem, a country he quickly counted as his second home.

Sebastian was the king of the world that day, even though he hadn't won.

He had returned to the garage with the biggest grin on his face, trophy in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other. He passed them over to his engineer, making a beeline for you. The man's covered in champagne and sweat and confetti, and he smells like gasoline and engine oil but he picks you up, squeezing you tightly.

You remember telling him how much you loved him and how proud of him you were. Sebastian responded with a kiss, you can taste the champagne; a familiar taste that slowly became more scarce as his days with Ferrari went on.

Unfortunately, things took a bit of a downwards dip for Sebastian after that. He was hungry to win, he was constantly in a fight for the championship every year and it was killing him that he wasn't there yet. Yes, he had won races with them and broken every record he could possibly break but if he couldn't achieve the one thing he really set out to do, the one thing he had always dreamt about, then what was the point?

Monza seemed to always have Sebastian in its grasp, tricking him as the years went on. He almost always was there, he could reach out and touch the win and yet, it slipped through his fingers. Winning in Monza meant more to a Ferrari driver than winning in Monaco would - unless you were born and raised there like Sebastian's teammate, Charles.

You were the king of the world if you won there; your name written in the history books from now until the end of time.

Sebastian longed for his name to be in the book of the greats; Sebastian Vettel, Monza race winner.

A dream that slipped through his fingers as did his hope of winning the championship with Ferrari.

After coming in P2 in 2015, things just kept getting further and further from the finish line for him. P3 in 2016 and 2017, P4 in 2018 and last year was the final shove before the cherry on top this year; P13 while his new teammate, Charles, stood on the top step as race winner, basking in the magic that is Monza.

He was happy for him, beyond happy actually and any win for the team was great but oh how he wished that was him.

Now you're back in Monza, the season had been delayed due to the pandemic and this was the first race you had been able to join him for all season. It was weird being there with the track empty; just the teams and the occasional celebrity guest that was rich enough to pay their way in.

The car has been giving Sebastian a hard time all weekend, practice was shit and he placed P17 in qualifying. It wasn't a good weekend for your husband.

"Be good," you told him while he was getting ready for the race. Sebastian nods, a witty remark about him always being a good boy slipped past his lips and you waved him off, your cheeks red as you walked back to the garage.

Watching him start from the back of the grid was breaking your heart, you knew he could manage much more than that but it's the stupid car that was giving him trouble.

He barely got a grip on the car before he drove off and into the blocks that were in the run off area. Your brows furrowed as you watched him speed through the blocks, his voice coming through the headphone - "brakes failed."

Your heart drops, eyes fixed on the screen as Seb pulls the car into the corner as best as he can without disrupting the race. He finds his way back to the garage after the marshals come for his car, Sebastian gives your hand a squeeze as he passes through and into the back hallway to his driver's room. You figured you'd give him space to cool off and you stayed in the garage to watch a bit more of the race.

It was barely 20 laps later that you saw the other Ferrari slide into the wall. To no fault of Charles, the car had understeer which caused him to lose the back half and send him into the wall. You stood there, waiting to hear if Charles spoke before you took your headphones off.

Once you hear that he's okay, you step out of the garage and make your way to your husband's driver room. You knock on the door, peeking in before he answers.

Sebastian gives you a sad smile, you can feel your heart breaking as you step in and shut the door behind you. He's sitting on the bench and you walk over, joining him.

"Charles is coming in."

"What? The race isn't over, is it?" Sebastian looks over at you before glancing out the window. You shook your head, "it's a red flag now, Charles' car has understeer, went into the wall."

"Is he okay?" He asks and you nod, "he's a little shaken up but he'll be okay."

Your hand finds your husband's, interlocking fingers. "I always admire that even when you're going through it, you still look out for others."

"I know what it's like to be in his position, it's tough."

You hum, glancing down at the racing boots that were tossed to the side, Seb's sock clad feet slide back and forth over the floor. "You know what happened today wasn't your fault, Sebastian. It was mechanical."

He's quiet for a bit, nodding at your words. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, baby."

You look over at the man, "of Ferrari or of racing?"

"Both," he answers truthfully.

Sebastian and Ferrari had come to a mutual agreement - a publicity term - that they would not be renewing his contract. You weren't opposed to it, you knew it was killing your husband to go but if Sebastian was good at one thing, it was that he knew when it was time to go, he had to go. He wanted to win with them, you think a part of him still held a tiny sliver of hope that he would find his way back to the top step as champion of the world but he also knew being there was killing him.

Mentally, physically, emotionally; he couldn't bear the pressure of staying there any longer.

"It's just a few more races, love. You can do it."

He nods, "I know but.." "Don't even go there," you tell him, shifting to face him. One of your legs hanging off the bench as the other folded in front of you.

"Monza's special, you know that." He says, "I just.. I feel like I failed." He sighs, his head hung and if your heart wasn't already broken, it was broken now.

It was days like today that made you hate the team that your husband so dearly loved.

"You didn't fail, you never failed them, Sebastian." You squeezed his hand, the man looked up at you. Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, your thumb rubbing over the few days old stubble on his cheek. "If anything, they failed you."

"You have the talent and the skill, and the drive to win and to be a champion; it's them, babe. They couldn't give you a car that was worthy of you, you can't blame yourself for that." You look at your husband and the man sighs again.

"I should have been able to, though. Been able to get the best out of the car."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Seb, c'mon. Be for real right now, it's their shitty ass car, it's not your fault. You know Lewis's car is basically a rocket ship, plus it's not like your strategies are A1 over here."

Seb tosses you a glance, a look of disapproval on his face. "You're so not helping right now, darling."

You raise your hands in surrender and your husband smiles - his first genuine smile all weekend. You smile back, holding his face again. "I love you, Sebastian."

"I know," he grins and you shake your head, laughing. "This is usually the point where you say I love you back."

"Oh, sorry." he chuckled, "I love you, y/n."

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Good, now come on. You need to get dressed, go check on your teammate," you patted his thigh, getting up to find a shirt for the man. In the meantime, Seb pulled off his race suit and fire proofs, slipping on a pair of shorts.

"Do I really have to go?" He sits on the bench again, shifting to lay down, his arms tucked behind his head. You roll your eyes, looking through the small cabinet off to the side. "Yes, you know they'll make you out to be a villain if you don't."

"And if I wanna be a villain ?" He asks, looking over at you.

You sigh, tossing the shirt at him, "Sebastian, don't start with me right now."

The man laughs, dropping the shirt on the bench before standing up. Sebastian grabs your hand, pulling you flush against his chest. "Ew," you fake a gag, "you're sweaty."

He smiles, ignoring your comment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, I can't thank you enough for being here for me all these years."

Your hand rests on his jaw, giving him a kiss before smiling at him. "You don't need to thank me, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat but.. if you do wanna thank me, you can buy that purse I liked."

"Show me when we get back, you can take my card and order it."

"I was joking," you look at him, and Seb shrugs. "It's the least I can do to thank you for being the perfect wife."

"It's easy to do when I have the perfect husband," you smile, kissing him again. There's a knock on the door, causing you both to look in the direction of it.

"When the two of you are done being perfect, you're needed for press, Sebastian." Britt's voice from the other side of the door, making you both laugh.

Seb gives you one last kiss before grabbing his shirt, "I'm coming!" He calls to her, pulling it on. He was on his way out but you stopped him, grabbing his hand.

He turns back, looking at you as he waits to see what you wanted. "I'm proud of you, no matter what," you tell him.

Seb nods, smiling at you. "I love you."

---

taglist: @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker and @oconso cause she was fucking with the preview I sent her

[gabessquishytum]

Time and Night Endless have a problem. Their darling son Dream has been dating a man completely not of their class, a shameless and uncouth ruffian, by the name of Hob Gadling. While they did make their disapproval known, they were inclined to leave it at that, as surely this was merely a rebellious phase on Dream’s part; at some point he would come to his senses, end the relationship, and settle down with someone more suitable.

Except they have heard through the family grapevine that not only has Dream not come to his senses, but he is in fact planning on proposing to the dreadful man. That he has in fact purchased a ring already! Clearly something must be done.

They arrange a private meeting with Hob and offer him fifty-thousand pounds to break up with their son before the proposal, preferably publicly enough that they can be sure he did it, and so it decreases the likelihood of reconciliation.

Hob only hesitates for a moment before agreeing.

Time and Night walk away from the meeting feeling incredibly smug that they’ve saved their dear son from an inappropriate relationship with a blatant gold digger.

Hob walks away from the meeting pulling out his phone to call Dream. “Hey love, how would you like to con your parents out of a shit ton of money?”

Three days later, Dream and Hob have a giant blow-up fight in the middle of a friendly gathering—Desire was there filming the whole thing and had gleefully uploaded it to every social media platform they have, so the Endless parents can see for themselves. It’s pretty ugly: there’s accusations of cheating, loud negative allusions to their sex life, Dream even throws in a “my mother was right about you” for good measure. It’s a goddamn disaster of a shouting match that ends in the world's messiest breakup.

Time and Night would be horrified by the scandal if they weren’t so pleased with the results. Hob Gadling may not be an acceptable partner for one of their children, but at least he certainly does deliver. They wire the money to him with absolutely no remorse, considering it money well-spent.

A week later, a new video is uploaded to Hob and Dream’s social media accounts: the two of them side-by-side, leaning into each other's touch like love-drunk teenagers, fingers entwined and sporting beautiful engagement rings, as they announce their reconciliation and engagement.

“Communication has always been the key to a successful relationship, and all we really needed to do was sit down and talk to each other like adults. Any issues we may have had have been resolved, and if it weren't for the people close to us who didn't want to see us fall apart, we might not be here today,” Hob says, grinning ear to ear. 

“I would particularly like to offer my greatest, most heartfelt thanks for our upcoming marriage to my parents,” Dream says with an evil glint in his eye. “They not only engineered our reconciliation, they selflessly gave fifty-thousand pounds of their own money to help pay for the wedding and honeymoon. We can't thank them for their kindness and support enough.”

Hob then grabs his fiance and dips him before kissing the life out of him, and that’s where the video ends.

Night faints and Time breaks a priceless vase.

(Desire also gleefully shares this video on the same platforms as the first one, and helpfully tags their parents with it to boot. It was actually fun scheming with their brother for the first time in a long time, and they may or may not be planning to stitch the two videos together into a small tasteful movie as a wedding present (and perhaps providing a copy to their parents as well))

-🪽anon

I love the "evil parent offers main character a lot of money to break up with love interest" vibe. Whatever happens you just KNOW its going to end badly for the parents!

And really, they should have known better. Hob is a shameless ruffian and an experienced conman, OF COURSE he was going to pull some kind of trick. He's actually really pleased because he was worried that Dream wouldn't get his perfect wedding, because Hob’s meagre salary won't stretch to a big budget. With the "generous contribution" from mum and dad, Dream can make his gorgeous goth wedding fantasies a reality.

Dream has an amazing time at the fittings for all the wedding outfits, and Desire even has a hand in designing the most gorgeous jumpsuit for Dream to wear at the reception. They're totally invested in this wedding and keep feeding Dream and Hob information about their parents latest plans to sabotage the big day. This leads to Dream getting in touch with their estranged younger brother, who is thrilled to a) be invited to the wedding and b) provide security on the big day! He's built like a brick wall so no attempted shenanigans will get past him.

There won't be any trouble at the wedding, anyway. Hob has a few of his old pals on the job, and they will make sure that the Endless parents are tragically prevented from reaching the venue on time. So sad. Its okay though, because Desire will be putting together a beautiful wedding movie for everyone to watch after the honeymoon!

When asked by their society friends about their new son in law, Night and Time will grit their teeth and smile. He's a very... resourceful man. Not what they'd imagined for Dream, but he seems happy enough. And there was a prenup, so it can't be that bad if (hopefully when) they get a divorce.

Yeah.......they're never getting a divorce!

[andreafmn]

Speak | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.6K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 9/? A/N: one day I'll upload early, y'all. but I am truly trying to keep to the schedule I posted, as hard as it is. But thank you for bearing with me. You guys have no idea how much it means to me 🥰🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!  Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 9

The Swan sisters had been raised with a misconstrued idea that the new year meant a fresh start, a clean slate. That it could magically erase any and all afflictions the year before had caused. That it truly was the first page of a new chapter.

And maybe that’s all that (Y/N) was hoping for that New Year’s Eve. That the coming year would be the first page of her new chapter in Forks. That whatever was happening with Paul would die that December night. That Bella would finally turn over a new leaf and forget Edward. That she could move forward with her relationship with Jake.

Because that’s what she wanted.

That’s what she had always wanted.

The thing she most needed was to get over whatever fluke it was that had made its way into her life. Whatever breach into her timeline that had decided to make her heart flutter out the sound of someone else’s name. It had been too sudden and unexplainable to not be a mistake.

Paul Lahote had no business settling into her heart in the way he had, and she would stop at nothing to pluck him as quickly as he had attached himself. Even if she looked forward to seeing him in her dreams at night, even if her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him, even if all she wanted was to get as close to him as possible.

(Y/N) wanted —at least she thought she wanted— to go back to being excited that Jacob had finally set his sights on her. She wanted the same thrill she got about Paul with Jake. He had been the crush that had withstood the trials of time. It could not be trampled over by a guy she barely knew.

Yet, she could not stop thinking how his favorite color was red, how he moved to La Push after his parent’s divorced when he was eight, how he didn’t remember much of his mother even though he had been old enough to, how he had never been in love but desperately wanted to know what it felt like. (Y/N) could not stop picturing the way his eyes would shine under the warm glow of the setting sun, how his smile would grow as he listened intently to every word she spoke. Nor could she shake off the feeling of his warm skin against hers, how soft his hands had felt where she believed they’d be rough and calloused. He was everything and nothing like she had thought, but she knew that was as far as she could go to know him.

