#i need him to blur the lines between past present and future.

[missingn000]

hey guys check out how hard i can make you like sukuna [gives him a complete character arc, full range of emotions, fleshed-out backstory, and complex dynamics with other characters that both harmonize and clash with the narrative themes of the story]

[seeingivy]

mine 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which you decide to fake date your coworker, to get your parents off your back for a few months. can you continue on when the two of you start blurring lines between fake and real?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

- 

“You’re going to fake date your boss?” 

You smack Itadori across the back of his head, signaling him to talk quieter. 

“You’re going to fake date your boss?” he asks, whispering this time. 

“He’s not my boss, he’s just a coworker.” 

“You’re going to fake date your coworker?” 

You nod, reaching over to finish the leftover pancakes on Itadori’s plate. The three of them narrow their eyes at you, matching disapproving looks on all of their faces. You swear they practice it together when you’re not there. 

“You’re in over your head. This isn’t going to fix your problem.” says Nobara, picking the strawberries off Megumi’s plate, much to his dismay. 

“But, it is. My parents will lay off my back for a little bit, actually let me finish this clerkship without criticizing me every ten minutes. He gives them something to brag about in their circles, actually taking their focus off of pestering me.” 

“You know they’ll just take to criticizing him instead of actually laying off of you. Be practical, Y/N” says Megumi.

“Plus, how do you know he’ll even do it?” 

“Excellent question, Itadori. He needs a fake girlfriend just as much as I need a fake boyfriend. His parents won’t let him take over the firm if he doesn’t find a good match to perfect their company image. He said an aspiring lawyer matched the image, so it all works out.” you respond, finishing off the last of Itadori’s food. 

“You already asked him? And he agreed?” 

You nod in response, pulling out the contract you and Satoru had drafted earlier. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No romantic or sexual interactions with other people during the duration of the contract? No showing your face to the public unless both parties are present. Attendance at all firm related balls, galas, conferences. No telling other people. ” 

“Contingency plans, Kugisaki. It helps make sure we both stick to our deal.” 

“You just broke a rule.” deadpans Megumi. 

“You guys don't count.” 

Megumi and Nobara roll their eyes at you, with Itadori wishing you sincere luck in your endeavors. 

-  

You look around the room, craning to find where Satoru had run off to. He had left you at the bar, promising that he would return after he went to the bathroom.  You already know he’s having diarrhea from that cheesecake he ate earlier. 

You and Satoru had been fake dating for a month and a half now. Just as you predicted, your parents had gotten off your back, taking to their social circles to brag about how you were dating the son and future successor of one of the most esteemed law firms in all of Tokyo. As for Satoru’s parents, they had eased up on their criticism of him, Satoru swearing they’ll give him a real promotion any day now. You were a positive influence, they were beginning to trust him more. Your role at the firm was expanding as well, being assigned bigger projects and cases to work with as time went on. 

As for the two of you, you guys were getting closer. After spending virtually every day together - driving to work together, eating lunch at the block nearby, going on dates at night - the two of you had grown close. Too close for your liking. 

He was funny, unlike any other guy you had met in the past. While he seemed pretentious and immature when you first met him, you were pleasantly surprised to find out he was anything but. He was caring, compassionate, loving. You were convinced he was an angel in disguise, because no normal person could live and laugh that much. 

The truth is he was growing on you. More than growing on you, you felt the presence of him being cemented into your routines, unable to go on without him. You couldn’t go to Mochicat without buying some kikufuku for him, you couldn’t go to the store without him there to reach the high shelves for you, you couldn’t go to sleep at night if he didn’t send his “goodnight beautiful fake gf :D. have a sex dream about me” text. 

You feel a cold hand on the shoulder, your heart pounding at Satoru’s return. 

“‘Toru, you’re back. I was wond-” 

You turn to face him and realize you aren’t talking to Satoru but to Surugu, your beloved ex-boyfriend. He’s all dressed up, his hair grown out and secured into a bun at the top of his head. You put a step between the two of you, his hand falling from his place on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Come on, babe. Is that anyway to treat your old friends?” 

“We aren’t friends, Suguru.” 

“Don’t make a scene. Let’s share a drink. Old times sake.” 

You glare at him, not backing down from where you were standing. You can feel an uneasy pit forming in your stomach, the sight of him bringing on a wave of nausea. Where’s Satoru when you need him? 

You and Suguru dated for three years, almost four years ago now. The two of you had started off as friends, both attending university in the states, with Suguru in medical school while you were at law school. 

The two of you had become close very fast, becoming closer than most friends were. You later found out there was a term for what he was doing, very cleverly named “lovebombing.” You spent almost everyday together and when you weren’t together, you were texting, calling, facetiming each other. He swore he couldn’t go a second without you. 

Eventually, the two of you started dating, your friendship leading into a relationship between the two of you. You had opened up to him, telling him things you hadn’t told other people before. You swore you were in love with him, feeling like he was the only person you could be yourself with. You gave yourself to him, letting him into every little part of you. 

Things changed when he moved to California to do his residency. The two of you did long distance for four months, until you realized he was no longer interested in you. After confronting him, he mentioned that his new girlfriend, Sophia, made him happy, in a way that you didn’t. You had no idea he had a new girlfriend. You didn’t even know that you had broken up. 

He said he was unsure of how to break up with you, he thought you understood the situation when he left. Despite this, the two of you continued to talk for a year after that, Suguru saying that you would always be his best friend, someone who could never be replaced in his life. He would come back to New York on holidays, the two of you spending the week together. 

You could have sworn he still loved you, deep down. Every time he came to see you, he’d hold you in his arms, kiss you like nothing had changed, made love to you like you were the only one. However, he’d return to Sophia at the end of the week, eventually saying your relationship with him made her uncomfortable, cutting any ties you had left. The two of you never spoke again. 

Until now. 

“I can’t. I have a boyfriend.” 

“So I’ve heard. Sleeping your way to the top suits you well.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I heard you got the Initech Case the other week. Quite a big case to give a junior associate. Do you really think they would have given that to you if you weren’t sucking junior Gojo’s dick? Though I suppose it’s no shock. You always did have trouble getting things on your own.” 

You feel your blood rushing through your ears, clenching the wine glass in your hand so hard it shatters. The sound of the glass has everyone turning their heads, to find you fighting back your tears with a bloody hand. 

You spot Satoru at the door with a concerned look plastered on his face. You can see him maneuvering through the people, trying his fastest to reach you. Before he can, you run to the closest door, moving up the stairs to exit to the balcony. 

- 

You pull up the side of your dress, placing your aching feet into the cold water of the pool. Your hand had stopped bleeding a little while ago, the red still smeared down the length of your arm. You use your uninjured hand to make ripples in the pool, the water moving through your fingertips. 

“Oh, thank god. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

You turn to find Satoru, unlacing his dress shoes and taking off his socks next to you. He sits at your side, placing his feet in the water. You feel him looking at you in your peripheral vision, but you refuse to meet his eye. 

“Sorry. Needed a second.” you respond. 

You feel his hand on the side of your cheek, lightly lifting your face up to look at him. You look up at his blue eyes, filled with concern, and can feel the tears you willed down rising up again. You see his expression tighten at the sight of your tears, it finally pushing you over the edge and bringing your tears on in full flesh. 

You feel his arms wrap around you, your face tucked into his neck as he rubs small circles into your back. You can feel him whispering into your ear, shushing you as you sob against him. After a few minutes, your tears subside, your breath still shaking against him. 

“What happened, bug? You’re breaking my heart here.” 

“Did you give me the Initech Case just because I’m dating you?” 

You see his eyes widening, a frown setting on his face. 

“What? Of course not. You got the Initech Case because you’re best suited for the case. I didn’t even have a say in that decision” 

You rub the back of your head against your nose, rubbing the excess tears off the side of your face. 

“Do you think Yaga gave it to me because I’m dating you?” 

“Bug, what is the Initech Case about? 

“Abuse of power dynamics. Hana’s suing her boss, Daiki, for taking advantage of his position to make advances on her.” you respond. 

“Right. Hana requested female counsel, specifically. She wanted to make sure she had someone who wouldn’t talk over her. But, Shoko’s still on leave till next month. You’re the only other girl at the firm.” 