“Well, don’t you look mighty nice?” Charlie’s voice broke his daughter out of thought. “I think you’ve been to more bonfires this month than I have been to in years. People might start forgetting the sheriff’s face around there.”

“I doubt that’s even possible, dad,” she chuckled, smoothing over a piece of hair that had been unruly for the better part of the day. “Really wish you could join us, though. Since Bella won’t be making it out there, I wanted a Swan there for moral support.”

“This about that Paul fella?”

The question took (Y/N) aback. She had thought no one but Jake knew about that whole fiasco, and she was certain he had not said anything to her dad. “How do you…?” she stammered.

“Bella muttered a thing or two about him. Said he was the one you had been with the other night,” her father said. “Something happen with you and Jake?”

“Nothing happened,” she muttered. “I’m just making new friends seeing as my stay in Forks might be longer than anticipated.”

“Well, that’s a good idea. Just be careful of the people you keep in your company.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Jake might have mentioned this Paul Lahote character is not the greatest influence,” Charlie added. “He thinks he might not have the purest of intentions with you, (Y/N). I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”  

“Well, I can tell you right now that you have nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) smiled comfortingly.  The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry about her when his other daughter was still no more than a statue in their home.  “I have only hung out with him that one time and I don’t think it’ll happen again. But thanks for checking in.”

“Just wanna make sure your transition back here is as smooth as possible, kiddo,” he responded warmly. “I know it’s gonna be hard to settle back here after being with your mom for so long. Forks might be a bit slow but it’s truly home.”

“I’m actually excited about staying. Even if it wasn’t the plan originally, there’s something about this town that’s just begging for me to stay,” she confessed. “Even if I came to help with Bella, I’m glad I decided to stay. It will also keep mom from taking us both back to Florida —at least for a while.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The older Swan said before she nodded in response. “I’m just glad you two wanted to spend time with your old man. Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing good, dad,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I will say you got the shortest end of the stick having to be the one dealing with this breakup but I know you’re doing the absolute best you can. Hopefully, this new year brings us all the fresh start we so desperately need.”

“I hope so too, kiddo,” he sighed in defeat. “But have fun tonight, (Y/N), and make good choices.”

“Have I ever done anything else?”

“Very funny, kid,” Charlie chuckled. “Well, I’m off to work. I’ll probably not be here yet when you get back, so happy new year, (Y/N). And have fun.”

“Happy New Year, dad.”

Everything in Forks seemed to move at a punishingly fast pace, even if at times it felt like the town was stuck in time. But (Y/N) had been there almost four weeks which had already felt like a lifetime.

In comparison to living with Phil and her mother, in the midst of travel and adventures that she had loved for a time, (Y/N) had forgotten the calmness of remaining stagnant, of going to sleep and waking in the same home. She had forgotten what walking the halls of a school felt like, of having a group of friends that lasted more than a year.

Forks would give her that opportunity, or at least she hoped it would. The town had already started to change her and given her more than she could’ve hoped for. And that night she truly believed would set everything in the correct motion. Everything she had wished for with no more flukes.

An hour later and from the street she heard the honk of a horn. She gave herself a once over, not feeling completely comfortable with the way she looked that night. In part, she felt it was merely the nerves of seeing Jacob after the altercation with Paul.

But there was another part, the bigger part, that knew it was because of Paul. There was a calming thrill to him that she couldn’t explain. Even the juxtaposition of the thought made no sense to her. As much as she wanted to stay away from him, she wanted to get closer. It scared and excited her all at once.

Yet, the person that was waiting for her was not him. It was Jake, waiting impatiently behind the wheel of his truck.

“What took you so long?” Jacob grumbled as (Y/N) got into the car. “We’re already late as it is.”

“Sorry, Jake. I couldn’t find my jacket.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N). It’s just that Quil came back from his trip, and I wanted to catch up with him before school starts,” he said. “I also haven’t seen Embry since last weekend since he was with his mom visiting some family.”  

“Yeah, I get that,” (Y/N) responded meekly, sinking into her seat. “At least we have the rest of the night to hang out with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he smiled forcefully. “What about Bella? Is she not coming?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “She wasn’t up to coming. Still bummed about this Edward guy.”

“What a shame,” Jake sighed. “Being around people would be good for her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled. “But I can’t really force her. This guy did a number on her and nothing dad and I are doing is working. I’ve even decided to…”

“Maybe you guys don’t know her as well as you thought,” he blurted. “I mean, no offense but she’s not the same girl that left Arizona. She’s not even the same girl that came to Forks.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help her, Jake. And that’s what we have been doing this whole time. Still, we can’t help someone that doesn’t want to help themselves.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight, (Y/N),” he grumbled. “I’m just saying that  maybe your efforts have not worked because she’s not the same Bella you knew.”

The girl remained quiet, anger filling her body instantly. Bella remained a sore subject in the new relationship, always being brought up by Jacob, reminding (Y/N) that he had liked her sister first –and, deep down, she knew he probably still did. Still, wanted to remain in the delusion that he had chosen her for as long as she could.

“It’s fine. Let’s just drop this, okay?” (Y/N) pleaded. “I just want to enjoy tonight. Please.”

“Alright, yeah. Whatever.”

The rest of the ride went by in silence, a heavy tension filling the air and suffocating her. At that moment, more than ever before in her life, she needed to believe that the new year was truly a fresh start. A new beginning for her sister, a new beginning for her relationship, and a new beginning for her life in Forks.

As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Jake was out of the car and heading to the beach, mumbling something to (Y/N) that he was gonna see his friends and that he’d catch up to her soon enough. Then, he left her in between the small sea of cars that lined the border of the beach.

The younger Swan was left dumbfounded, completely perplexed at Jake’s reaction. His outburst had made her feel small and unwanted. And as she stood frozen at her spot, watching the community celebrate before her, she wondered if there was any reason for her to be there. Because maybe the best thing she could do, for everyone, was leave.

“I’m glad you came, (Y/N),” a voice startled her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Paul, hi,” she blushed, looking down at the black jumpsuit she wore under a white coat. “Thank you. You look great too. Especially with my sweater.”

“Oh, it was cold tonight and it was the first thing I grabbed,” he chuckled. “I promise I was gonna bring it back to you, not use it like it was mine.”

“Honestly, it looks better on you than it does me. Sometimes I feel like I drown in it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your look great in a paper bag,” he grinned. “But I really am glad you came tonight.”

“And why is that, Paul Lahote?”

“Because I wanted to apologize for the other day. I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said. His eyes searched hers in the darkness, wanting nothing more than for his hands to reach her, to feel her skin against his once more. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and Jacob. The last thing I would have ever wanted was for you to be blamed for my actions. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she smiled, her hand unconsciously reaching for his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “But it’s not your fault. I was the one that agreed to spend time with you knowing that Jake would blow off the handle. If anyone is to blame for what happened that night, it’s me.”

Paul couldn’t help himself as his free hand flew to rest on her cheek, cradling her face in a soothing manner. “Nothing that happened was your fault, (Y/N),” he said. “Jake simply showed you who he is. You never did anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

In that split second, (Y/N) remembered Jake’s words. She broke away from his contact, as though his touch had burned her skin, turning away from the enchanting trance his eyes held over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It's just that Jake said something about you and… your past,” she sighed. “He said I was just an attempt to make your body count higher.”

“I hope you know how untrue that is,” he said, seething on the inside but not daring to show it to her. “You are special, (Y/N), and I would never do anything that would make you feel otherwise.”

“But why, Paul? What is so special about me? To everyone, I’m just Bella’s little sister.”

“You have to know that that is the least interesting thing about you,” he said. He reached out to her, needing to look her in the eye again. “You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re smart and witty. And that’s merely the tip of the iceberg. I may not have known you for long but I know there’s so much more to you than you let on. And all I’ve wanted was to learn about those parts that you hide from everyone else.”

“I still don’t know why!” (Y/N) responded, frustration pooling beads of tears in the corners of her eyes. “How can I trust someone that somehow says everything I want to hear but won’t give me a straightforward answer? Why me, Paul? Out of all the people in the world, why do you want to know me?”

At that moment, he felt he would spill everything. He wanted her to know just why it was her, why the universe had decided that it had to be her. Paul wanted to confess what bonded them and would keep them for the rest of their lives.

And he would have, but the fear of putting her in any danger could not let him say the words. He could not bring himself to utter any of the words that would throw her life up in shambles. “Why not you, (Y/N)?” he asked her, biting his tongue to keep what he wanted to say from spilling. “Is it so hard to believe that I could have seen you and be intrigued by you?”

“You saw me for a split second, Paul. Someone you’ve never known of cannot be worth all this trouble.”

“You are worth it, (Y/N).”

“And you are frustratingly vague,” she finally cracked a smile. “Why can’t you just answer me? What is it that you’re hiding?”

“You’d never believe me if I told you,” he copied her smile. “And isn’t a little mystery fun?”

“It could be if it didn’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.”

“That could be fixed by breaking up with him, you know,” Paul teased. “A lot of things could be fixed if Jake was gone.”

“Are you threatening my boyfriend, Paul Lahote?”

“I would never,” he laughed. “But I still believe that he doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N).”

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Don’t think I can.”

And maybe she knew he was right but it was too hard to admit it, to him or to herself. She had wanted Jake for the better part of her life and one night could not change that. She wouldn’t let it. “Then you’re gonna have to if there’s ever gonna be some sort of friendship between us,” she said. “Might be hard to spend time with someone that’s always trashing their boyfriend.”

“I mean, you’ve only got a couple more weeks before you have to go back to Florida, right? I think I can control myself in that time.”

“Actually, I decided to move to Forks with my dad,” she smiled. “Bella isn’t getting better and I’ve honestly gotten attached to this town. It might be that some people have made this place so enchanting.”

“Then I guess I’m gonna have to work harder on pretending that I like Jake,” he grinned. “But I am glad you’re staying. The town wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I’ve only been here for three weeks, Paul,” she laughed.

“And nothing has been the same since.”

“You’re something else.”

“I could say the same about you,” Paul added before noticing Jared calling him over. “And on that note, I will have to leave you. I’ve got a couple of things I have to do. But not before you give me your phone number.”

“My number?”

“That way I’d we ever wanna see each other it doesn’t have to be by me showing up at your house or running into each other at a bonfire.”

“Right,” she chuckled, handing him her phone. “That’s smart.”

 “I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” he smiled before kissing her on the cheek and disappearing down the beach.

As soon as he was out of sight, (Y/N) looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. As innocent as everything could have been, in such a small town, everything was known.

Once she had calmed down, she finally walked toward the commotion of the beach. Feeling as confused as she had been since meeting Paul, but at peace. Being around him made her feel serene, tranquility spreading through her veins. Though he made her heart race, he didn’t make her chest feel tight. It was a feeling that made her feel equal parts uneasy and calm.

“Where were you?” Jake asked as she joined him and his friends, a hint of annoyance dancing between his words.

“Just around,” she smiled. “I was actually planning to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?”

“We’re good,” Embry smiled kindly. “But thank you.”

“Just hurry,” Jake added before becoming more interested in the conversations he was having before she had gotten close. “And bring me back a water, thanks.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

(Y/N) left him quickly, needing to compose herself before heading back toward him. She could feel how annoyed he was at her. Ever since that afternoon with Paul, Jake had become distant and rather cold toward her but she could understand why. As much as it pained her, she knew why and that she had to do something to make it up to him while keeping what angered him a secret.

“It’s good to see you around, (Y/N),” Billy said as he joined the girl’s side at the refreshment table. “I was wondering when I would see you again.”

“Hi, uncle Billy,” she smiled. “I’ve been meaning to go by the house but I’ve been busy these couple of days.”

“And things have been heated between you and my son.”

“How did you…?”

“Small town,” he smiled softly. “But I’ve already had some words with my son about his behavior toward you. It was completely unacceptable.”

“It might have been an overreaction but it was warranted,” she said looking down. “I knew what I did would anger him but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t mean he can chastise you in the middle of town. My son is young and can be quick-tempered,” Billy sighed, taking one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. “He says and does things that he doesn’t know he will regret one day, and you don’t deserve to be in the receiving end of that.”

“Thank you, Billy,” (Y/N) smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But I’m sure he’s sorry for that night and we’ll work through it together.”

“You know, I love my son, but he can be quite stubborn when he wants to. Even at his own detriment. Still, I hope this new year brings you both clarity and growth. Both personally, and if the gods want it, in your relationship as well.”

“I hope so too, uncle Billy.”

“My son is lucky to have you by his side. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

(Y/N) felt a new surge of confidence as he joined Jake and his friends once more. Knowing Billy was watching her back made her feel stronger about her relationship with Jacob and that it was worth investing her heart and time into. She knew her heart yearned for Jake and all she felt toward Paul was a strong sense of friendship.

As the hours passed and the tension between her and Jake seemed to dissipate, her resolve simply solidified itself. She would do anything possible to fix her relationship with her boyfriend and keep her friendship with Paul separate from Jacob.

But there was the smallest part in her that replayed Paul’s voice. He kept telling her how she deserved better and that Jake was not the right person for her, even if that was who she had wanted for so long.

Still, when the clock struck twelve, Jake was the one she kissed, and wished things would work out between them. She wished for him to only see Bella as a friend and finally give his whole heart to her. Wrapped in his arms as they cheered the new year, she begged the universe to give her the chance to have everything she had wished for.

Yet as her eyes found Paul’s in the crowd, she doubted if it was what she truly wanted or if she was holding onto a silly childhood dream.

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[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (3/3)

Part three of my fanfic recommendation! This one's for the best fics!

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Best of the Best Fics

Fics that shine bright as the stars. Make sure to check the author’s other works too!

ICEMAV

Kings of the Air by FabulaRasa @fabula-unica

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

This and COMPACFLT’s work directly inspired one of my works:) The writing quality is absolutely amazing. My favorite fics are those that have Ice returning to Top Gun and joining Mav as an instructor and this one just takes the whole motherfucking crown.

Indian Ocean. Present Day. by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)

Isolated on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean, cut off from any source of information about the global political and environmental disaster which has engulfed the planet, Maverick and Goose struggle to make sense of an increasingly claustrophobic command structure and failing resources on board. When a refugee helicopter is spotted approaching the carrier, its pilot could be the catalyst for an explosive re-evaluation....

This fic man. This fic. It made me fall in love with post-apocalyptic fics. The writing style, the plot, Ice and Mav and Goose. Goose, man… Oh my god. If you read this fic you know why I’m still thinking about these boys’ fates. 

Rhinestone Cowboy by omnidirectional

That’s Doctor Iceman to you! Maverick bangs himself up and gets rescued by someone he didn’t expect. A Missing Scene featuring contrived situations, questionable life choices, gratuitous product placement, and shirtlessness. You know, everything you love about canon.

And it is absolutely everything I love about canon! I always love missing scenes or canon divergent. Not to say that I don’t enjoy AUs, but I love vibes like this the most where the story works alongside canon and elevates it to a whole other level. Mav and Ice and Slider feels correct.

Sleepless Nights by demiclar @demiclar / @slidersimp

Five times Maverick wakes himself up with nightmares and one time he's woken by someone else.

Fics about Mav’s grief over Goose’s death will always wreck me. This one in particular shows itself as a physical manifestation. I love love love all the guys stepping up and taking care of Mav, never once judging his pain. I’m a sucker for portrayals of the ugly side of grief.

Mal de Mer by saurora_borealis

"I thought you said you didn't get seasick, you little liar," Slider snaps. Maverick doesn't answer, head bowed, but Ice can see him shaking from here. Of all the times for Maverick to be sick, did it have to be on a night that Ice is ill too? Or: the carrier experiences some ocean turbulence. Even the most seasoned aviators fall prey to it.

This one has sort of the same vibe as the fic above. I never get tired of seeing the flyboys take care of each other<3

be my soulmate (and i'll be yours) by ChexMix

Of course Maverick dreams about finding his soulmate. Who doesn't? But he'd never imagined the possibility that it could be the Iceman. So when he catches sight of Ice's soulmark, it suddenly becomes all he can think about.

Classic Icemav soulmate AU. This is like exactly my type of angst and happy ending. Sometimes the things you’re familiar with are still the best:)

To Build a Home by LadyLanera @k9effect

Eighteen years before Top Gun Maverick, there was a home being built from ashes and ruin. When the dust finally settled and dusk fell, the house of cards collapsed, shattering three lives forever. Is it possible to rebuild, reclaiming the past in the future...when they're all hurtling towards their worst nightmare?

Goddddd. I love Mav’s character flaw in this. I love Ice’s maturity born from grief and sickness. I love Bradley’s anger and abandonment issues. I love that these three have hurt each other more than anyone ever could, but their love is still starkly present. My thoughts when I was reading this was that LadyLanera wrote their flaws so beautifully, making them human, and by doing so I understood their motivations and their actions. Amazing characterization. 

all is fair (in love and war) by dulcetines (evecstasy)

oh, ice, maverick bisa merasakan hati kecilnya meringis, ice, sori banget— hollywood menyelak lagi, kali ini dengan suara impersonasi terbaiknya: “teruntuk kuncen TOPGUN, yang mana di sana kuyakin matahari belum juga terbit sebersamaan dengan ditulisnya surat ini. aku ingin saat ini juga kau bersyukur tidak mesti mendengarkan slider ngorok di sampingmu. tuhan jesus. pria ini sudah kuanggap saudara sendiri, tapi terkadang ada saja hal-hal yang dilakukannya yang membuatku ingin menggulingkannya ke laut. kau apa kabar di sana? sudah berapa pilot yang kauhabisi egonya? apapun itu. jangan mati kebosanan dulu. aku bisa bilang begini karena surat-suratmu selalu mengancam demikian. ingat kau masih hutang makan malam denganku. dan sepuluh dolar. sampaikan salamku ke bayi itik. bilang aku kangen padanya. dan,” hollywood memalsukan dehem, sambil ia melanjutkan, “padamu juga. setiap detikku. ice.” begitulah.

Hehehehehe. Now this is more for me LMAO because as you can see, it’s written in Indonesian. Finding this fic in my mother language is like finding GOLD. Again, I love love love Icemav in their Top Gun era. This is for all of you Indonesian Top Gun enthusiast *blows a kiss* 

a higher fidelity by basedchamp

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

Ice’s family, man… It’s refreshing to see them so supportive and loving. I’m guilty of making Ice’s backstory so tragic>:) But this one is heartwarming! I love the style and flow of the writing. It’s something that I want to achieve in my own writing as well, so kudos to basedchamp!

Tunnel Vision by brainjuicey (anzietyfreak) @brainjuicey

Instead of Ice biting the air in the locker room, he antagonises Mav by biting his neck, unknowingly setting off dormant Omega genes and sending him into heat. Everyone involved is forced to remain secure on base until they’ve investigated. AKA. Five Alphas, a Beta, and an Omega in heat, walk into an Air Base prison. Ramifications ensue. Alternative title, "Locked in Sex Jail With The Boys"

This scratched that specific part in my brain, man. ABO with the original cast of Top Gun? Sign me up, baby. Steamy and perfect. 

The Five People You Can't Escape in Heaven by V_Evergreen

Maverick dies, but it doesn't end there. Alternately: [“Hey, kiddo, are you with me?” Maverick opened his eyes and found that he could see. He blinked in the sudden light as his surroundings came into focus. Quite literally came into focus, as though everything around him was resolving into itself as he looked, deciding to form a lawn, flowerbeds, the tree trunk that he had been leant against. The sun was blinding overhead, high noon. In the distance, hazy and indistinct, he could make out a house. It looked vague, like a half formed memory but it was familiar. Just like the man crouched in front of him. “Dad?” He croaked.]

I was reading the original book (The Five People You Meet in Heaven) and came across this fic. Which in turn made me want to write my own rendition from the same idea.  That last chapter, man. It’s unreal how creative it is. A punch to the gut for sure.

(Here’s my fic if you want to read about it :) >> Estrellita)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen

Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt. Alternately: [Ethan heard the door click shut behind him and turned to ask after the papers when he was abruptly spun by a hand on his shoulder and pushed against the door. His first and immediate thought was that he was certainly being attacked. Kazansky had him pressed against the door, chest to chest, a hand around his wrist and then- oh. Oh no. He wasn’t being attacked at all, it was infinitely worse. He was being very thoroughly kissed. He pushed back against Kazansky’s chest and tried to think of something eloquent to say. “Um?”]

Another banger by V_Evergreen. Ice not knowing Mav has a twin and mistakenly kissing him is so funny. And the end is heartwarming as well. Love love love it.

Allies by Shearmouth

After getting shot down over a war-torn Iraq, Maverick makes some unlikely friends. They have something– a big something– in common. But all Mav really wants is Ice. Too bad he's half a world away, and even Mav can't run that on a shattered leg. Not with the infected chest wounds thrown in, at least.

Oh my goddddd. I keep being at a loss for words when describing these fics. It won’t do anyone good if all I wrote was goddd, oh mannn, it’s so goodddd. But it’s the truth. This one hits home so much. The risk and homophobia present when you’re in a place that punishes queer people for existing and being in love, how a single mistake will cost you your future. And it’s so heartwarming to see that even then, you’re not alone. Mav being helped to reunite with Ice and breaking down that since their relationship was private, Ice had to grief Mav alone. Man, oh man. 

There is a pain—so utter by CurSirrr

Pete Mitchell was fine. Completely fine. He didn’t feel dizzy with denial, or an utter trainwreck of hopelessness. He hadn’t shed a single tear or cried himself to sleep for the past week. His guts were twisting and turning, squeezing and cramping. His eyes were swollen and red, and his scalp hurt from his vicious hair tugs as he tried to understand the past week. OR Three times Bradley misses the chance to say goodbye before it is too late.

Just read the summary and prepare for a world of pain:) Ice’s canon death still haunts me. Good thing he’s sleeping away in his big house that he co-owns with Mav, regularly saves his husband’s ass, have barbeque Sunday with Bradley and Jake and the dagger squad, happy and healthy:))

keeping his cards close to his chest by Serie11 @oathkeeperoxas

It's not that Lucy wishes that her boss would be more open with her. It's that she quite literally knows nothing about the man, despite Admiral Kazansky being her CO for half a decade. Or: 5 times Ice successfully hid something from his staff, and 1 time Ice revealed his biggest secret

Love seeing Icemav seen through other people’s perspective. It adds so much to the universe. Ice and Mav being their usual old married couple while everyone around them suffers. Excellent.

'til I meet you there by adiduck (book_people) @adiduck

Maverick wakes up in the snow, helmet on, entire body aching intensely and parachute still attached. It takes him about half an hour of trekking through the snow to notice that there’s anything amiss. (Or: Maverick Mitchell is in the habit of talking to his ghosts. Usually, they don’t talk back.)

Mav’s journey through the underworld. This fic is just too creative😭Always a delight to see how loved Mav is. It’s so whimsical and confusing and so great.

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” • Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Goose survives AU!!!! Huh? This isn’t canon? What are you talking about? Of course, Goose survives and the Bradshaw family is still whole and Mav still has his family and gets to have Ice too. What are you talking about??

Swallow by wildglitterwolf 

Ice is getting tired of Maverick's inability to be a team player. Maverick is annoyed by Ice's gum chewing. Ice is more than happy to get rid of it, he just needs a place to put it...

TT.TT Just… I didn’t know I like this dynamic so much…

HANGSTER

cruise control by res_judicata

Rooster’s plane goes down on a Tuesday.  Jake remembers that it’s a Tuesday because he had been out grabbing a quick bite for lunch with Javy and the little chalkboard on the wall of the cafe had proclaimed that Tuesday’s special was linguine in white wine with fresh mussels. (Jake deals with grief and love)

Made me cry a goddamn river. I’ve said this before, but Hangster is one of those ships that I had trouble getting into. When I first got into the fandom back in June 2022, I strictly read Icemav, never dipping my toes into Hangster’s relationship because I never felt the spark. But as time goes by I’m starting to warm up and have read more and more. This fic is one of those where it captured my attention instantly. I knew it was going to be angsty, but still holding out hope for a happy ending (just like Jake in this story). The grief that blanketed the whole writing only made the resolution more beautiful.

WHORES IN MY BED. by pornogirl

“Jake-” Bradley’s eyes have a wet glimmer to them, the kind of wet that looks like the beginnings of tears and Jake wants to kiss him so badly. “Jake, is it loaded?” Jake rolls his eyes at the question. “Open your fucking mouth.” (Author’s notes: it's really not as bad as the tags may suggest but like. read the fucking tags!)

I’m a freak and I’m not ashamed of it:) Basically, Jake's going on about how pretty Bradley is crying and scared. If this is your kink, definitely worth the read. I don’t know if it’s because I find it hot, but I don’t get the unsafe feeling as opposed to reading other works that have noncon elements. I don’t know it feels more like it’s both of their kinks or like something they’ve discussed before but Jake didn’t warn Bradley prior. Like CNC, I guess? Anyway it’s really hot and I have not looked at my retainers the same way;)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule @baroness-elsa

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

This is so Jake and Bradley I’m blown away by how right they feel. Seriously. I didn’t even notice this was 66k words. The vibes, the writing, Jake’s family. Oh hell. Definitely check out the author’s other works too! They’ve got a lot of other Hangster long fics:)

cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn

Jake was slumped in the doorway, propped up against the wall beside the door. He was a strange, pale, near-gray against the dark backdrop of his apartment, and he looked—well… “You look like shit," Bradley said. – Bradley draws the short straw and has to take care of Jake when he's sick with a stomach flu. Jake doesn't want to be taken care of.

Sigh. Jake and Bradley, man. They’re the ship that you can shove as much angst as you want and it’ll fit right in with their dynamic. They’re just so stubborn!!!! The push and pull between them is magnetic, man. I think I get why people love them.

habits by rararatatouille

Jake and Bradley come together in a series of jagged stops and starts. They fall apart in the exact same way. In which habits are hard to break, even for the people we love most.

Mannnnn. Goddamnit. I think this fic converted me to like Hangster. I think this has become canon in my brain too. I can’t even. Just read it. Words aren’t enough to describe this fic. 

Days Like This by chase_acow @cowsalot

Jake's in Hawaii to lose himself after getting the Navy's first air-to-air kill in decades. Instead he finds a ramshackle diner, a cast of odd characters, and possibly the love of his life. Bradley goes to the Hard Deck to order waffles. He orders waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck to get some waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck, and who is this hot asshole acting like they know each other?

So good. A 50 First Dates AU. Jake just loves Bradley so much, man. And Bradley finally showing up in the end. Love really will make you walk miles across Earth for your special person<3

OTHERS

Other pairings, romantic and not.

Mr. Blue Sky by omnidirectional

Tragedy first brings Iceman into Bradley’s life, but he quickly becomes the steadiest presence of the boy’s childhood… until a betrayal tears their small family apart. After years of silence, can Bradley find the words to make up for lost time? Five times Ice sings to Bradley, and the one time Bradley sings to Ice.

Another one from omnidirectional. Ice and Bradley’s father and son relationship… Here’s one of the tags: Who Wants To Cry Today? If you’re up for emotional damage, click the link🫵

On Mighty Wings by PurpleArrowzandLeather @purplearrowzandleather-blog

Maverick raised geese over the years while Bradley was gone. Bradley does not know this until the flock comes home for the summer.

Short and sweet. Legend author as well. Love the geese preening Mav and Bradley sobbing while surrounded by honks. This is just too damn cute!!