You’re quiet, turning back to face the water. You guess you were the only one who could do that case. But you can still hear Suguru in the back of your head, every horrible thing he said and did to you flooding your mind. 

You feel his arm snake around you, his temple resting around yours. He stares down at the water with you, your reflections staring back at the both of you. 

“Work with me here, bug. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

You swallow hard, his blue eyes glimmering in the reflection of the water. His arm is warm, the polar opposite of Suguru’s frozen hands. You decide to jump. 

“I’m tired of things not being mine.” you whisper, heart pounding. 

You feel his hand reach the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ear.  

“When I got into college, my parents took the credit, saying I wouldn’t have gotten there if they hadn’t tutored me and used their connections to get me there in the first place. When I got into law school, the boss I used to intern for asked me for a ‘well deserved kiss’, saying I wouldn’t have gotten in if he didn’t write me the letter he sent them. When Suguru left me, he said he was better suited to Sophia, because she owned him the second he met her. And now, I land a big case, work at an impressive law firm, but I only got here because I’m dating you. I just want something to be mine.” you say, your head in your hands. 

He’s quiet, his hand still brushing across the side of your hair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, Satoru pondering over your words. 

“In grade school, my first friend, Saiki, told me that he had only let me play with him because my parents had asked him to before we walked into class. In high school, I created a non-profit with my friend, meant to help incarcerated people find resources that would help them land jobs after being freed. When the non-profit took off, he took all the credit, stating that all I did was finance the project, when it was actually my idea. When I decided to work at the firm and become a lawyer, people turned down any interest I showed at other companies - they knew I was going to end up at my dad’s firm anyways. Nothing I ever do is mine either.” 

You turn to him, looking into his eyes. 

“But it doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” 

“They’re going to say that about me regardless, bug. But does that really change what’s happening? Saiki will still be my friend, and play tag with me on the field. I still came up with that idea and my non-profit still helps people, even if my name isn’t on it. And I’ll still be a kick-ass lawyer, even if it’s at my parent’s firm.” 

You soak in his words, letting the thoughts cross through your mind. 

“I would still like to have some things to myself, Satoru. Things that are just mine.” 

“And you do. Those godforsaken friends of yours, especially that grump little weirdo, that ugly ass cat, that disgusting green hoodie you own-

“Hey.” 

“And me, of course. Those things are just yours.” 

You smile at him for including himself in the list. You interlock your fingers with his, forgetting about the blood smeared all over your hand. He looks down, opening up your hand to tracing his fingers along the cut. He lifts your hand up, pressing his lips against the cut. You feel your skin burn at the contact, his soft lips brushing against your hand. 

“Did you just try to kiss it better, Satoru?” you ask, feeling breathless all of a sudden. 

“Did it work?” 

“No.” 

You look up at him, a smile plastered on his face. You swear your hand is shaking in his hold. He rolls his eyes, bringing his arms closer to yours, holding your face in his hands. The tips of his fingers brush through the sides of your hair, as he leans forward, his lips pressing a kiss on yours. 

Every other kiss you had shared had been in the presence of other people, attempting to make your faux relationship look more realistic. But this was something else. The kiss was soft, slow, nothing like the rushed pecks the two of you had shared before. His lips are soft, warm. You swear you can taste the dessert he was eating earlier, his lips sweet. You can feel his hands lowering to rest around your neck, a smile forming on his mouth. He breaks apart, your face still in his hands. 

“Did it work now?” 

“Maybe.” 

He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

- 

“You were flirting with her! In front of me, Satoru. And then you left me there at the table, sitting alone.” 

“No, I wasn’t. She was just going to introduce me to her dad,” 

“Why do you suppose that means? What else was she supposed to think when you told her you liked that dress and that you would love to be a part of the family?” 

“It was a compliment! And you know what I meant, we’re trying to secure a deal with them.” 

“So you admit it? You were trying to lay the moves on her as a business tactic.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N. So what if I was? It helps the company if they share their cases with us.” 

“And what about me?” 

“What about you? You know your parents would love it if you got some big case with Soyin Paradigm.” 

You pause, realizing you and Satoru aren’t arguing about the same thing. You knew the lines had been blurring recently, ever since the night you had spent at the pool and every date afterwards, but you never realized how far apart the two of you were standing. He was still focused on the promotion, the cases he could get. He didn’t care about you. You turn your back to him, running out the door and down the stairs to the street. 

You hear him behind you, calling out your name to come back. You make it halfway across the street before he catches up, him blocking you from walking any further. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

You pinch yourself for what you’re about to say next, bracing yourself for the goodbye. 

“I think we’ve both fulfilled the terms of our contract. Your parents trust you and gave you a bigger role at the company like you said they would. My parents have enough to brag about for a few years. I think we should call it quits.” 

You stare up at him, his eyes boring into yours. 

“No.” 

“What?” 

“Why are you running away from me? What did I say?” he says, his grip on hands intensing. 

“Nothing. This day was bound to come anyways, Satoru. We couldn’t go on like this forever.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s fake, Satoru. I mean hell, you’re still flirting with other girls for goodness sake. You don’t even like me.” 

You see anger flash in his eyes, his hands moving up to your shoulders. 

“I don’t like you?” 

“Yes, Satoru. You don’t.” 

“Do you remember that night, when we sat by the water? I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since then. Every time I look at you it’s like the first time. Your stupid jokes, your ugly ass cat, the smile you only save for me, you’re literally everywhere. I tried to get the thought of you out of my mind, but I can’t. I can’t find a thing not to love about you.” 

You feel your mouth dry at his words. He can’t find a thing not to love about you. He loves you. 

“Come on, now. You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, bug.” 

You feel your heart glowing at his words. You grab him by the collar, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your lips once again, his arms snaking around your waist. The two of you kiss - soft, sweet, slow - your hearts beating together. He tastes sweet, the taste of the strawberry mochi he had after dinner still lingering on his lips. You break apart, your cheeks tinted pink. 

He smiles at you, running his finger across your lips. You lock your hand with his, the two of you making your way back to the apartment you had just ran out of. 

“You wanna know something embarrassing?”

“Hm?” 

“You have a crush on me, bug.” he says, smirking down at you.

“Okay?”

“That’s embarrassing. You have the hots for me” 

You roll your eyes, shutting the door of your apartment behind the two of you. 

- 

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, recovery, confessions, oral f!receiving, scars, being self-conscious, tummy bulge, cumming inside, hickey necklace, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Here is the unofficial ending for this story. Change the POV from 1st to 2nd person after the MDNI warning. Enjoy the little treat lovelies! 💙

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here!

Part 9: EXTRA: Months Later…

The months that followed were a blur of healing and adjustment, both inside and out. Physically, my body grew stronger, the wounds fading into scars that would serve as a reminder of battles won. But the emotional scars, the ones that cut deeper, took more time. I had been broken, shattered into pieces, but with each passing day, I found a little more of myself returning. And with Simon by my side, those fragments began to fit together again, forming something stronger than before.

We had learned to navigate the quiet after the storm. The nightmares still came, but they weren’t as suffocating anymore. Sometimes, I’d wake up gasping for breath, the memories of my captivity like a dark cloud overhead. And each time, Simon was there, his hand steady on my shoulder, his presence a reminder that I wasn’t alone anymore. He’d whisper, “I’m here,” and somehow, those simple words were enough to anchor me back to the present.

In the daylight, life began to take on a new rhythm. Task Force 141 continued its missions, though I had been given time to recover fully, both physically and mentally. Simon and I found our own routines within the team—no longer just comrades in arms but partners in something far more personal. Our connection had deepened in ways I hadn’t expected. The unspoken bond we once shared had blossomed into something tangible, something real.

There were still ghosts between us—his past and mine, the memories that neither of us could ever truly leave behind. But we had learned to face them together. Simon wasn’t one for grand gestures or flowery words, but in the quiet moments, in the way he’d brush my hair from my face or hold my hand when he thought no one was looking, I could feel the depth of his feelings, just as I knew he could feel mine.