Neglected by proprioception @mnstrfkr

"Do I look God-fearing to you, ma'am?" Maverick asked with a grin. "You most certainly do not," Carole said. "That's why I didn't marry you." "That and the mustache," Goose added.

Can’t forget about this GooseMavCarole fic of course! Hot and heartwarming. Absolutely amazing smut. This one sparked my brain to make a fanart of my favorite polycule. Their dynamic is just so fun!

Yearling by Fopperies , pohjanneito @pilvimarja

Alone in a cabin in the snowy mountains, Maverick is supposed to help Bradley on the path to presenting as an alpha soon. Bradley's body has other ideas.

Just gonna put this here… A different take on ABO’s biology, which I absolutely love. It’s so hot… Bradley, I feel you, honey…

Seeing a Trailer by daenabenjen42

In the aftermath of the Layton rescue, Merlin has questions.

Sighs for the millionth time. It’s so good. Again, I love the portrayal of Mav’s PTSD and grief here. And it’s not just him, but daenabenjen42 wrote about the other boys’ trauma too. I love it so much I must’ve reread this one about fifty million times. 

in between what's already done by crawsley

“We aren’t doing this,” Maverick says, firmly, and he’s tensing like he’s about to move, about to shove Rooster off of him, push him away like he pushed him away before, when all Rooster had wanted was some guidance, some help, some love and kindness and— Rooster bears him to the ground, right there on the rug in the entryway.

This is legitimately one of the first, if not the first fic I’ve read from RoosMav. I still remember clearly going home from watching TG:M in the cinema and KNOWING that there were definitely going to be people who ship Mav and Roo. I rushed to AO3 straight away:D Imagine my delight when finding this one!

shake my nerves and rattle my brain by BogBeast

This wasn’t supposed to be intimate. This was about punishment, humiliation, stubbornness and spite. Not this gentle crap that made him sigh, the hand in his hair making his stomach swoop with every tug, the heavy scent making his head feel foggy, the praises making his heart skip a beat. That shit is just weird. The horrifying realization that he’s hard in his flight suit has nothing to do with it.  - Mav's gotten them into a lot of weird situations, but giving blowjobs to their rivals because of a stupid bet has to be the weirdest one.

Icemav AND Sloose? SIGN ME UP, BABY!

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That’s all of it! This is my list for now. Thank you all for reading through to the end! Let me know if you enjoyed any of these fics so we can gush about them together:) I hope you enjoyed my yapping:}

My works have always and will continue to take inspiration from others. So thank you for creating stories as beautiful and profound as these, dear beloved authors<3

If you want to see my bookmark collection of all of these fics, click here >> TOPGUN (Best of the Best) While you’re there, how about you read some of my fics too?>:) EliasHirsch

(PS!!! There will be a 4th part because there are definitely more good fics that people need to know about:))

[roseofdarknessblog]

Taking chances (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 4 540

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: A year after the Rumbling, Levi finally has the chance to open the tea shop he always wanted. But due to his lasting health issues, he doesn't think it's a good idea.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Taking chances

„Thank you so much, have a lovely day,“ you said and smiled at the elder lady, who handed you a piece of cheese wrapped in brown waxed paper. She already knew both you and Levi because her amazing selection of cheeses made you come back to her little stall every single time. „Here, you can cross off another item from the shopping list.“

„It's still ridiculously long,“ Levi muttered, taking the cheese from your hands and putting it in your favorite wicker basket you loved taking to the farmers market. When he came with you, he always kept it in his lap while your shopping list was in his hand with a pencil he used to check off the things you've already bought. „Do we really need all of this?“

„How do you expect me to cook if we don't have food at home?“ you teased him lovingly, before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. When he was sitting in his wheelchair, he simply had to put up with this cute little habit of yours.

While he wasn't a huge fan of PDA, you loved showing him love and affection anytime and anywhere. But only if it didn't make him feel too uncomfortable. After all, with a husband so handsome and charming, you simply couldn't help it. You wanted the whole world to know just how much you loved him.

Even more, because he didn't think of himself as handsome and charming.

„Right, you need lots of things because you keep messing up,“ he teased you, looking over his shoulder to see your reaction.

„Oh, stop that! I'm getting better at cooking and baking. Just ask Onyankopon, he's very proud of my progress.“

During your life in the Survey Corps, you never had time to learn your way around the kitchen. Cooking and baking were foreign territory to you, so now you had to learn almost everything. All you could do by yourself were the most basic things. But Onyankopon was so nice that he agreed to teach you. While on Paradis, he never mentioned just how great of a cook he was, so it was a huge surprise for both you and Levi.

He used to come over whenever he had some time, commanding you around in your small kitchen. With all the patience in the world, he explained everything and helped you prepare many delicious sweet, and savory dishes. The bad thing was, that they almost always turned out good solely when he was there. When you tried doing some of them alone... the kitchen ended up looking like a battlefield and the food was questionable.

„And hey, if you don't like my cooking, how about you take over? I'll gladly stand by and comment on everything like you always do it to me.“

„Not that I would be standing around...“

You chuckled when he tilted his head back and looked at you. It was such a shitty thing to say, that only Levi would do it and make fun of himself. And to be honest, he didn't do it often. Only on very rare occasions, which came once in a blue moon.

„The point is, I'm making progress. Soon I'll be the better cook of the two of us.“

„Yeah, only in your dreams. Learning how to prepare tea the way I like it took you almost two decades,“ he scoffed.

Sometimes it really made you upset. The fact, that your husband, who was missing an eye, two fingers and had trouble standing or walking without aid, was a better cook than you. It seemed that he knew his way around the kitchen naturally, while you felt like a fish on the shore – disoriented and full of panic. While Levi handled everything with grace, you were a walking disaster.

„The funny thing is that you hated cooking in the past. In the Underground... you hated that shitty little kitchen we had.“

He nodded slowly. „That's why Furlan was the one in charge.“

You smiled upon hearing his name. It's been so many years since he, Isabel, Levi and you lived together under the Capital of Paradis. Despite that, you still remembered the day the three of them left and you stayed behind. It took Levi almost a year until he came back for you – after Furlan and Isabel passed away during their first expedition beyond the Walls. Since then, it was only you and Levi. Through thick and thin, leading the Survey Corps by Erwin and Hange's side, and surviving the Rumbling, which wiped out 80% of the population.

It was a true miracle, that you two were still alive and now living a completely different life after so many years of fighting for the sake of humanity.

The Rumbling happened more than a year ago and since then... well, countless things changed. For the better and for the worse. Leaving Paradis behind, managing Levi's health, getting used to so many new things in the outside world, getting engaged and married just half a year later... Too many things were completely different from a year ago.

Both of you were still suffering and recovering at the same time. While you only mentally, Levi was still dealing with a lot of pain and discomfort. On top of all the mental health issues, he had to face himself as well. Nightmares kept coming and going for the both of you, while your own anxiety was sometimes threatening to suffocate you. Although it wasn't as bad as before, when you weren't even able to walk down the street due to the fear of the new place and people, you were still having a hard time with many things.

Healing was simply taking... too much time. At least that's how you saw it. Yes, you got to survive and have a future, but this still wasn't the life you so desperately wanted. Not for you and not for Levi. His disabilities... hurt you in a way you had no idea you could hurt. Ever. It was a brand new kind of pain you didn't know even existed before. It was coming from your own inability to help him be the man he was before. The man he wanted to be again.

„You okay?“ Levi asked after a long moment of silence, as you were making your way through the farmers market of the little seaside town you were living in now. Early Wednesday mornings were the best time to come – many great deals that would be available throughout the whole day, but still just a few people.

Everything looked very pretty and calming in the soft morning lights. All the colors of everything you laid your eyes on. The sellers were nice and friendly, many of them already knowing who you and Levi were. Some of them liked to chat with you a little every time you came here, others simply said hello and gave you a bright smile. It looked like... it looked like they were truly grateful, that thanks to you and your comrades, they still have all of this – their homes, jobs, families, friends, and their lives.

But despite being grateful and happy, that you found such a nice place to live, sometimes it got too much. All the noises from the people, who were watching you and who knew your identity. Sometimes... it simply didn't feel right to you.

Forcing your lungs to take a long and deep breath was suddenly too hard. You could feel the familiar uneasiness rise inside your chest, making it feel uncomfortably tight. „Yeah, yeah... just got a little lost in my thoughts. I'm fine.“

„Don't go down the rabbit hole again.“ You nodded even if Levi couldn't see you. He was right, tho. Getting drowned in your own memories and worries would only end up in falling back into depression once again. And avoiding that was your main goal every single day. You didn't spend so many years fighting to be killed by your own mind when the war was finally over. „Focus on what we need to get next,“ he said in a calm tone. „Breathe and try to stay in this moment with me.“

You tried taking a deep breath again, succeeding this time, as you continued walking forward, pushing Levi's wheelchair in front of you. For a moment, you stopped looking around and kept your eyes on the top of his head in front of you, focusing on breathing as calmly as possible. „Okay, what else do we need? You have the shopping list.“ Keeping your body busy and mind distracted by the truly important things was the key. Your past didn't need you, but the present moment did. And with it, Levi needed you as well.

And after all... nothing was happening at that moment. Nothing. Everything was completely okay. You were safe, had your husband close and together you were doing one of the most mundane tasks of an ordinary life. All you had to do, was keep yourself grounded and slow down your racing heart, that was freaking out for no logical reason.

Levi looked at you for a moment and after you gave him a reassuring smile, he started reading all the things you wanted to buy – onions, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, rice, bread, eggs, apples, and cherries. You nodded at every word he said, slowly letting go of your memories once again and focusing on shopping.

You kept your mind busy by looking at the different stalls once again, taking in every little detail that caught your eye. All the vegetables, fruits, spices, and many more things needed for the kitchen, or other parts of the household. You focused on how the sellers arranged their products, on the prices written on little blackboards, or on the fresh flower decorations some of them had put on. You took in the whole atmosphere of the market, letting it pull you back into reality.

Within the next hour, you got everything you needed and also a little something that was not part of your shopping list. You simply couldn't say no to a couple of incredibly smelling herb bars of soap and to a nice straw hat with a yellow ribbon. Your last stop was a little stall, where a young man was selling different kinds of teas or homemade fruit juices. Without a doubt, this stall was Levi's favorite and you had to make a stop every single time and get at least one thing. So by the time you were truly done shopping, the basket in Levi's lap was almost completely full.

„Ready to head back home? It's about time we eat some breakfast.“ your husband asked, while you were pushing his wheelchair away from the farmers market.

„Not quite yet,“ you said, smirking a little for yourself.

„What? Why not?“ He sounded a little annoyed, but when you didn't say anything else, he decided not to ask and simply trust you. The additional journey you were making was just a short one. Your surprise stop was just a few doors down the street you lived on.

When you stopped in front of a small and empty shop next to a toy store, which was very popular with all the kids in the town, Levi looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows. You smiled at him, squeezing his left shoulder lovingly.

„What the hell are you smiling about?“ he asked, placing his hand on top of yours, his warm skin coming in contact with the cold metal of your wedding band. It was simple but held so many beautiful memories. Your wedding was small, but all the more precious and simply perfect. The calm and warm atmosphere, that your closest friends helped to create, was exactly what you were looking for – on your wedding day and in your marriage as well.

„Onyankopon said, that there used to be a caffé. It closed down around the same time we moved here,“ you stood next to him and started explaining, your voice calm but with a tiny hint of excitement. „It's for sale now and it seems nobody is really interested.“

„And?“ Levi asked, still not understanding why you were telling him all this.

You took one last deep breath, fairly afraid to continue. „What if we bought it?“

He furrowed his brows even more, pulling his hand back and putting it around the basket in his lap. It seemed that he had a truly hard time finding the right words for your offer.

„Are you out of your mind? What the hell would we do with a place like this?“ he spoke finally, his voice surprisingly cold and flat.

„We could open that tea shop you always wanted,“ you said quietly, locking eyes with him, when he looked in your direction again, his hand once again finding yours. His confused expression seemed almost too cute. „I mean... we still have some money left and... well...“

„Spit it out!“ he commanded, his grip on your hand getting stronger.

„I went to the Town Hall and asked around about this place. They said that if we wanted to open our own business of any kind, the town would lend us money, to help us set everything up and actually start earning. Eventually, we'll have to pay it back, obviously.“

Despite this little risk, it still seemed like an amazing opportunity. You knew how much Levi wanted his own tea shop. It was his dream for many years and now it was finally close enough to grab and turn into reality.

„What do you think?“ you asked him when he didn't react to your previous words. Sadly, everything was written all over his face, which became blank and almost sad.

„I don't think it's a good idea, Y/N. Not when I'm like this,“ he said almost too quietly, letting go of your hand.

You immediately shook your head. „Hey, hey... listen, don't talk like that!“ Even if he tried his best to adjust to the new reality, you knew Levi was suffering every single day. He wasn't able to find peace with how things turned out for him. Not even after a whole year, was he truly content with his disabilities. Not after being active throughout his whole life and being known as Humanity's strongest soldier.

When it came to walking, he was able to do it – with the help of his cane or while you were holding one of his arms, to help him with stability. But bearing his own weight for a longer time was simply too much for his left knee. Walking and standing caused him excruciating pain almost every single time, so he really had no other option except to use his wheelchair.

That fact alone wasn't even what made him so angry. It was the reality of appearing weak and vulnerable. Something he was never used to. Not, when during your time with the Scouts he was always the one people relied on. He was a living and breathing legend everybody knew about – people from all branches of the military and civilians as well.

„We would manage. I know we would, darling,“ you said, interlocking your fingers again and lovingly kissing the top of his head. „We need something to do. Something that will give our lives a new meaning. Something that will keep us busy.“ Money was always needed, but it wasn't the main reason now. All you wanted, was something that would help you and Levi heal further. Something, that would help you find a new purpose.

Levi shook his head without looking at you. To be honest, you weren't expecting a reaction like this. Wide smiles and loud cheers weren't his thing either but.... you truly felt disappointed in the lack of interest he showed. The lack of will to turn his dream into reality.

„Levi, having a place like this has always been your dream and...“

„Enough, let's go home,“ he hissed through gritted teeth, looking down the almost empty street, which was illuminated by the warm sunlight. It looked like today was going to be another beautiful summer day.

„But...“

„I said enough!“ he repeated himself a bit louder, his right hand, which was missing two fingers, curling into a fist. „Let's go home.“ You could hear the pain in the tone of his voice, but you did obey this time. With one last look at the empty shop, you took hold of his wheelchair once again and started walking towards your little apartment on the ground floor, which was just a few minutes away.

The day went by rather quickly. Maybe because you spent half of it in the kitchen. You managed to prepare a pretty good pasta salad and your cherry pie also turned out edible. A little sour because of the cherries and the lack of sugar, but you liked it anyway. It was probably one of the best things you've ever baked.

„May I come in?“ you asked after knocking on the bedroom door. Levi spent the whole day inside, reading and trying to appear busy, so he didn't have to talk to you. He barely even said anything while you were eating together.

When he stayed quiet, you rested your forehead against the door with a silent sigh. Communication was the most important thing in every single relationship. Romantic or not. And while both you and Levi knew it, sometimes it was simply too hard to sit down and open up about what was troubling you.

„Darling...“ you said quietly, keeping your hand on the door handle. „I'm really sorry if I made you feel upset or angry with that idea. That wasn't my intention at all.“

Some days it was very hard to find the right words. Hurting him or making him feel sad was the last thing you wanted. That's why sometimes it was better to stay quiet and simply wait it out. Give him the space to grieve the past, present, and future.

„I'll go make something for dinner, then. What would you like?“ you asked after another moment of painful silence. It seemed, that backing down was the smartest move to do.

But just before you walked away, you heard Levi's voice from behind the door. He said your name quietly, maybe hoping that you had already left. That's why you waited for a second and only then slowly opened the door. You found your husband sitting on the edge of the bed, a closed book put down next to him.

„Can we talk?“ you asked, not sure about what was going through his head when he looked up at you. His face seemed much more tired than in the morning, even though last night was full of nightmares. For the both of you, unfortunately.

For the past few nights, you weren't able to escape one of the worst memories of your life – leaving Hange behind, while they held up Eren's Titans. Having Hange in your life felt almost natural since the very first day you spent aboveground. They were simply always there, for you and for others. Accepting their fate felt as if somebody was ripping your heart out of your chest, while you were screaming and begging them to stop torturing you.

„Look, I'm sorry about the way I reacted earlier,“ Levi said, gripping the edge of the bed with one of his hands. It almost seemed that looking up and into your eyes took all his energy. „I know you only meant well. You always do.“

With a loving smile on your lips, you came to sit down next to him. „I thought you would be excited at least a little bit,“ you admitted, very carefully inching your hand closer to his. Any kind of physical contact was a hit or miss in these kinds of situations so you always tried to be as careful as possible. „Did it scare you? The possibility of truly turning your dream into reality?“

„It made me feel upset... angry, even.“

„Why?“

He took a deep breath, searching for the best words to use so you would understand his inner conflict over this whole situation. „How am I supposed to run my own business like this?“ The way he looked over at his left leg broke your heart. The tone of his voice was so cold and angry. So disappointed.

„You know more than well, that I would have your back. It would be our responsibility, not solely yours, Levi,“ you tried explaining, while the tips of your fingers brushed against his skin. When he didn't pull his hand away, you very gently grabbed it. „I know it's difficult, I really do. I try to understand the best I can. And you know that I support you in everything. But... not now. You're going to regret it, if we don't buy that empty store and put in all the work, to make your dream come true.“

Levi closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, his body tiredly leaning against yours. He pulled his hand from your grip so he could wrap his arm around your waist to keep you close. Confused, you leaned your head against his, waiting for him to say or do something.

„I'm beyond blessed to have you by my side after all the shit we went through. Sometimes... I still think it's a dream. I think about how I'm going to wake up back in the Scout's HQ with your death report on my desk.“

„Levi...“ You felt a lump form in your throat upon hearing his broken voice. You had a few close calls with death, but you always pulled through, thankfully.

„And when I finally realize, that we made it out of that hell alive, I feel like... like I'm not allowed to ask or wish for anything else.“ His grip around your waist tightened a little, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. „I have you, we're married and we have a fairly nice roof over our heads. Why should I ask for anything else?“

You swallowed hard, battling with your emotions, as your right hand started rubbing his back comfortingly. „Because you can. And you really should, you deserve it. Every good thing this world has to offer because you were the one, who sacrificed the most to save humanity.“

„No, you don't get it...“

„I think I do,“ you interrupted him. „And I don't agree with you. Most people in your place would be selfish and take everything that was offered to them. Every single thing, without thinking about it for more than a few seconds. They would take every chance to do something for themselves to feel good and happy. To put their wants and dreams before everything else.“

„I'm not most people.“

„I know, but I think that right now, you should try being like them. For this one thing, you always wanted so much.“ You could tell he didn't like the tone in which you were talking to him, but you kept on going. All you wanted, was for him to be happy and have everything he ever wanted. Absolutely everything. „If you're scared about looking selfish or anything similar, you don't have to. I want this too, Levi. For us. Owning and running such a place will help us heal even more and that's what we want, right?“

When he took a deep breath but didn't actually say anything, you knew you hit a very sensitive spot. Unfortunately, this was how healing looked like for you and Levi. Constantly getting uncomfortable and being forced to face your darkest and most painful emotions and thoughts. Admitting, that you simply weren't the same people as last year. Accepting, that this was your reality, your life.

„I know it hurts, Levi. I know it, I see the suffering in your eyes every single day, even if I sometimes don't say anything. But if we don't force ourselves to...“

„I can't fucking walk!“ he screamed out, putting all of his anger and frustration into those four words. You could feel his whole body shake a little, while he was still leaning against you, his breathing becoming a bit heavier.

„I know,“ you said almost inaudibly, your hand traveling from his back to the back of his head. While you could feel your eyes filling up with tears, you tried staying as calm as possible, letting your fingers run through his silky soft hair.

What broke your will to stay strong, was when you noticed that Levi was crying. Tears were running down his cheeks, his lips pressed into a thin line so as to not let out a single sound. Since the Rumbling, you have seen and heard him cry more times than throughout your entire time together. And despite that, you still felt unimaginable pain, when tears rolled down his cheeks again.

„We promised each other that we'll be happy,“ you said after a minute, pressing a kiss into his hair. „And opening that tea shop is one huge step closer to that happiness. It will work out, I know it will. I'm sure.“ No, you weren't. But you had to lie to yourself and him, to keep your true emotions in check. „You don't have to give me an answer right now, just promise me that you'll think about it.“

Very gently, you pulled away from him and held his face in your warm hands. Your thumbs wiped away every single tear, while you forced your lips to form a smile. Seeing him so broken and sad was the worst possible punishment for a loving wife like you. For someone, who was with Levi since before he joined the Scouts. He suffered a horrible amount of pain throughout the years, and yet nothing broke him like this. Nothing left him feeling so powerless.

„You are still you, Levi,“ you whispered, pressing your lips to his forehead. Keeping your own tears from rolling down your cheeks was becoming harder and harder, almost impossible by the time you pulled away. „And I really hope you'll let yourself be truly happy one day.“

„Nothing will ever make me happier than having you by my side,“ he said, when you wiped away the last of his tears, before leaning in for a sweet long kiss. Your foreheads ended up resting against each other, as Levi kept his eyes closed, focusing on calming down his own emotions, taking slow deep breaths alongside you. „Thank you for giving me this opportunity.“

„You know I'll do anything for you. Anything.“ In the past, you killed for this man. You killed Titans and humans to keep him alive. And if it came down to it, you would do it again. Without any hesitation.

When silence fell over the bedroom, you knew the discussion was over. At least for today. When Levi wrapped his arms around you and when he hid his face in the crook of your neck, you finally let some of your tears fall. Holding him tight as he started crying silently once again, you hoped with your whole heart, that today was another step forward and closer to happiness.

[avelera]

Thinking about the lovely “New Inn Through the Ages” post by @virgo-dream in terms of alternatives to the popular “Hob built the New Inn for Dream after the missed 1989 meeting” headcanon.

- Quick disclaimer, this headcanon always mildly (and irrationally, this is fandom after all) irked me because to my pedantic, archaeology-obsessed ass, the New Inn was obviously visually at least 200 years old just based on the brick work so “built” never really worked, at most Hob could have purchased or renovated it if it was in response to 1989. To some that’s splitting hairs but what can I say, I never pretended to be rational about dumb history stuff.

- THAT SAID, it would be kind of interesting if Hob does own the New Inn but not necessarily since 1989, but even earlier. It could even be interesting for him to have built the New Inn in truth but back in the 1700s when the building was actually built.

- Hob appears not just comfortable at the White Horse in its 1889 but at the very least a regular. He recognizes Lou on sight and names her immediately, he knows her nickname at the establishment. This familiarity doesn’t track if this is his first time at the White Horse since 1789.

- After 1689, Hob appears to have opted to buy out a private room for them for their discussion, perhaps in response to his return in fortunes but also perhaps based on the memory of being nearly thrown out in 1689 and interrupted by Shaxberd in 1589. The guy is learning how to better manage their encounters. So it stands to reason that after they were interrupted by Constantine in 1789 as a result of her paying off the proprietor, that Hob would simply buy out the inn for 1889.

- Hob owning the White Horse in 1889 actually rather tracks with his familiarity with Lushing Lou and the fact that he’s so at ease there and clearly arrived well before Dream. He speaks to Lou with authority and is dressed with signs of at least middle class prosperity. Being the owner of the White Horse tracks with that level of prosperity shown, nothing flashy, after all it’s in a bad part of town these days.

- Thing is, Hob has a mind for business as we see in numerous instances at the centennial meetings. As a result, to me, it wholly tracks that he wouldn’t stop at buying the White Horse, he’d also purchase a few neighboring taverns and inns once he got a hang of the business. (Consolidation of neighborhood pubs under mega corporation ownership in the 1990s is its own interesting side note on this because again, I’m a history nerd.) The New Inn is presented as so close to the White Horse that a graffiti arrow is enough to point it out. That’s very close indeed.

- SO, I think from this it’s reasonable to say that Hob could very well have owned the New Inn as part of one of his business ventures since the 19th century or earlier, perhaps even as a result of the 1789 meeting and “Finding another pub”, perhaps even building the New Inn then in truth either before or after the meeting as an alternative in case another lunatic Constantine shows up. It’s so close by he might have hoped he could persuade Dream with its proximity.

- Right then, if that’s true, why can’t Hob save the White Horse?

- Perhaps after 1889 he simply sold his ownership stake in it. Heartbroken and angry at himself, especially if he’d provided all these contingencies like the New Inn in case of interruptions or other disasters, he might have just felt as much like a fool as in 1589 when he tried to provide a fine meal. Probably best to just give up and stop trying to control matters, since look where that got him.

- So he sells the White Horse. But the other inns don’t have the same emotional stake and business is business, so he sets those up with a “family trust” to keep running, lending the building out to different managers, etc. and simply carries on.

- Cue his look of devastation in 1989 upon learning the White Horse is going to shut down. If he once owned it, it might be a particular gut punch to know he could have prevented this if he hadn’t let his bitterness get the better of him. Despite his best efforts, he can’t prevent it from being condemned.

- LUCKILY he still had his own business interests nearby in the form of those pubs he built or bought centuries ago. He dusts off his paperwork around the New Inn and reassumes direct management (or at least, his nephew does in a few years). The 1789 “nearby pub” contingency might just pay off in the 21st century, who knows? And it worked!

And there you have it. My take on how Hob could have built the New Inn starting from its actual original construction. Very fun to consider too when you check out Virgo’s post and discover that a Mr. Hobert did indeed own it at one point ;)

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 8

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Elijah knew the Dreaming turned into a wasteland, but it didn’t hit him what a wasteland actually looked like. “ Lucienne, lock all doors, gates, windows. Any creation of my husband that is in the Dreaming must seek protection immediately. A dove will be sent when it is safe to leave.” ‘If it is ever safe to leave’ Love thought while marching through the hall straight to the throne room. The librarian followed the Queen’s fast pace, as Elijah stayed behind, analyzed his surroundings

He vaguely remembered the Dreaming. He didn’t think it was nearly as beautiful as the Garden, but it was alluring. Incohesive to his eyes, due to its ever-changing nature. Even if the Garden, like the Dreaming, was susceptible to its creator's mood and condition, the Garden kept his core unchanged, it was consistent, stable for the lovefolk. The same could not be said about the Dreaming. And Elijah could clearly understand why the Emissary was hesitant and why Eoster was running around giving urgent orders to Lucienne.

They could very realistically be on the verge of a disaster.

The Dreaming was collapsing, which means the King was weak. Lucifer has one of his prized possessions. Morningstar has the trap set and Dream walked right into it.

“Spells or anything against demons. Check Constantine book, maybe it has something. We need it. Now.” Enfatic saying to the librarian, she turned to the cupid “Elijah, find ink, prepare the doves” It didn’t occur to her that there weren't any doves in the Dreaming, nor ravens. Elijah would have to find a way to warn their allies. They would be easy to find. Only a few entities were not fond of her, especially since she had taken a vast number of protégés, blessed many unions and was a godmother of gods knew how many children from these unions.

“Allies? My lady, we are not at war.” Lucienne said it with a gasped nervous laugh of uncertainty. Hands slightly shaking and hesitant. In her eyes the need for something to hold to, something to believe in.