One evening, several months after my rescue, we found ourselves alone, away from the chaos of the team, away from the weight of the missions. We sat on the roof of a safe house, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The world felt still, as if time had slowed just for us. The air was cool, a gentle breeze ruffling our clothes, and for once, the silence between us was filled with peace rather than ghosts.

Simon sat beside me on the bed, his mask absent—he didn’t need it around me anymore. His face, once so hardened by years of pain and loss, had softened. The lines around his eyes, the weariness that usually weighed on him, seemed lighter. 

“You ever think about what comes next?” I asked quietly, my voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment.

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the silly Hang in there! cat poster on the wall across from him. Then, without turning to look at me, he said, “I think about it more than I should.”

There was something in his voice—a vulnerability I had come to recognize but still surprised me each time. I reached out, my hand finding his. He squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, a gesture so small and yet so full of meaning.

“I used to think I didn’t have a future,” he continued, his voice low and rough. “After everything… I didn’t think there was anything left for me but the fight. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze finally shifting to meet mine. “Now I think maybe there’s something more.”

My heart swelled at his words, the quiet confession hanging in the air between us. I had felt the same way once—lost, adrift, convinced that the only thing left for me was the next mission, the next fight. But now, sitting here with him, I realized that I wanted more, too. More than just survival. More than just the endless cycle of war and battle.

“I want that too,” I said softly, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I want… more.”

Simon’s expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against mine, the warmth of his breath brushing against my skin. In that moment, it felt like the world had finally settled, like all the chaos and pain we had endured had led us here, to this quiet, perfect moment.

You  couldn't believe what you had just heard. After everything you two had been through, after all the darkness you had seen, you both were finally ready to move on. To find something more. To find each other.

As you sat there in the quiet of the night, the tension between the two of you thickened. Eyes locked on each other, communicating a silent promise of what was to come. Slowly, Simon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently. You sighed softly, melting into his touch.

Without breaking the kiss, he guided you to lie on the bed, his hands roaming over your body with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his rough hands against your skin, the calluses from years of fighting serving as a testament to his strength. But it was his tenderness that made your heart race – the way he traced the lines of your scars with his fingertips, the gentle kisses he placed along your jawline.

You stared at Simon as he undressed you, his hands skimming over your body, tracing the lines of your scars, old and fresh alike. You couldn't help but shiver with anticipation at his touch, feeling both vulnerable and desired. As he moved to unbuckle his belt, you knew this was it - the moment you’d had been waiting for.

As our clothes were taken off by one another’s gentle touches, you felt a sense of freedom you hadn't experienced in years. Simon's touch ignited a fire within you, a passion that burned bright and hot.

Simon pulled you close and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed freely over your body. He pushed you against the bed, his hardness grinding against me. You whimpered softly, arching your back in need.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against my neck.

"I want you to take control," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

His hand moved to your throat, gently squeezing. "And what if I don't let you go?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Then I belong to you," you breathed, your heart pounding.

Simon pulled away slightly, his eyes boring into yours. "You already do," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, without warning, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

Simon pulled back from the kiss, his eyes burning with desire as he looked down at you. You were breathless, your eyes glazed over with lust. He ran his hand down your arm, tracing the lines of your scars. "You like that, luv?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes," you moaned. "Show me more."

He smirked and started to kiss his way down your neck, stopping to suck on your nipples through your shirt. You gasped and arched your back, your body begging for more. He pushed your shirt up and off my shoulders, revealing the faded marks of your captivity.

You paused–unsure of how he’d react to seeing the full length of what the enemy had done to you not even a year ago. Would he still want you after seeing what months of torture did to your body?

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. Without a second of hesitation, he traced the lines of the scars with his tongue, his hands exploring my body. You whimpered softly, your hips bucking against him. He chuckled darkly and pulled my underwear down, his eyes raking over my sensitive flesh.

"And I’m going to show you just how beautiful you are, luv" he followed.

Without a second to spare, Simon had his face in between your thighs, arms hooked behind them–keeping them open. He looked up at you, wanting the green light for the ways he’s about to ruin you. You nod your head–the words you once had in your mouth are long gone and replaced with moans as he ate you like a man starved. His tongue moved in ways that made your head spin.

A moan slipped from his mouth as you grind your hips against him - reverberating through your body as the vibration from his voice only gave you that much more pleasure. He came up for a moment, “Mercy,” he said as he licked your juices from his lips. A questioning hum escapes you-what does he mean? “If it’s too much, you say mercy.” You tilt your head up, meeting a face lined with seriousness. “Mhm,” you mumble, not wanting to speak as you chase that feeling of his mouth on your puffy folds. His grip on your hips tighten- “I’m not finishing unless you give me an answer, luv.”

Writhing in the feeling of the lost stimulation you had mere seconds ago, you grow frustrated. “Yes, I understand,” you say as you push his head back. A breathy laugh escapes him, “Good girl.” His tongue languidly teased your clit as he moved his hand to finger your pussy. The calloused fingers you so lovingly held during your recovery felt so different when they were inside of you. Flexing in just the right spots to make you soak his hand with your cum and leave the rest dripping down his chin.

You don’t know where he learned to do such things with his tongue and his fingers, but you knew damn well that this wasn’t something he learned out on the battlefield.

He pushed your legs apart and entered you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. The feeling alone of him stretching you out after the welcomed assault of his mouth was almost too much. Fire coursed through your veins as he bottomed out in you, the outline of his cock visible on your stomach. His hand reached down to the outline as he traced it, a smug smirk growing on his face. “C’mere luv, give me your hand,” you raise your hand, it’s heavier than you remember, but then again you don’t remember the last time you had been fucked like this, hell you couldn’t do what he did with your own hands if you tried.

“Feel that? That’s me ruining every other man you’ve ever thought of fucking,” his tone dark and possessive as he runs your hand with his along the bulge of his cock inside of you.

You squirm, the lack of movement becoming too much for you as you rock your hips back and forth on his cock. “Greedy now aren’t you?” He’s enjoying this more than both of you anticipated, but that never stopped anyone. Slowly, he starts thrusting in and out of you, almost pulling out entirely before slamming back into you. You’re at a loss for words, you can’t think straight with him filling you up like this. “Cock drunk already luv?” You mumble a few words, but none of them coherent.

Simon's hips moved in such a way that was all new to you. He found spots inside you that you didn't know existed and he hit them perfectly. How has he let himself go this long without getting to know how perfectly shaped your pussy was– as if it was made just for him. How it stretched and tightened around him. How could he have been so blind that the perfect taste of paradise was only a few feet away all this time? 

Your pussy pulled him in, as if you could never let him go, never let this feeling escape you. And that was true. Your legs hooked together behind his back, barely touching each other as you tried to pull him even deeper. More. You wanted more. You needed it. His cock made you forget all of the stresses of being in the field you two shared. His form towered over you as he pumped himself in and out of your pussy. Steady, deep thrusts by no one other than the man who had saved you time and time again. Only now he was saving you from going through life without being properly fucked. 

He took one of his hands and grabbed your neck, gentle but firm. Enough to feel the pulse that lay beneath your skin but make your head spin even more. His free hand came down to your clit as he rubbed circles Into your still puffy clip, taking a moment to swipe some of your cum off of his cock beforehand. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, walls of your pushy clenched down on him, almost making it hard for him to move-almost… 

“F-Fuck Si,” you could feel that coil in your belly getting closer and closer to snapping for the umpteenth time this night. “You like that luv?” He growled. All you could do was nod your head with how drunk on pleasure you were. He leaned down over you, leaving a necklace of dark hickeys and small bites across your neck. 

Seconds later you could feel him pull away, his hands on your hips guiding you to flip over. God, the way his hands perfectly held you, the way he handled you– so firm, but so loving. Your legs shook as they tried to support your weight, almost losing their strength from the countless orgasms he pulled from you. Without a second to spare, Simon pulls you back onto his cock, a gasp escaping your lips as this new angle sparked a new kind of pleasure. His pace picked back up again, sharp, meaningful thrusts from him as the sounds of your hips rammed into each other echoed through the room. 

He reached a hand to your head, grabbing a fistful of hair, and pulled you up to his face. He continued making new additions to your freshly adorned necklace, claiming you as his own in whatever way possible. And as if he couldn't get enough, his other hand continued to rub your clit in pleasuring circles. Your legs shook with the overstimulation that brimmed on the edge of your mind. The feeling of his mouth on your neck, his fingers dancing across your clit, and his cock going in and out of you-- all of it pushed you to the point of being fucked stupid by him. 

Simon pushed you back down, your face in the mattress. Your arms were no use at this point when it came to holding yourself up. All you could think about was reaching that next orgasm, the one only he could give you. You tried to say something, anything to let him know just how thankful you were, but only the broken word of his name fell from your lips. “That's it luv, you just let me take over and you don't worry about a thing.” 

And you did. Simon's hips rutted into yours countless times, never losing that steadfast rhythm, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. You began to feel his hips falter, snapping sporadically as he thrusted into you. His grip on your hips tightened and his head fell back as he rode out his own orgasm. A guttural moan fell from his lips as he came. You could feel the hot cum from his cock fill you up even more and drip down the sides of your thighs as he fucked it back into you. 

He pulled out of you slowly, admiring his work of ruining you in the most loving way imaginable. With both of you spent, sweat beading on your brows, you lay in each other's arms as you came down from your orgasms. You cuddle up next to Simon, matching your breath to his as you drifted off to sleep with the man you loved.

You woke up the next morning, your body still sore from your passionate night together. You watched as Simon slept soundly, his face softened and relaxed in a way you had never seen before. You felt a pang of sadness for the burdens he must carry, the darkness that lurked beneath his silent exterior.

As you watched him sleep, you realized that there was more to Simon than his dominant, silent exterior. He had shown you glimpses of his soft side throughout your relationship – the way he would tenderly kiss your scars, the gentle way he held you afterward.

You knew you  wanted to explore more of these hidden parts of him, to understand what made him tick. But for now, you just nestled closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and the comfort of his silence.

Simon stirred slightly in his sleep, his arm wrapping around you. You nestled closer, feeling safe and loved in his embrace. As you drifted back to sleep, you made a silent promise to yourself– to unmask more of that soft side of Simon "Ghost" Riley, one layer at a time.

That's a wrap on Under the Shadow of Ghost! I hope you all enjoyed this journey, I know I certainly did! Stay tuned for more parts coming up for Operation 141: The Family Business.

Later on, I will post an updated story posting schedule with some new things to read!

Again, thank you all for the support on this story and the ones to follow, it means the world to me!

Have a wonderful day lovelies!!💙

[desidarling123]

Summary: Toph and Sokka become unexpected partners for a top-secret undercover mission. Their cover is that of a newlywed couple -- but as the mission drags on, the line between fact and fantasy start to blur for these longtime friends...

A/N: The premise just tickled me, so I wrote a small scene from the larger story I imagine. Could I write the full thing out? Yes, probably. Will I actually, given how busy I am recently? Not sure.

READ NOW ON AO3 or below the cut :)

They've been at this shitty little hole-in-the-wall bar for what feels like hours, now, hashing out all the details they need for their joint cover story: where this couple met, how they got together. Their dreams, their ambitions, and their plans: past, present, and future.

They keep the details similar enough to their own to remember, but with just enough changed that they won’t reveal their true identities on accident.

And it's just as they're close to winding up that Sokka finally works up the nerve to spring it on her.

“We should kiss,” he says, trying for casual and unaffected, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Toph smiles and finishes off the last of her drink, like he's just told her a joke. 

“Heh. Good one, Sokka.”

“No, I'm being serious,” he insists, and although he knows she can't see him, he fixes her with a serious stare, anyways, as if he can somehow convey the gravity of the matter to her that way. 

She must sense the genuine shift in his tone, because she looks flustered, then. Well, as flustered as he’s ever seen her, and she’s hard to rattle to begin with.

“Why ?” she says, voice pitched low.

“Well,” he explains, “I don't want to look surprised the first time it happens in public.”

“Who’s to say it ever will?” she counters, and there’s an unusual hardness in her voice, one he’s never heard from her before.

“Really, Toph?” he says. “You know far better than I do how unpredictable these things get.”

She sits back in her seat from across him, slumping ever-so-slightly as she mulls it over. In the low, warm light, which glints against her metal armor, he’s struck by how authoritative she looks, despite it.

“Fine,” she says at last. “But it should be you kissing me, not the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused.

“Why ?”

“Because,” she says tightly, “my assumed cover is a blind woman who doesn’t have seismic sense. If I initiate a kiss, it could tip someone off. I don’t have the benefit of a low profile, these days.”

“Besides,” she finishes, “I don’t want to have to pretend to feel for your face before I kiss you. That would look objectively ridiculous.”

Sokka finds he can’t argue with that. Though he’d kind of been hoping she’d be the one to take the lead, here.

But it’s fine. It’s not weird. It won’t be weird.

“Go ahead,” Toph says, and despite the brusque tone, he knows this is the best he could expect.

So he goes for it. Sokka stands up and leans over the table. Lets one feather-light hand push the dark hair out of her face before he puts his hand on her cheek and guides her mouth to his.

It’s somehow both unnatural and yet also the most natural thing in the world, to kiss his best friend of over a decade. 

She doesn’t kiss him back, per se, but that’s not really a surprise. He pushes past that and kisses her the way her ‘husband’ would: gently but firmly, a hint of familiarity beneath it all. Takes note of the little things, in the moment: the way her lips are slightly chapped against his, the fact that she tastes faintly of the lychee beer she’d just finished off.

He pulls away a beat later.

The moment is over just as it started -- abruptly. He sits back down in his chair.

She nods once, leans back again. He notices, absently, that her arms are still crossed on the table. 

“Okay, got it,” is all she says. He’s passed this little test of hers.

Sokka exhales, then. Takes a swig of his own bottle, briefly abandoned on the table’s far corner.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “do you think you can pretend to like that?”

Her tongue darts out, tracing out her lower lip briefly, and if he watches her a beat too long, well, she’s none the wiser.

“Yeah,” she says simply. “I think I can.”

[manybcdthings]

apartment viewing

felix ranstrom and isabella belcourt @rviner

Felix spotted Bella's head of curls as she chatted to the agent on the sidewalk across the road, biding his time for the perfect moment to cross. He'd be lying if he claimed he didn't visit his mother before the viewing appointment on purpose. He knew he'd need a dose of positivity after a session of entrapment with Agneta. But that was the kicker, he always underestimated how his mother could warp time. It was as if the Ranstrom house itself was a portal where past and present coexisted. Regardless of a time portal, an emotionally manipulative mother or a Ranstromen curse- entrapment meant Felix was late.

Once he joined Bella, he exchanged quick, polite words with the agent before letting them take the lead. His arm slid around Bella and he pressed a quick, apologetic kiss to her temple. "Sorry, that was..." He didn’t need to elaborate and instead gave her a knowing glance. "Well, you know. I’ll tell you later." Felix added, waving his free hand as they followed the realtor. "But she did raise a few good points." not that he'd say as such and compliment his mother to her face. "We should probably ask when to post the announcement. I didn’t even think about how it might blow up because of the movie." he mumbled.

As the realtor rattled off the building's impressive features, Felix's mind straddled two timelines, past and present. A slight frown creased his face as his thoughts wrestled between the two eras. His unfolding future with Bella and the regurgitated trauma of his childhood. He forced himself to be present, even if he quickly noticed the realtor had one of those accents where everything sounded like a question. Felix stopped himself from groaning, and from rolling his eyes and instead glanced to Bella again as they walked. It took him about three seconds after that to know that his Belcourt witch hated everything about the place yet was engaging with enthusasism to the realtor's spiel. "Have we ever discussed about how fast the lines blur between actor and liar?" he whispered teasingly as they continued through the building.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 20. Returning Home [B7]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: Third, Snape

Setting: Unknown place during a blizzard

Continuation of: Prompt 2. Restless Waiting, 3. Snowballing, 7. Stormy Reunion,  8. Rosemary For Holly, 16. Keep Warm & 19. Hope

A/N: Let's get right back at it with our dear Severus and Belinna, gosh, what a state we left them in yesterday 👀

Tags/TW’s: Love/Happiness/Life, Grief, Losing All Hope, Giving Up, Battle Of Hogwarts, Snape Lives, Slight Draco Redemption Hints, Muggle Medicine, Crossing Muggle Life And Wizarding Life, Reunion(s), Going Back Home, Asking For Help, Fear, Blood, Hospital

Word Count: 3.3k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• Severus •⩥

The day he showed his most sacred place to her, he lost her. The days blurred together, a week turning into a month, the months into a year until the war arrived. Not one moment had passed when Belinna wasn’t on his mind one way or another, only hiding the memories, dreams, and heartache to present the Dark Lord with the memory of her in his arms as he cried in true despair — making the man believe her to be dead. In a sense, she was. There was never a future to be had between the two. Severus wasn’t foolish enough to delude himself into such false hopes and follies.