Love was skeptical about her husband’s return. He was Endless, but his state was frail, crumbling to pieces like his own realm. And Lightbringer would see that. An opportunity. Lucifer always sees an opportunity, and one as delicious as an Endless desperate to get his tools back? The fallen angel was going to make him risk it all. And Morpheus would have no alternative but to accept it.

She couldn’t lie to the librarian, saying that everything was fine. Lucienne saw the restlessness in the Garden. Elijah and the Emissary agitated, promptly abiding Love’s demands. If she tried to lie, the librarian would be skeptical of her word. At the same time, it was her duty to care for her husband's creations. She needed to give them hope. If Lucienne, his most loyal dream, gave up on him, there would be no one left to fight for.

“You are right. We are not at war, but it might be wise to prepare. Demons can be erratic.” Love answered promptly. This wasn’t the time to argue about the necessity of raising defenses.

“I believe in Lord Morpheus” Lucienne faced her queen, fixing her glasses. Lucienne’s tone questioning Love's faith in the Dream King. Eoster couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t convince herself of any different outcome than defeat on her husband’s part.

She was also furious with his recklessness, doing the same mistake that got him imprisoned in first place and led to the loss of his prized possessions. Acting before thinking, acting before having a proper conversation with his wife, without tracing a proper plan.

He may not respect her as a wife. He may not want to talk about their relationship. But, politically speaking, she was his queen, she was responsible for his realm in his absence. The bare minimum would’ve been to let her know that he planned to throw his freedom away and deliver it on a silver platter to Lucifer.

Love took a step forward, enterwinding her fingers pressing them against her corset. She kept her face neutral but her green eyes sparkled with authority. It occurred to her that Lucienne never had to take direct orders from Love. Usually Love’s requests were supported by a previous order from Dream. How strange it must be to have to blindly follow Love’s without the king’s approval.

Love took that into account when choosing her words. “As you should. Defying my husband was a mistake and Lucifer will learn it the hardest way. Morningstar is a sore loser and might not want to give in easily. We must be prepared. When he returns, My lord husband will be displeased if we let erratic demons creep into his realm.” Promises of a doubtful return that Love made as a certainty.

The librarian's eyes kept still on the Queen, as if looking for something of a doubt. But Love turned her back, dismissing her “ Protection spells might be enough,”

Lucienne bowed before leaving the throne room, going to the library.

Love waited until she was certain she was alone, taking a deep breath, as filling her lungs with air would somehow ease her mind. Losing the posture, dragging herself up to the throne, sitting under it, leaning her head in the seat. She couldn’t occupy his seat. It could send the wrong message, like a claim she didn’t want to state. Besides, even the thought of occupying his seat seemed like a bad omen, like she was already sealing Dream’s fate. Sitting at the thorne's feet seemed more appropriate. Always at Morpheus' feet, never at his side. A position quite too familiar.

She should’ve known that his sympathy last night was hiding something. His secrecy with Matthew, and the sudden stop when she arrived. He knew he was going. This was the type of thing he should discuss with her, not with his raven. And more importantly, he should not waste their last night together in poor attempts at flattering!

Did he think she was that naive? Or that superficial? That a praise here and there, a kind word, would thaw her frozen heart, so she could grieve for him? For his realm? Beg to Lightbringer for mercy?

Love was already imagining the mess of his loss. There would be two sides that would split entities and anthropomorphic manifestations. The mortal realm would be chaos for who knows how long. Some would probably lose their lives, realms could be destroyed. All would burden her shoulders, terrorize her nights.

One side would support the narrative of: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Suppose Lucifer wants to enslave the Dream Lord. The angel gets control of the Dreaming. And since Lady Love is bonded by the Book Before Time under the laws of the True Marriage, to Morpheus, she carries half of his soul. Since the Dream King is enslaved and Eoster is also part of his essence, Lucifer has a claim of Eoster and the Garden. Not only the fallen angel would have two realms, but two powerful entities as playthings. That would be his claim. A very good, and logical one, in Eoster’s opinion. Easy to support.

The other side, the one that Love would try to persuade Lords and Ladies to abide, would be: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Lady Love is bonded to Dream by the Book Before Time under the laws of True Marriage. Since Lady Love carries half of his soul, and The Dreaming is her husband’s essence, The Dreaming is hers, as it is Morpheus’. By ancient law, before the oldest game, The Dreaming and her husband’s creations are hers. And since she wasn’t the one who lost nor agreed to gamble her realms, Lucifer has no valid claims. Morpheus may be enslaved and unable to rule, but not his creations, since they are now Love’s.

It didn’t sound strong like the first one, but that would be what Love would have to claim, to stay in the Dreaming, deny and resist its take over. Protect her subjects. Her husband might be awful to her, but he created dreams, nightmares and stories, beyond her wildest imagination. They carry an important hole in the mortals' realm. To let it be destroyed and corrupted was unthinkable.

She remembered the night before, her husband’s soft touch, the way his gaze rested in her face, his words. It was a farewell. He knew that he might not come back from Hell. Love didn’t know how to feel. He was imprisoned before, but she was not aware of it, of any suffering, and he was imprisoned by a mortal. Now it’s different. Lucifer could, or better, he wil.condemn him to eternal servitude, there would be no escape, no hope. She would be deserted. Alone. Fighting for a realm that the King never made to be a home for his Queen. A realm she felt responsible for.

It wasn’t like before, when she didn’t know if he would be back. This time, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t. “My Lady, what do we do, now?” Elijah’s voice made her raise her head from her hand, putting the curls that covered her vision out of her face. “Pray, my cupid. Seal the palace against demons and pray.”

The minutes turned to what seemed hours. Love heard a clock that wasn’t around, in her heels clicking on the floor, in Lucienne turning the pages, even in Elijah’s careful watch over the symbols draw to keep away demons. Love tried to make herself useful after pacing around the throne room, double checking all the entrances. Love hesitated in entering her husband’s quarters, but shook the feeling away, doing what was needed.

The last bedroom to be checked was hers. Lucienne left it half opened, and Love stayed in the middle of the hallways looking at the double doors. She wasn’t ready to deal with the past that laid inside that room. No longer she was the queen that lived there. She missed who she was. Hoping for it all, believing in the future promised in those forged letters by someone who wasn’t the one laying beside her. A blissful life, like the mortal’s she blessed, full of passionate love making, whispers of sweet promises, not a need in the universe the other couldn’t fulfill.

Love heard from someone she couldn’t remember, that the King of Dreams was so infatuated by his lovers that mortals would often dream of them. Love was humble enough to not think that it would be her case, but she did blindly believe that he would love her.

The memories from inside her room begged to differ.

Eoster took a deep breath, deciding to check the windows of the balcony, and go back to the throne room, not staying longer than necessary.

As she stepped inside, a crunchy noise was heard. Broken glass. She couldn’t tell if the smell of the room persisted from all those years, or it was her imagination. Roses, jasmyne and wine. It took her back, centuries ago. Her bed was a mess. Stained and creased white linen, pillows ripped, two in the bed, one on the floor, swan feathers everywhere. There were dresses tossed aside in her chaise lounge, unmatching heels scattered through the bedroom. Her vanity had a broken mirror. It was a disaster. A perfect scenery of the lowest point in their marriage.

Flashes from that night came straight to her head, like cutted scenes from a movie. Love’s head burned from each memory. Disgusting pleas, mixed with sobs, she collapsed on the floor. Head down in defeat, incomprehensible mumbles and eyes filled with tears that made it impossible to see anything other than a blurred vision of the marble floor.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but she didn’t care. He needed to get away from her.

“Leave”. Eoster repeated the words he coldly said it. Love never understood how he could watch her defeated and broken at his feet and not do anything at all.

It didn’t bring tears to her face. It wasn’t a sad memory. It was sour and left a weird taste in her mouth, something she felt ashamed of. That night, she questioned her own nature, if she deserved to be Lady of the Four Loves. Both said awful despicable things to each other.

One thing Love never admitted to anyone was that his decision in banning her from the Dreaming was for the best. Distance saved their marriage, not exactly saved, but preserved it. It calmed their nerves. Steady their emotions. Both could do their work, focus on the mortal realm, attend to their creations. True Marriage requires half of a soul, but it doesn't require them to share a home, a bed or even talk to one another. They would be together in reunions, conferences, sitting side by side in official events. He would summon her, when needed, and she would abide by his requests.

Love finished crossing the room, leaving the past behind, checking her balcony window, and taking a seat. Resting her back against the wall, she felt the cold silent air brushing against her face and brought her knees to her chest hugging them. Early stars shining above the realm's silhouette. The same view she used to stare while waiting. For the maids to fix her up to some event. For the Seamstress while adjusting one of her dresses for the evening. For Elijah. For Lucienne. For Dream. Her bedroom was more of a waiting room than anything else. All her life all she seemed to do is to wait.

Maybe it would be a good thing Lucifer taking control of the Dreaming. Maybe she could present herself favorable, relief even. The fallen angel could destroy the palace, destroy the rooms that terrorize her memories. Maybe Love could suggest to Lucifer to make Morpheus relieved their marriage but in her point of view. A torture even the cruelest demons would applause. It was tempting.

“ Lady wife” Eoster’s heart skip a beat, shutting down those traisoning thoughts. For the first time she was relieved to hear that deep calm voice. Tears almost came to her eyes, and she let out a breath she didn’t know was holding since earlier. Without turning, she could feel his presence at the door. “ You’ve returned.” She said it without any hint of worry.

“You seemed surprised. Did you not believe in me?” Love could feel his vacillating steps, like approaching a cornered dangerous animal. He remembers. She turned defeated, tired. “Don’t. Please” He stood quietly. She turned to him, saying in a quiet voice“ Why didn’t you tell me?” He raised an eyebrow “ Would you care?”

“I am your queen.” He perfectly knew what that meant. It didn’t matter if she cared or not. She should’ve known.

“ I had to restore my helmet.” He said it was the most logical response in the world. A final answer that justifies his whole sequence of inconsequential decisions.

It sent Love over the edge. Was he that oblivious? Didn’t he stop for even a second and think? She was at her feet quickly. “ You had to think sensibly, not impulsively barging into Hell!” She screamed angrily pacing through the bedroom, her steps almost opening a hole on the floor.

“ I was sensible! I did what I had to do. How did you expect me to rule?!” He replied screaming back. It came back to the fighting. The only language they seemed to understand.

“ I don’t know! But you should’ve consulted me! Talked to me!” Love’s voice got weak, her hand holding the bridge of her nose, shaking her head in denial, trying to avoid the knot in her throat. Taking a few seconds to regroup herself. Avoid all those convoluted feelings.

“Since when the Lady of the Four Loves is an expert in challenges in Hell?“ Morpheus grinded his teeth, trying to shove his angriness away. Why couldn’t she understand? He was rebuilding his realm. That was the only way he had to restore his possessions, even if that meant to put himself at risk. The night before, she made it perfectly clear that she did not care. Why was she upset?

“ Since when the Lord of Dreams is?!” Love was shaking, she didn't know how she was even able to keep walking back and forth in the room, because every fiber in her body was trembling.

“ Do you have any idea what the last hours have been like for me?! Making promises I didn’t even know if they were real. Promises that even I didn’t believe! Your librarian was in shambles, so I had to pick it up. And I didn’t know what to do. Prepare for a war? Search for you? Sit in the Garden and do nothing?!”

He tried to argue between her rants. “ I was going to tell you, last night. But you left before I could even say anything. I was trying-”

“Don’t lie to yourself!You didn’t plan to tell me anything! You were trying to court me to bed!” Poorly, she wanted to add. She saw men do it for centuries over love stories after love stories, telling their muses whatever they want to hear, luring them away from their senses with pretty words and impossible promises. It is easy for an innocent heart to fall for it, but not a seasoned one.

“ I did this for me as I did for you! Don’t you think that I know what would happen if Lightbringer or any other knew about my wounded state? If I did nothing, and waited, they would’ve come. And The Dreaming and you, I might add-” Love knew he was being sincere but couldn’t keep away her anguish.

“I was scared, Morpheus!” She let it out, before realizing what she said. He was stunted, his deep blue eyes confused but kept quiet. And she dared to repeat. Even if every inch of her body was trying to keep her from vomiting all her feelings. She repeated quietly, like she didn't want him to listen. Like admitting it to him, was admitting defeat. Her pride wonded by the confession. “I was scared. I thought…” She spoke before any sense of regretness made her quiet “You barely returned, and you were gone. Again. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid. For me, for the Dreaming, for your subjects… for you”

Both dropped in silence, things were escalating. Both their chest going up and down, they could feel the thickness of the air, the bedroom seemed smaller, and their loud voices seemed to echo through the walls.

The raven haired king never, in centuries, saw his wife in such a state. He remembered her earlier years of being lovable and understanding. The later years of her melancholy and bitterness, and her recent coldness and passive aggressiveness. But, apart from one time, he never saw her distressed, arms and hands trembling, trying to hold herself. Love never showed any weakness in front of him. She silently cried, but every single inch of her always breath royalty, always a proper queen. Even in their fallouts.

He didn’t know why he made his way towards her. Last night, Dream saw that Eoster preferred to avoid his touch, recoiling from even the most lightly innocent brush of fingers. But he was taken aback by her sincerity. The confession of fear, obliviousness in face of a situation he didn’t prepare her to. He felt guilt. His wife knew nothing of the Dreaming. He never bothered to teach her.

Now trying to understand her place, he couldn’t contain himself, but to walk to her, close enough to touch her face, her elaborated hairstyle was semi-undone, her brown curls falling in her face. Dream put them behind her ear, making his queen look at him. At first, by impulse, she tried to get away from him, but concead mumbling again about being scared. “ I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I did what needed to be done. Still, it was never my intention to distress you. Leaving you in the dark, I thought…”

He didn’t, actually. The Dream King thought his wife wouldn’t worry. He never thought she would be terrified with his departure. He didn’t think about the burden he dropped inadvertently at her feet. Seeing her as only his unhappy wife, not his queen. Queen of the Dreaming. The Queen who would deal with the consequences if anything happened differently than his win. An entity with no experience in quarrels beyond the ones of a relationship.