What he had done, to keep her safe, was to sacrifice the last chance at any form of happiness or love during his miserable life. He’d enjoyed her from afar, allowed his eyes to wander over her and his mind to have a second or two of false hope — but that was all. If he let go of his barriers, if he allowed any more to exist he would have abandoned everything he’d worked tirelessly for all these past years — nearly all his life if truth were to be told.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t worth it, to him she was worth the world. That, unfortunately, meant he could not abandon his mission to be with her. It would be the death of all if he were to fail and she would have no world left to smile that brilliant smile of hers within. How he missed that smile…

“Severus, my loyal servant,” the Dark Lord said while they both stood in the abandoned hall of Malfoy Manner. “My liege,” he replied, lowering his head for a second as the snake-like man stepped closer. “Tonight, we shall end the impure and lay waste to those who dare oppose me. We will start a new world, a perfect world where those worthy shall relish the freedom from the filth.” “Yes, my liege.” “I can feel it, the time has finally come for the world to see reason and fall in line.” “Yes, my liege. They will all bow, to you, your excellency,” Severus said as he kept his tone even, his face a stoic mask of a void. “Come, let us join the others.” And they apparated to the grounds of Hogwarts, just beyond the border of the soon crumbling defence keeping them out.

Severus could not help but wonder where you were as his feet hit the soggy grounds of the forbidden forest. He, a man of little belief, sent a silent prayer to any god or being who might have listened to keep you safe until the end. If he could lay down his life knowing you were safe, that would be the greatest comfort he could ever ask for.

⩤• Belinna •⩥

I was a shell, a little tiny droplet in the ocean, one grain of sand in the vastness of the world, a perhaps broken little thing that had lost its way. Moving from place to place for more than a year, cutting contact with all those I loved and cherished, hiding — as he asked of me. Why his love mattered more than any other I still couldn’t quite grasp. It just did. Knowing the hopes of ever seeing him again to be close to zero made me feel an even greater need to honour his wish, to help him stay safe, to pretend I was dead so he didn’t need to worry about me when he already worried about far too much.

Perhaps it was silly of me, but by Merlin, I still held on to that sliver of hope that all would be fine in the end. Despite the blackening of the world, the maddening hunts for those not pure, and the waste of life and blood I could do nothing about, I still held hope. A tiny flicker I refused to put out. My one job was to help keep Severus safe by renouncing my own existence. It hadn’t been easy giving my life up, even if it had always been mediocre and of no particular value. It was still my life I gave up. “I’d do anything for him though, so really, why am I thinking about it all now?”

The wind rustled the trees, the canopies swaying and dancing in the wind as the entire sky had gone horribly grey — as if the world knew something I didn’t. The little cabin I’d managed to rent from an old muggle couple in the south of Denmark was a cute thing, with floral curtains and a sort of comfortable ease embedded in the very walls of the place — yet today, I found no peace. I couldn’t get my heart to calm down, if it was anxiety or just longing I couldn’t quite tell. Perhaps something else entirely.

As the day passed, it only hammered harder. I was struggling to breathe when evening came and my entire body was restlessly itchy — a need to move, to run, to get somewhere. It was overwhelmingly strong. So, I paced the little kitchen. Tried to make my body calm down and settle back into its usual state. A whoosh filled the air and I jolted as a dreary-looking elf appeared on the kitchen table. “Master Draco sent me, miss.” “Master-, who?” I asked, trying to get my head wrapped around the creature who looked nothing like the other elf I’d met over a year ago. I had never seen him again after that one time. Was he alright? Still wearing those goofy clothes? “Master Draco, Master Draco Malfoy, miss,” said the elf with a lowering of its head. “My master wishes you to help, miss. His protector, needs help, miss.” “His protector? What-, what on earth are you talking about?” I asked, clutching at my chest where the incessant pounding of my heart was turning unbearable. Beyond anything natural.

“He is to die, but my master is kind, he knows his protector needs help, miss.” “His-, I don’t know who you’re talking— Haaa— ” My sentence got cut by a horrendous tensing in my chest, it felt like my heart was being pulled out of my chest and I fell to my knees. The thud echoed through my entire body, the tang of a memory filled the back of my throat. As if there was something there when there wasn't. “Miss, you need to go. My master’s protector needs you, my master asks you to help when he cannot help.” “Bloody hell, fuck—” I panted, gripped at my clothes, and tried to hold myself still while my chest heaved and seemed to nearly cave in on itself. “Follow your heart, miss,” the elf said. “Follow your heart, my master said to tell you.” “Follow my— SEVERUS!”

The elf evaporated in thin air, I crumbled to the floor. No, no, no. Severus… No… But the ache in my heart only grew stronger, unlike anything I had ever felt before. There had been days of pain, days of tensing, days my heart ached in a manner it shouldn’t have. It all started back when I drank that potion Severus had provided, that day in the blizzard when he tried to break my last hope of us ever being with each other — of him living. He hadn’t managed, I’d still had that flicker of hope and through it all, it never faltered. It nested in my heart like a secret greater than any other.

The ache was unbearable when the elf’s words echoed in my mind. “Follow my heart, follow it…” I whispered in a wheezing breath as I let go of anything and everything, thinking only of Severus as I felt my pounding heart twist in on itself and my body turned too heavy for me to keep myself from laying flat on the cold floor. It turned to soggy ground, damp and covered in roots. The all too familiar surroundings of Hogwarts grounds took shape all around me as my heart thumped harder yet the pain lessened.

I got up on my knees and hands, lifting my head to see a cacophony of spells filling the air — red, green, blue, white, streaks, and explosions. High up, by the crumbling castle, a battle was taking place and my entire body roared at the sight. My friends, my second home, my childhood, and adulthood — it was under attack and I hadn’t been there to help. I hadn’t even known it was happening as I’d cut off the world so completely. Severus… Severus, where are you? I wondered while I tried to suffocate the nausea twisting my guts from the sudden transportation.

I hissed as something snapped at my calves. Looking to the side and back, the Whomping Willow was readying itself to hit me with full force. I rolled away, its giant branches just missing me as I panted and got on my feet. The garbled sound of screams and shouts barely reached me from the castle, a dull murmur carried by the wind. My heart got pierced. Something invisible drove itself through me and sent me to my knees as the most horrendous pain spread through my entire body. My heart lurched in my chest, and I landed on creaking floorboards that seemed to sway beneath my hands and knees.

I panted, tried to suffocate the cries wanting to leave my mouth. Beyond the slightly ajar door several feet came rushing by, dressed in muggle-like clothes I knew it could only be kids. “Hurry,” I heard the all too familiar voice of Hermione Granger. “You can’t go by yourself, mate,” said Ron Weasley — his voice deeper than I remembered but still clearly his. “He’ll be in the forest, I have to do this alone after I take this to the pensive…” said Harry Potter but the voices died down as they moved down the steps and out of the Shrieking Shack.

My heart lurched again and all I could think of was Severus, I didn’t care where the kids were going, what they were going to do or who Mr Potter would be meeting in the forest — all I could think of was getting to Severus, to find him.

⩤• Severus •⩥

I thought she would come… His mind was letting go, turning fuzzy and unlike itself. The poison was spreading, the antidote he’d consumed only staving off his death but not any of the symptoms. His heart was slowing down, his thoughts turned muffled and groggy, his breathing a wheezing barely there. His body slid down the back of the bed he’d been half propped up against, he was tilting to the side and began to fall toward the floor below.

Something soft caught his head, a muffled voice from far away seemed pierced with agony as it screamed a likeness of his name. He tried to focus, tried to stave off the slumber of not dying but being wrapped up in death. “Severus…” It was her, her voice, so broken and frail in a hazy fog. “Severus, no, no, stay with me, stay with me,” she pleaded and he felt his heart thump a harder beat. But just one. You came… My love… You still have hope… You found... me…

His mind turned quiet, his body a mere lump of unmoving muscles and unfeeling skin. His heart beat slowly, just enough to keep him from dying but not enough to keep him conscious. He knew there was no hope, but he was thankful he’d heard your voice one last time. He hadn’t told a single soul of his plan, and so, there was none who could reverse the death his body would face within days from the poison filling his veins. Yet, he was at peace, knowing you were alive and that all would end once Potter learned of his role in the death of the Dark Lord. He had done his part, until the very end...

⩤• Belinna •⩥

I screamed, I wailed, I cried and I pounded his chest while his head rested in my lap. He laid atop me as he had in his office, yet, this time it was different. He was dying. There was barely a breath leaving him, I could only feel the faintest of sporadic heartbeats when I laid my palms against his chest and pleaded with the universe to bring him back to me.

“Why did you do this?” I asked, scrunching up the robes beneath my hands before grabbing onto him. Something hard lay within his cloak, I shoved my hands into the inner pocket and found a vial. There was no label, but as I sniffed it the similarity to the smell of a bezoar was unmistakable. Antidote. You took antidote! My hope soared to the sky only to plummet just as fast. That he was dying in my arms only meant it hadn’t fully worked, or it had been the wrong one, or that there wasn’t any potion strong enough to counteract the poison injected through the wound in his neck. I knew it could only have come from one thing, the creature the Dark Lord held so dear. It was no secret he had a pet snake, a giant one at that.

“Mom!” I called in shocked exclamation as I jolted into a straight position. I wasn’t crying out for her, but if the man I loved would have any chance of survival I knew I needed help — not from the world of magic I was part of, but from the muggle one my chosen family lived in. “Hold on, Sev. Just, hold on for me,” I pleaded as I worked up the courage to apparate. I knew it was dangerous, with Severus being in the state he was it could very well cost him his life. But, I had no choice. If I did nothing he would slowly die, fading away until his heart stopped.

With a deep breath, and all the will I could muster, I cleared my head of everything but my chosen home. The home I was welcome in as myself, without any pressure to only associate with those of the same blood as me. Pure blood. My muggle family was far greater than my biological one, far kinder, far better in all manners and I had them to thank for becoming the woman I now was. Please, please, please be there, I thought and held on to Severus before wishing us away from the battle to return home. Even if returning home after all this time, with everyone thinking I was missing or dead, had my heart in a different kind of uproar.

I shook my head, my hands still grasping Severus fiercely as the familiar warmth of my former home enveloped me effortlessly. The smell of disinfectant and fabric softener, the sound of the radio blaring classical music, and the all-white interior were a contrasting brightness to the gloomy dark we’d come from. No battle sounds or creaking walls were heard either.

I checked Severus over, he was still breathing and his heart thumped in its sporadic pattern with too long pauses between each beat. “Hold on, Sev, please, hold on,” I whispered as I cradled his head in my lap. “Helen, is that you darling?” came the voice of my mom from upstairs, just beyond my view from the living room floor. My heart lurched and guilt trickled in with fear — what if she turned me away now?

It didn’t matter. Severus needed help and, even if Mom would want nothing to do with me, she’d never turn her back on someone in need of her. She was too kind-hearted. “No… It’s-, it’s me,” I said and her steps faltered in the hallway. “Please-, please, help,” I pleaded while sobs racked through me, the comfort and safety of my old home — my old sanctuary — too overwhelming. “Belinna?” Mom asked, her voice hesitant but her rushed steps echoed right away.

“Mom, please,” I whispered and she stopped in the doorway, her face paler than usual while her wide eyes found me on the floor, cradling Severus with tears streaming down my cheeks that I couldn’t stop. “What-, how-, why-, Belinna!” she called out as her face crumbled into a sad relief before she ran up and dove for me, hugging my shoulders harshly. “My sweet, oh, my sweet, you’re alive,” she sobbed and kissed my head. “Mom, please, please help,” I pleaded and held Severus closer to me while she leaned back.

Severus was so pale, so cold to the touch. But Mom switched gears before I had time to say another word. The blood on his clothes, the look of him, it had her in full doctor mode instantly.

She asked so many questions and I had answers for so few. She never asked who he was, what he was to me, where I’d been or anything of the sort while she looked at him, inspected the wound, took his pulse and flashed a light in his eyes several times.

“Oh, where’s Pete when you need him,” she sighed after a while. “What?” “Well, we need to move him,” she explained and I scrunched my eyebrows at her - not understanding how she still forgot about magic after all these years. “Where do you want him?” I asked while taking out my wand. “Oh, right, yes, of course, guest room,” she said in a rush while standing and I levitated Severus up to the second floor, just barely able to swing him around in the narrow landing above before gently manoeuvring him through the door to the guest room.

Everything happened in a rush after that. Mom talked about blood, antidotes, risks, cardiac arrest and a whole bunch of doctor terms I couldn’t wrap my head around while I sat on the floor, holding Severus’s hand firmly while attempting not to break down in a complete mess.

***

Four hours later we were situated at the local hospital, Severus was hooked up to a strange machine that pumped out his blood, purified it, and pumped it back into him. He looked terrible, cold sweat lingered on his forehead, his hair sticking to it and he seemed even paler. How is that even possible? You're as pale as they come, Sev.. “Now, we need to keep him warm, the blood cools when it moves through here,” Mom said while pointing to the machine while I watched her fully dressed in scrubs. “I’ll have the nurse fetch some blankets, but you can hold the tube closest to his arm so the blood heats up from your body heat. It’ll help, darling,” she continued and I moved on noodle legs to the other end of the bed to do as she said.

I hesitantly moved the sticky strands of his hair before reaching up to kiss his cold forehead. “Belinna,” Mom said and I looked at her, not knowing what to say or do. “Where have you been?” she asked, all calm and collected but the tapping of her finger against her thigh said otherwise. “H-hiding,” I confessed. “He asked me to.” I glanced at Severus, avoiding the sad eyes of my mom. The guilt was nearly too much, it had been easier when I didn’t see all the people I abandoned. “This man?” I nodded. “Who is he to you? Who is he period?” she asked and I bit my lip, not knowing what to tell her.

“Belinna, answer me,” Mom eventually said and I caved, my shoulders slumping. “The man I love,” I said. “He’s-, he saved the world, saved so many people, and is seen as a monster. A traitor, a… He’s… His name, I-I can’t give you mom, it’s too dangerous.” “Belinna, I’m your mother and you will talk to me,” Mom declared and a second later my head was pressed into her stomach as she cradled me with all the love a mother could ever offer. I caved. All my fear, all my hurt, all my worry, it all spilt to the surface and I cried while she held me. And then, I told her everything.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Uffh... Gosh, this part hurt to write - reminds me too frikkin much of the movie and how that (questionable) canon ends 😩 Sevy-boy is alive, and he's getting better - now we just gotta figure out the aftermath of this entire mess 👀👍

Q: Would you rather go to a Yule Ball confined to the Great Hall for 10 hours with Severus OR have 52 hours to roam the entirety of Hogwarts and its grounds with no risk of harm but only seeing Severus once from afar? 👀 A: Honestly, this Q is mean... why did I ask this Q? Ugh... I'd have to go with option 2, roaming Hogwarts - so much I wanna see and try so 🙈

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243

@morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus  @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl  @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[fromtenthousandfeet]

I'm going to write a lot of meaningless words because I really want to talk. Sorry author, your blog will have to suffer. I apologize in advance for all the grammatical errors, I haven’t practiced my English for a long time, and it was not good to begin with