Morpheus didn’t know his wife at all, that was clear by the shock of knowing she would try to defend his realm. Even after the suffering he inflicted on her.

Dream leaned in,letting his forehead rest against hers, as both of his hands secured her face, whipping the salty tears in her cheeks. Eoster let out a deep sigh, still listening, she didn’t try to wriggle out of his touch. Morpheus whispered to her, trying to calm her down, like an intimate prayer shared only between them. “ Hope made me victorious. It is what kept my strength, even when Morningstar had the upper hand. Laying on the ground, almost giving up. It was hope that upheld me. Hope for the Dreaming, for a new dawn… for us.”

Love’s voice was almost a whisper, and if he wasn’t close enough to see her lips move, he would’ve thought it was the whispers of the wind. She frowned, letting the best of her senses behind, ignoring the pain, the memories, nudging against his nose, looking for comfort even for a brief moment. Eyes closed, as if opening them meant to face reality. “Husband… You yearn for what lovers share, that only lovers long and grieve for. Only lovers hope.”

She taught that lesson a hundred times to protegées: When lovers are together, they can give each other everything that matters to the heart: Affection, romance, friendship, passion, fidelity, devotedness, but only if their hopes are in perfect harmony. Strangers that share a bed when the flesh craved for warmth, or that were tricked into marrying someone they thought they loved, are never in harmony. Their hopes are always somewhere else.

Only lovers hope. He knew what she meant. They weren’t lovers. Never were. Silence fell among them again, his thumb caressing her soft wet skin. Love didn’t remember if she ever felt such gentleness emanating through his body, calming her trembling self. She didn’t want to let go.

“My Lady, it is all I plead you ” He begged against her skin, their lips almost brushing against each other. Love felt the warmth of his hands against her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, slightly pending her head in his hand. She opened her green watery eyes, staring at him. Either they look brighter with tears, or Morpheus never really paid attention to them.

Eoster knew what he was asking from her. A vow of faith. To believe in his hope. To believe in his change. With all of her heart she wished she could. The words she so longed to hear. She once wished for his love, with all of her heart and self. Now he wanted her to believe in their future.

She wished she could, she wished her memory was feeble, obliviating all those painful recollections of their time together. His coldness, neglectfulness, disregard. The constant humiliations of being looked at with pity in reunions and having to pretend to not see it, having to endure with elegance, mistress after mistress. Having her intentions questioned constantly. Her devotion, inquisitioned by her own husband. Tossed aside, used for relief and discarded. A pretty accessory parading around in the Prince of Stories’ arm. A cruel joke that Desire could tell to amuse others.

“I want to believe, my lord. How I wish I could…” She let the words trail off, pressing her hands harder against his, as if she could make it happen by physically holding onto him, holding the moment.

She wished to forget the past, the truth and live in this ethereal parenthesis where her husband cared, where he looked at her with worry, sorrow, guilt, and he yearned for her. A parenthesis between the quests to find his belongings.

But the truth hovered between them. It was smothered by a brief second, but it was there, already reopening the drift between them. It was impossible to be ignored.

The truth was they were spouses.

Not lovers.

They never were

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @direwombat

Tagging @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol @noodlecupcakes @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai + anyone else who want to join.

Two songs for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles respectively plus one WIP for Life, Despair & Monsters. You can listen and read these below the cut:

In The UnTitledverse, I've got a trilogy of DOOM WIPs (moreso focusing on the DOOM (2016) and DOOM: Eternal games, with references to the previous ones) creatively called DOOMed, it's prequel DOOMed: From The Start and the sequel DOOMed: Forth Til Eternity. This song though focuses on DOOMed: From The Start, which pretty much follows the events leading up to DOOMed. Furthermore, there are some OCs, some characters mentioned in this game (either by recording, data or dialogue) that will be present too AND as well as Olivia and Hayden. This is like a sitcom months before disaster strikes. Listen below:

"One, two, three, four

La, la-la, la-la-la, la La, la-la, la-la-la

Whatever happened to predictability? The milk man, the paper boy, the evening TV? How did I get delivered here? Somebody tell me please Cause this old world is just really confusing me

Clouds as mean as you've ever seen Ain't a bird that knows your tune Then, a little voice of you whispers "Kid, don't sell your dreams so soon!"

Everywhere you look, everywhere you go There's a heart (there's a heart), a hand to hold on to Everywhere you look, everywhere you go There's a face (there's a face), somebody who needs you

La, la-la, la-la-la, la La, la-la, la-la-la

Whatever happened to the good ol' days? Talking to friends for hours, swore it'd never go away Now, I'm feeling a little crazy, trying to fit in with a scene 'Cause how do you know where you're going, if you really don't know who you've been?

Everybody, eventually Says they are as lost as you So everybody, shout it together "Hey, don't sell your dreams so soon!"

Everywhere you look, everywhere you go There's a heart (there's a heart), a hand to hold on to Everywhere you look, everywhere you go There's a face (there's a face), somebody who needs you Everywhere you look, everywhere you go There's a heart (there's a heart), a hand to hold on to Everywhere you look, yeah

When you're lost out there, and you're all alone A light is waiting to carry you home Everywhere you look."

Keeping to Six Of Crows central theme, my How Good Is A Heist If It's Improvised? WIP explores it a bit more (with the addition of Isiah Popov and Gemini Teal apart of the Dregs). Anyway, this song definitely fits the theme of the book and WIP, even if its light tone hides the dark side in these two. Have a listen below:

"So no one told you life was gonna be this way Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA It's like you're always stuck in second gear When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year

But I'll be there for you (When the rain starts to pour) I'll be there for you (Like I've been there before) I'll be there for you ('Cause you're there for me too)

You're still in bed at ten and work began at eight You've burned your breakfast, so far things are going great Your mother warned you there'd be days like these Oh, but she didn't tell you when the world has brought You down to your knees that

I'll be there for you (When the rain starts to pour) I'll be there for you (Like I've been there before) I'll be there for you ('Cause you're there for me too)

No one could ever know me No one could ever see me Seems you're the only one who knows What it's like to be me Someone to face the day with Make it through all the rest with Someone I'll always laugh with Even at my worst, I'm best with you, yeah

It's like you're always stuck in second gear When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year

I'll be there for you (When the rain starts to pour) I'll be there for you (Like I've been there before) I'll be there for you ('Cause you're there for me too)

I'll be there for you I'll be there for you I'll be there for you 'Cause you're there for me too!"

Here's a WIP for my House Of The Dragon WIP The Thorned Crown Of Iron Thrones. Takes place weeks after both Aemma's death and Viserys marriage/consummation to Alicent. Corvus is stressing over the new tension between Rhaenyra and Alicent, but unluckily he finds solace with one noble Sir Enigma Malvolio, whose may be a tad strange but he's giving Corvus some floral remedies in the form of tea so he'll endure it; enjoy a history lesson from Malvolio below: [A/N Hey guys, if you noticed that this snippet is a bit clunky, that's because I had been sick at the time of writing the chapter it belongs to, so I wasn't at my best when I wrote this. Still feeling the after effects now even, but I should be fully recovered by tomorrow. Enjoy!]

"You know," Sir Enigma broke the awkward pause, back still to Corvus as he boiled more of the red petals, "There's an old wives tale about these flowers. Say, have you ever heard of the legend of the Court King, your highness?"

Corvus paused mid-sip, the floral scent of the tea clinging to the steam coming out of the cup and assaulting his nose. It was strong, certainly, but something that wasn't uninviting. The sharp taste and scent was both distracting and calming his nerves. Exactly what he had sought out.

"I can't say I have, Sir Enigma," Corvus politely told the older man, finding nothing he could remember about such a name, "Who was he?"

Sir Enigma glanced to him and gave a cheerful grin, something Corvus was unsure was supposed to be inviting. He found it rather unnerving, but refrained from speaking up.

"I thought as much. You won't find anyone around here who'd know the tale by heart. The Court King," Sir Enigma smacked his lips as he began, "is more of a myth in my personal opinion. But I've learned there is always merit to any story passed down rumor by rumor. The tough part would be discerning fact from fiction."

He took the kettle off his small stove, placing it back on the tray. He brought it over to the small table between them, along with setting down his cap to face Corvus as Sir Enigma reclaimed the tea cup he was drinking from earlier. Corvus would think the other man would refill it with the hotter brew, but didn't bring attention to it. He saw no reason to it.

After Sir Enigma took a sip from his cup, he sighed in satisfaction, looked to Corvus with his dark eyes and gleefully continued, "From what I could find, the Court King was a ruler who reigned over many lands with the help of his competent cohort, whom some say he carefully selected himself."

"Hence the name "Court King"?" Corvus questioned, though internally kicked himself for interrupting the nobleman. When Sir Enigma regarded him with an inquisitive gaze, Corvus stuttered out, "S-since he was the head of a- of a court? And royalty?"

Sir Enigma pondered over Corvus words, and hummed, "Well... that's certainly one way to look at it."

"Though I don't think the name matters as much as the being holding it," Sir Enigma admitted after another sip, "From what I've heard, he wasn't of any royalty. In fact, he was more a conqueror. Like your Aegon. Just more successful."

Corvus widened his eyes in shock at Sir Enigma's assertion. The nobleman just sipped on more of his tea as if he hadn't stated something so controversial about the family the Targaryen prince belonged to, adopted status notwithstanding.

He couldn't fathom how Sir Enigma could say Aegon the Conqueror's conquests were lesser than a person who may not even exist.

"What... makes you say that?" Corvus asked, swallowing down his nervousness. He wasn't wrong about this tea, he thought to himself, It seems to rejuvenate me with an energy to speak up.

Sir Enigma snickered at Corvus reaction, and added, "I mean no offense to your family's history, your majesty. But compared to the stories I've heard about your forefather and what I could learn about the Court King, the latter had accomplished a lot more. After all, what bigger conquest can one accomplish but the world's?"

Corvus blinked at Sir Enigma, processing the baffling information he was listening to. The World?! The very idea of someone even coming close to accomplishing such a feat was preposterous to the prince. He's already sat through meetings of father's council struggling to figure out how to approach diplomacy with the likes of Uncle Daemon, he didn't have confidence that they alone could take on the less amicable kingdoms.

Now, he was thoroughly intrigued about this Court King, "Did- did he succeed?"

"In the conquests?" Sir Enigma raised a brow, and Corvus nodded, "Well of course he did. He was fucking ruthless, and most importantly, extremely ambitious in his goal. He left no stone unturned. He wore a mask to hide his face, never disclosing his name so his enemies were unable to curse him beyond death. If what I had learned was true, some say he was akin to a God. Or perhaps gifted by them. It's said he ruled for a life time. Beyond what was even possible for a human; conjuring storms while he was at it. He tamed dragons and flew without their aid. He was fueled by divine magic and as strong as a hundred armies."

Corvus sat in shock, so much so that he broke from it when he lost his grip on his tea cup. It fell to the stone floor, shattering and spilling the red-tinted liquid everywhere. He gave an apologetic gaze to Sir Enigma, but the man didn't seem bothered as he was mid-way through pouring another steaming tea into a new cup.

Taking the new cup with both hands, he gave his thanks as he tried to find a way to form his thoughts coherently into words.

"Did he really do it?" he asked. Sir Enigma responded with a raised brow, so Corvus elaborated, "All of what you just said."

Sir Enigma gave a smile, and a chuckle as he stated, "Of course not. It's all bullshit. No person is capable of living forever, blessed with god-like powers, taming fucking dragons. Only Targaryens and Velaryons can achieve such a feat, which the Court King was neither. In all likelihood, if he ever did exist, he was replaced generation after generation, keeping up the illusion of a god that ruled over the lands for eternity. With a dragon rider of his own probably."

Oh, Corvus cringed, thinking himself a gullible fool.

Sir Enigma showed mercy on him though, not regarding him with ridicule, "Don't beat yourself up so much, your highness. Tales are meant to wind people up, make them believe in the impossible. The Court King's just another in a sea of a thousand more. Flattering stories to feed the egos of dead people. You'll get used to it."

Corvus accepted the nobleman's words without resistance, though he did have a burning question.

"How... do the flowers play into this though?" Corvus inquired.

Sir Enigma looked at the prince, puzzled. Until his eyes widened in realization, "Oh right, almost forgot."

He clears his throat as he continues, "You see, the more mythical parts of this tale state that the Court King's reign long reign had ended at one point. From what I learned, the Court King had been betrayed by his cohort during a particularly big war, leading to his demise. Staying true to his image of divinity, its stated that once his corpse fell, a hundred-thousand red flowers bloomed across the battlefield, rooting itself in anything it could."

"Some say these flowers contained the Court King's courage. Others had the belief that the petals held divine properties belonging to the Court King. There were a few who believed that the flora should be preserved and revered, as they held the Court King's spirit. The commonality between all three claims was that by consuming the flowers, you attain his power," Sir Enigma explained with a roll of his eyes, "Hence the name. The Court King's Favors. Of course, his cohorts hadn't liked such a idea, and some of the more paranoid ones went on to purge the flowers from existence. Where there had been hundreds of thousands, now remains only thirty. Or, well, twenty-eight."

Corvus wasn't sure if he was supposed to cringe at that, but Sir Enigma hadn't seemed to discourage him from drinking the tea full of the favors.

"Now you must understand the ridiculous of such claims. More than likely those flowers merely rejuvenated people with medicinal properties," Sir Enigma disclosed, and Corvus couldn't disagree there. The tea did put to rest his fears and anxieties, much to his relief. Even if the tale was all myth, he couldn't say he didn't see why people believed in it.