We are all worried about what is happening to Jimin, what he is thinking about and what he is going to do. I know a lot of people hope that he didn't sign the contract, but I'm inclined to think that he did. Unfortunately, Jimin loves the group very much and from some of his words in 2023 I conclude that he does not see himself outside of it (the show with Yoongi, for example, and all the "we are family" bs)

To be honest, Jimin's situation can be understood. Despite his strong spirit and hard work, Jimin was practically not allowed to show himself as a solo artist (his only solo work within the group was in 2016 - Lie). Moreover, there were cases where Jimin has taken an active role in composing melodies but was not credited. In general, his artistic vision was always present and should have been developed, but was shadowbanned for the benefit of the group and the company (also lets not forget the narrative where only the great and mighty rap line members write group songs)

However, even in such conditions, Jimin’s inner star shone. The growth of his popularity began with the red-haired Perfect Man, while the peak occurred in 2018-2019. After which the group entered the global market and Jimin's focus was blurred between the maknae line (and to some extent Yoongi). Not only did Jimin lose his dominant role, but he also gained a colossal number of haters, primarily among the crazy shippers who took the helm of the biggest fan accounts

Pandemic, scandal, Jimin's departure from social networks... A chain of unpleasant events happened since Dynamite and then hiatus. It seemed that everything was bad-bad. But no, Jimin was reborn as a phoenix and so did his personal fandom (I mean pjms). Yes, there was a free fall, there were some shitty paid articles, there was Jungkook, carried in the arms of the whole company, but Jimin’s light was bright

Enough of history. Now my true thoughts

Each member was developing himself as far separately as possible from the group. Of course, none of them named their own fandom out loud, as Lisa did, but each was focused on his own brand and media portrait. Some were especially smart and made "new friends". That's what Yoongi and Taehyung particularly did. I think these two have the greatest chance of leaving the group with the least losses in the future. Of course, except for Jungkook, who already has everything planned by the company. Unfortunately, Jimin didn't make new friends, working with the same group of people he'd been working with for the past 10 years. It’s good, of course, when people know you, but it also slows down your further development. If Jimin ever leaves the company, he would be left with nothing (btw he worked on CTT with Ayo and SGMB with Tommy and... Well, I hope he'll never work with them again)

I don’t know how much Jimin fought for himself, but in the end he was deprived of what the whole world knows him for, namely powerful performances and Western influence. Considering that he will be in the army for a year and a half, and when he returns, he will be back in the group, and before the army he practically did not appear in public for a year... In total, at least 3 years down the drain. He may find himself in a situation where his peak value is lost

Last but not least. I don’t really like to talk about the members, but they all showed their true colors in the solo era. Each of the 6 use each other to achieve their goals and get maximum profit from what their fans buy. Many pjms believe that by saying such things you are projecting yourself onto Jimin, but I will say it anyway: Jimin, it’s time to stop being everyone’s punching pillow. Open your eyes. Members can love you, you can love them too, but you need to love yourself more. On Instagram you need to promote yourself, not others. You should write songs not about the group, but about yourself (ah, this f..ing movement in SGMB). You need to go to your own meetings, not to the promo of others. Phew. I said it. I said it out loud

All in all, only when Jimin starts fighting for his rights, something good will happen. Pjms are strong and love him to no end, but no one will fight against the company forever. Sooner or later we will be mired in negativity if Jimin doesn't show that he loves himself and is willing to defend what belongs to him. If he chooses the path of the shadow in the group... He is finished

Anon, amen to all of this. Let's hope that Jimin is able to assemble a team of good managers, a decent social media person, and highly skilled and creative songwriting/producing team that have nothing to do with HYBE. Let's also hope he comes back from MS with crazy high self esteem and doesn't take any shit from anyone at that stupid company, including, but not limited to, his fellow team members. Call me crazy, but I have a lot of faith in him.

P.S. OMG! Your English is amazing. You write so much better than the average American. I take my hat off to you and your English instructors.

[flowers-shouldnt-die]

Metamorphosis

Chapter 2

Pairing: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen/Tissaia de Vries

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, depression, a "complicated" relationship, most likely some smut in the future, stockholm syndrome-ish maybe, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no-comfort. Some fluff peppered in somewhere.

Rating: M

Summary: When is love turning into an obsession? When does forgetting feel better than forgiveness? What are these two idiots doing?

He is spiraling; she has already spiraled. Witness him slowly embracing his obsession.

On the bright side, she is not dead.

Chapter summary:

♫This could be the start of something new/It feels so right to be here with you/And now looking in your eyes/I feel in my heart/The start of something new♫

jkjk although this is the start of babygirl's Stockholm Syndrome. and Vilg kinda totally accepted his obsession✨

Oh yeah and there's some blood in this chapter as well. And a whole ass meltdown. I feel like it was time girlie let it all out.

The days have washed together, even for Vilgefortz. It was the consequence of pain, he figured. The doctors reassured him again and again that Tissaia’s condition was mostly because of exhaustion. Still, it did nothing to ease his mind. She was barely awake for a short while, and now the relentless fever tormented her. His duties awaited him, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side despite all he needed to do. He marveled at her ability to stop him finally. Well, more or less. He still needed to find the real princess, but his men were working on that. His research with the Book of Monoliths was left unattended; he only read the book every once in a while when she seemed like she was doing better. He could have easily made Istredd study it, whether he liked it or not, but that would make him leave Tissaia’s side, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that. This was ridiculous; he did leave her behind before. Vilgefortz tried to convince himself that he was not making sense, and besides, she didn’t want to be near him. He would have been all right living in a world where they were enemies, as long as she was alive. Knowing she didn’t want to live anymore felt… unthinkable. Unbelievable. The Continent was not complete without her. So he stayed and did his best to stop the fever that burned her, but as the days turned into a week and some, his heart grew heavier with each passing moment.

As Tissaia drifted in and out of consciousness, she stirred restlessly in her sleep, her brow furrowed with feverish dreams. Her mind wandered, and images flickered like shadows dancing in the firelight, elusive and haunting. She couldn't quite grasp onto them like a ship navigating through turbulent waters. In her delirium, she saw flashes of battles, whispered secrets, and the faces of those she loved and lost. The lines between the past and present blurred, leaving her lost in a haze of confusion and pain.

The most cruel kind of dreams made her toss and turn: her unconscious must have been aware of where she was and why, and so she saw him, even in her dreams. She re-lived their happiest moments in the sun, how he took her to distant lands, how she could laugh without restraint, and how he embraced her and spun her around. They kissed in the rain and in a hidden meadow blooming in spring. She saw her memories like they happened yesterday; she felt his hand caressing her and his lips on her skin as he promised his sweet lies, and yet she was still aware that it was all gone because of him. Her mind seemed to insist on reminding her of what she had lost, and she would have much preferred not remembering at all if it meant getting rid of this pain. 

When she finally woke from her fever-induced slumber, she softly groaned as she opened her eyes, only to find Vilgefortz sitting beside her. She blinked, trying to focus as her surroundings came into view. The room was dimly lit, and the faint glow of candlelight was casting shadows across the walls. He was asleep, and the light illuminated his face. She must have had a fever still, for in that moment her gaze lingered on his lips for a moment too long, and her heart began to ache. She hated herself for it and wished the scars on him would have turned his whole head deformed and hard to look at. Tissaia struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through her weakened body. 

Vilgefortz had grown accustomed to the rhythm of her breath, the subtle movements of her body as she struggled against the grip of fever, so when she began to move, his eyes opened as well. His expression was unreadable - a mask of concern and something else she couldn't quite place. He reached out to help her, his touch gentle yet hesitant. As she settled against the pillows, she couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. Anger, betrayal, longing - each vying for dominance within her fractured soul. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them. 

Blinking against the haze of her fever, Tissaia attempted to focus on his form. "Why are you here?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Vilgefortz shifted in his seat, his expression inscrutable. "You had a fever," he replied simply. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Tissaia's brows furrowed as she struggled to push through the fog in her mind. "And what do you care if I'm alright or not?"

A flicker of something unrecognizable crossed Vilgefortz's features before he masked it with his usual composure. "You may not believe it, but I do care about your well-being, Tissaia."

She scoffed, the sound tinged with bitterness. "Save your platitudes. We both know caring isn't exactly your strong suit." He didn't flinch at her words, his gaze steady as it met hers. 