"Want to know what else I learned from this tale?" Sir Enigma spoke up, catching Corvus attention. Once the prince gave him a nod to continue, Sir Enigma continued, "Rumor has it, that the corpse of the Court King is held deep in the catacombs of a tomb, somewhere under here. King's Landing itself."

Corvus tensed at Sir Enigma's words, finishing off his tea as he leaned in to softly ask, "Is- is that true? Or just another myth?"

Sir Enigma, though seeming to have all the answers, merely shrugged here, "I never got a concrete answer, so who knows? But it'd be quite a discovery, wouldn't you agree?"

As Corvus wondered over the Court King's legend, pondering on such a unique character, even if he was myth, Sir Enigma broke him out of his thoughts as he offered the kettle.

"Would you like more?" the nobleman asked, "The Court King's legend may be a myth, but his favor does grant you courage in times of strife. If you believe enough, that is. Do you believe, Corvus?"

The prince looked to and from the tea cup in his hands and the kettle in Sir Enigma's. His mind thought back to the recent tragedy weeks ago of mother's death, and the straining gap between his sister and the sweet Lady Alicent. He didn't know how to fix that, and could barely comfort father in his time of need.

He could need a little courage, if not for himself, then to help his family. With his mind made up, he brought his cup forward to a grinning Malvolio, watching as the dark red tainted liquid filled his cup for a third time.

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 7!

Finally some proper progress for our disaster boys!!

Oh I loved writing this chapter SO MUCH!! And in fact I managed to basically write all 2.7k words today lol I really was in the zone today - this is what percico does to me xD

(@neo-kid-funk, there's something I hope you'll notice here, hehe 👀)

Enjoy~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~

It was late when Percy got to the beach, late enough that the sun was already down, the red and orange from the sunset already gone from the sky. Late enough that Percy knew it was stupid going there in the hope of meeting a certain pretty goth boy that had been haunting his dreams for the past months.

If he remembered correctly (and he did, he didn’t spend so much time thinking and looking at Nico to not know perfectly well this sort of thing), his shift should have been over almost two hours ago. There was no way he was still at the kiosk.

And yet.

And yet Percy couldn’t help himself - he had arrived home, he had thrown his luggage on the floor, and then he was out of the door again, following the all too familiar path that led him to the beach.

He could feel himself vibrating out of his own skin, knew he probably had the most foolish smile painted on his lips; he was perfectly aware he had probably been smiling like that nonstop for the past three days.

And he really didn’t care one bit. Because Nico had asked about him.

When Annabeth had called him, she had sounded so excited that Percy had known right away it was important - she wasn’t the type to get excited for nothing, but to be perfectly honest, Percy had expected something like her favorite architect was going to finally give a lecture in her university or something; he had not be prepared for what she was about to tell him to make his world shift around its axis (dramatic, yes, but, again, Percy didn’t care).

“Oh my god, Seaweed brain, you might actually have a chance!”, is what she told him, and Percy had been too confused to do more than make a questioning sound in response.

“He asked about you!”, she continued. Percy could almost see her smile through the phone.

His heart leapt in his chest, but he willed it to calm down. Jumping to conclusion just to be disappointed after wouldn’t feel good. It didn’t work, his heart was already too far ahead, running.

“What are you talking about, Annabeth?”

“Your dream boy, Percy! The goth boy from the kiosk! Your Nico!”

And it was really all Percy could do to not let himself fall on the ground and let out a scream like a schoolgirl at her first crush.

“What do mean he asked about me? Annabeth, please, you’re gonna give me a stroke here”.

She laughed at him, but then finally did explain. 

Percy hadn’t stopped smiling since that conversation. Part of him had wanted to get on a plane and go back right then and there just to see Nico. It was so stupid, but what did it matter when it felt so good? Percy felt like he deserved to be stupidly happy about this when he had spent the past few months pining and hoping and dreaming about a boy he sort of wanted to gift the moon to. 

And so, here he was now, feeling like he was walking on a cloud instead of sand. It didn’t matter that Nico most probably wasn’t there, it still felt ridiculously good, because Percy would see him tomorrow anyway, and he couldn’t wait.

Nico had been worried about him, had asked about him. He cared about Percy enough to ask someone he didn’t even know if he was alright.

There was really no possible way to keep the happy smile off Percy’s lips.

The seaside air filled his lungs, and it only made his smile grow bigger. He still threw a glance at the kiosk - it was still open, but as Percy had expected, Nico wasn’t there.

Still smiling, he stopped to take off his shoes and started walking aimlessly around the shore. It always felt good, just walking on the beach, feeling the sand all around him.

He kept walking for a while, his mind inevitably pulled towards the same direction.

And so, when he saw the very object of his daydreams right before his eyes, his first thought was that his imagination was getting a little out of hand. He stopped, looked, blinked, and looked again, thinking his pipe dream would have disappeared. 

But no, it was still there. Still a little further away from where Percy was, but Percy would recognize him everywhere.

Nico was sitting on the shore, just a few feet away from the ocean, knees up and arms around them as he looked toward the horizon.

Percy’s heart lost a beat, stopped completely, then started running and running like it wanted to reach Nico as soon as possible.

He looked so incredibly ethereal in the low light of the dusk, Percy felt his breath get stuck in his throat. 

His feet started moving before he could realize it, and he started walking closer.

Nico had his hair down, and oh, Percy had never seen him with his hair down, he always had it tied up in a ponytail when he was working; it hit him, all at once, that this was the first time he saw him not behind a counter, the first time he could talk to him as just two people (friends? perhaps?) instead of a customer and a retail worker.

It felt important. A huge turning point, somehow.

Nico looked up when Percy was just a few feet away from him, before he could find the voice to greet him.

Their eyes met, and woah, yes, that definitely felt like a turning point.

Nico was looking at him like he was the last person he expected to see, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. Percy forced himself not to stare, but it was difficult when really the one thing he wanted the most was to just stare and stare and bask in how pretty Nico was. 

“Ehi”, he said, finding his voice again before it started to get awkward. “Hi, Nico”.

A beat, when it seemed it was Nico’s turn to try and get his voice back.

“Percy- hi”.

Percy got closer, sat beside him - a proper, socially acceptable distance, even without a counter in between them. His heart was dancing like crazy in his chest.

“You’re back”, Nico said, then seemed to realize what he said and turned to look away, back at the ocean. “I mean- I didn’t expect to see you”.

He was so cute. Percy wanted to reach out and take his hand, to caress his cheek and feel if it was warm from the blush. Oh he wanted to kiss him so bad he was about to go crazy.

“Me neither”, Percy said. “I got back just a few hours ago, and then came here”. He licked his lips, debating on what to say. ”I missed the beach”.

I missed you, he wanted to say, but the words died on his lips. Now that would definitely be too much.

Nico looked back at him. Percy decided he could allow himself to be just a little daring.

“I’m happy I found you here though”, he said, and each one of his words was accompanied by a somersault done by his heart. He wondered if Nico could see what the smile on his lips meant.

Nico didn’t reply right away, but Percy could see the small smile that came up on his lips, and that helped just a little to calm down his frantic heart.

“Me too”, he said in the end, so low that his words threatened to be taken away by the sea breeze. Percy caught them though, and held them close.

This felt way too heavy to call it a simple crush.

Silence fell between them, and it wasn’t weird exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable either - it was the kind of silence where it’s clear both you and the other person are desperately trying to find something to say; something, possibly, that won’t make you want to bury yourself under the sand out of embarrassment after wording it out loud.

“What are you doing here, by the way?”, Percy ended up saying. “Hasn’t your shift ended like two hours ago?”

Nico looked at him, head tilted to the side in question. “You remember my shift hours?”

Oh, damn.

“Huh, well- I spend a lot of time here?”, Percy said, and it sounded way more like a question than a statement.

Nico laughed, shy and soft, and Percy thought that dying of embarrassment was worth it after all, if it got him that.

“So you know Jason’s shift hours too?”

“Who’s Jason?”

A moment of silence passed when Nico kept looking at Percy. Percy would have given everything to know what he was thinking.

He was ready to go and hide in the ocean when another soft laugh left Nico’s lips.

“Fine, I only remember yours”, Percy said in the end. Oh how he had missed flirting with Nico, how he had missed that pretty smile. 

He looked so good with his hair down, flowing lightly in the soft breeze, Percy wanted to bury his hand in it, wanted to find out what it felt like.

There was just something about Nico, something that made it impossible for Percy to look away, like he was caught in his gravitational field and he couldn’t escape even if he wanted, and he just kept being dragged closer and closer. He was caught in Nico’s orbit, a satellite to his planet.

Nico looked almost regal in the low light, sitting with his back straight as he went back to look at the ocean, a small smile still on his lips. Percy wouldn’t be too surprised to find out he had been a prince in another life.

“I like to just sit here on the beach for a while after I finish at work”, Nico said, cutting Percy’s wandering mind off. “It’s peaceful”.

“I thought you didn’t like the ocean”.

“I never said I don’t like it”, Nico replied, rolling his eyes at him. “I said I don’t like getting into the water. But I like looking at it”.

Percy hummed, thinking about it. “It’s so big - the ocean, I mean”, he said. “Sometimes, I feel like I wanna get lost in it”.

It was probably a weird thing to say; Percy wasn’t sure where the confession was coming from. Somehow, it came natural with Nico.

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Sometimes”, Percy replied. “But it’s a good kind of scared, I don’t know how to explain it”.

Once again, silence fell between them. This time though, it was different, a little lighter, a little more comfortable.

Percy let himself get lost in the feeling of being on the beach, of the sea air and salty scent filling his nose and lungs, mixed with the feeling of being so close to Nico, of the warmth he could almost feel coming from him, of his own heart pounding in his chest.

Before he could think about it too much, he got up, stretched a hand out to Nico.

“Come on”, he said.

Nico was looking at him confused, clear questions in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking that Percy was crazy. And, truth be told, Percy did feel just a little crazy at that moment.

“What?”

“Let’s go in the water”, Percy said. “Not much, just our legs- come on”.

Nico blinked up at him. Percy’s hand was still outstretched towards him.

“Our clothes will get wet”.

“Doesn’t matter, they’ll dry off”.

“It’s a stupid idea”.

“Yeah, but it’ll be nice, I promise”.

A beat, then Nico took his hand. They fit well together, Nico’s hand in Percy’s bigger one. Percy felt the urge to interlace their fingers. He managed to hold himself back, but even once Nico was up, he still didn’t let go.

Nico didn’t either, though, and the realization made Percy’s heart go even crazier than it already had.

He started walking backward, using their joined hands to pull Nico with him, closer and closer towards the water.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you”, he said. He was probably back to smiling like a fool, but what did it matter when Nico was looking at him like that, smiling softly back with a clear blush tinting his cheeks pink? Percy wouldn’t have been able to stop smiling even if he had wanted to.

“Idiot”, Nico murmured, and it sounded so fond, Percy felt his heart melt, merging with the water beneath their feet.

Nico hissed when the water touched his feet and Percy couldn’t help but laugh at him. The way he looked back at him with a frown on his face made him laugh a little more and think that he really, really wanted to kiss it away.

Still, Nico kept going willingly as Percy kept pulling him along, step after step, until the water reached almost up to their knees.

They still hadn’t let go of each other’s hand. Percy didn’t want to be the first one to let go; he hoped Nico was thinking the same thing.

“See, it feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Nico seemed to think about it a little. “It’s cold”.

“That’s not an answer, Nico”.

Again, Nico rolled his eyes at him. “I guess… it’s not that bad”.

“I’ll take that as a win”, Percy said, and laughed.

It really did feel so good, but it probably had more to do with the hand still held inside his than with the ocean itself. Percy could barely bring himself to focus on the water, all of his senses couldn’t feel anything but Nico, his skin against his, the soft look in his eyes and the pretty smile still in place on his lips.

“I will get to teach you how to surf, at some point”.

When Nico laughed, Percy could swear he could feel the sound in his soul. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself now”.

They stayed in the water for another few minutes, then went back to the shore. It was like a silent agreement when they let go of each other's hands, went to get their shoes, and started walking along the shore side by side.

Percy missed the contact already.

They were walking close, close enough that Percy could have easily reached out and took Nico’s hand again. 

“So”, he said, breaking the silence. “Annabeth told me you asked about me”.

Percy loved it when Nico blushed, he liked that it happened so easily. 

“Huh, Annabeth is your friend?”, Nico asked, and Percy nodded. “Yeah, huh. You usually come here pretty often, so when you didn’t come for a whole week, I… got worried, I guess”.

Percy could feel his heart swelling into his chest. 

“That’s nice of you”.

Nico just shrugged, like it was no big deal, like the thought of it hadn’t left Percy laying awake at night for three days straight.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be a little braver tonight.

“Mh, maybe-”, he started, then cleared his throat. “Maybe we could exchange numbers? You know, so you wouldn’t get worried again, you could just ask me. And I could do the same, if you didn’t come to work for some reason”.

Percy could feel each one of his heart’s beats in his ears, so loud he couldn’t hear the sound of the waves anymore.

Until Nico nodded. “Yeah, uhm, that’s a good idea- I’d like that”, he murmured, and took his phone out to hand it to Percy. Percy accepted it and gave him his own, like in a dream.

It felt like a hallucination, putting his number into Nico’s phone.

Now, his mind was all white noises and silent screaming, as they went back to walk, side by side. Percy held onto his phone like a newfound treasure.

When they reached the end of the beach, Percy wanted nothing more than to turn around and just do it all over again. Maybe he could will the time to slow down if he tried hard enough.

“This was nice”, he just said instead.

Nico nodded. “Yeah”, he said, with the prettiest smile on his lips. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow”, Percy said back, even though he was sure he would also see him tonight in his dreams.

He waved Nico goodbye, and stayed there looking at him as he walked away.

Oh, this definitely felt way bigger than a crush.