"Perhaps not in the past, but things have changed."

Tissaia's gaze hardened, suspicion creeping into her voice. "Changed? How so?"

Vilgefortz hesitated for a moment before speaking, his tone measured. "I realized that no matter what happened between us, Tissaia, you mean more to me than you know."

She recoiled slightly at his words, her heart warring with her mind, and it clenched, a tumultuous chaos of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his intentions were genuine, but doubts lingered like shadows in the corners of her mind. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him warily. "And yet," she countered, her voice trembling with uncertainty, "you've hurt me more than anyone ever has. Why should I believe a word you say?”

Vilgefortz shivered as if struck, his features contorted with pain. "I know," he whispered, his voice heavy with remorse. "I won't deny my past mistakes, but I'm offering you a chance to move forward, to forge a new path together."

Tissaia scoffed incredulously. "And what path would that be? Your path of manipulation and deception?"

Vilgefortz's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. "No, Tissaia. A path where we work together to achieve our goals, where we shape the future of the Continent."

She shook her head, her voice laced with disdain. "I've seen the lengths you're willing to go to achieve your goals. I refuse to be a part of your twisted vision."

He met her gaze, his expression impassive. "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. You of all people should understand that, Tissaia."

She shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "There's nothing noble about your actions, Vilgefortz. You're just a selfish man who will stop at nothing to fulfill his ambitions."

"And what would you have me do?" he retorted, his words dripping with disdain. "Sit back and watch as the world burns around us? We have the power to shape the future. We have the power to make a difference."

"But at what cost?" she shot back, her eyes blazing with righteous anger.

Vilgefortz bristled, his jaw clenched with barely contained frustration. "You don't understand, do you? You never have."

"Maybe not," she conceded, her voice softening with resignation. "But I know one thing for certain: there has to be a line, a line we cannot cross. You seek power at any cost," she accused, her eyes blazing with indignation. "But power without compassion is meaningless."

"And what of you, Tissaia?" Vilgefortz countered, his tone was filled with bitterness. "You cling to your ideals, but at what price? How many lives have been lost in the name of your principles?"

“How dare you?!” Her head was spinning, and anger raged inside her. Tissaia's mind was clouded by fever; her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. She tried to make sense of the swirling emotions within her, grappling with the conflicting desires that pulled her in different directions. She got up from the bed and tried to get away from him, but her legs were shaky and her body was weak. He was surprised at her relatively sudden move but easily caught up to her. Just before he could reach her, she picked up the vase from the table and threw it at him. He dodged, and it shattered on the wall behind him. Before she could hurt herself, he grabbed her hands. She was still hot to the touch, and as he looked into her eyes, he saw that her fever had flared up again.

“Let me go!” She resisted his hold on her. How dare he? She was fighting him, trying to set her hands free, but it only made him tighten his grip. She cried out. Her wounds were still healing, and she could feel her flesh ripping open and the bandage getting wet with her blood. Thankfully, only her right hand got hurt, and she instinctively reached for it to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry. Please calm down.” Vilgefortz was getting desperate. He deserved all of her fury, of course, but he didn’t want her to harm herself. And now he has harmed her.

“You’re sorry?!” Tissaia practically screamed. “You’re sorry?! How dare you?! Such a failure of judgment indeed.” She repeated those fateful words he had told her before he left her. It felt like a punch in his gut. “Poor Tissaia!” She mocked him or herself; he couldn’t tell. The tears escaped her eyes, and she struggled to breathe. 

“How could you?” She asked between sobs and tried to hit him again.

“Tissaia, please. You’re bleeding.” He didn’t try to get a hold of her hands again, fearing it might hurt her further. He was backing away from her, but she followed until he was between her and the cold wall. She hit his face, and the harsh sound echoed throughout the room.

“How could you?!” She asked again, and this time her pain was clear as day in her voice.

“Tissaia…” He pleaded, but she cut him off.

“Answer me! How could you?! How could you do this to me?!” Her legs gave out, and he reached for her, but as he grabbed her elbows, he could only slow her fall. She was sobbing on the floor, her beautiful white hair a mess, and her face wet with tears. He knelt down beside her, unsure of what he should do. The storm that broke free from within her raged on, and Tissaia couldn’t breathe anymore. Vilgefortz tried to shake her, tried to make her listen to his voice, but she was lost in the hurricane of her mind.

Her face turned red, and just when he thought she would faint from the lack of oxygen, a heartbreaking sob emerged from deep within. She leaned down and forward, grabbed her hair while screaming. 

“I loved you,” she managed to say between her cries. “I loved you.” She repeated, and she kept on repeating, between fits of sobs and screams, until her voice became rough and she couldn’t speak anymore. 

The blood from her wrist poured down to her nightgown, and her hair was painted with it in some places. Vilgefortz reached for her and picked her up, even if she’d resist, but she was too tired now. Tired of fighting, tired of living with this pain, tired of living. She let him carry her back to the bed, and by the time he started working on her bleeding hand, she was asleep, drifting in blissful oblivion.

"I've made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. But I swear to you, Tissaia, I'll do whatever it takes to make things right." He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he made his promise to the darkness, the stars, the moon, and to any God who was willing to listen.

-

As the days passed in a blur, Tissaia's recovery proved to be a slow and arduous process. Each day seemed to melt into the next, marked only by the faint shift of sunlight filtering through the curtains and the steady rhythm of Vilgefortz's footsteps as he moved about the room, tending to her needs with a quiet diligence that belied the storm of emotions raging within him. 

The fever had finally broken, but its lingering effects left her weakened and vulnerable. She spent most of her days confined to her bed, her body aching with the aftermath of illness,and  her mind plagued by thoughts of what could have been. She was battered by the relentless onslaught of fever; her body rebelled against her with each labored breath, each tentative movement a reminder of the frailty of her mortality. Yet, despite the physical agony that wracked her, it was the scars of her shattered trust that cut deepest, leaving her heart raw and bleeding in the wake of his betrayal. She longed to distance herself from him, to break free from the chains that bound her to him, but deep down, she knew that their fates were irrevocably intertwined. 

Vilgefortz remained a constant presence by her side, his vigil unyielding even in the face of her silent reproach. He had not left her since the night she had fallen unconscious, his guilt and remorse keeping him tethered to her bedside like a penitent seeking absolution. He had thought that by saving her life, he could somehow atone for his sins, could somehow make amends for the pain he had inflicted upon her. But now, as he looked upon her frail form, he realized that forgiveness was a distant dream—one that may never come to fruition. Tissaia could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, a wordless plea for forgiveness that echoed in the depths of her soul, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, and couldn't bear to confront the tangled mess of emotions that churned within her heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Vilgefortz approached her with a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Please, Tissaia, talk to me," he pleaded, his voice a mere whisper in the stillness of the room. "What do I need to do for you to talk to me?"

She regarded him with a mixture of resignation and bitterness, her gaze unwavering as she struggled to find the words to convey the depths of her anguish. "There's nothing you can say, Vilgefortz," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "You've already said and done enough to last a lifetime." 

Vilgefortz's expression softened, his features wrought with remorse. "I would do anything for you," he continued, his voice trembling with desperation. "I would burn the world down for you if you asked, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences."

Tissaia's breath caught in her throat at his words, the weight of his declaration hanging heavy in the air between them. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his intentions were pure, but doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve, whispering tales of betrayal and deceit.

"That's the problem," she finally replied, her voice nothing more than a whisper, and yet it felt like shouting in the quiet of the night. "You still don't understand. You still don't care about anything or anyone else, only you. You just want everything your way."

Vilgefortz's expression darkened at her words, his expression a mask of wounded pride. "That's not true," he protested without hesitation, his expression tinged with desperation. "Not anymore. I just want you."

She raised an eyebrow, disbelief etched into every line of her face. It was funny in a way. If she manages to pull herself together, she might be able to use it to her advantage. "Tell me what you need of me?" he continued, his voice growing more insistent. "I will give you the world. We could rule the North; I could even kill Emhyr for you. We could rule the whole continent together, make things the way we want them to be."

As the silence stretched between them, Vilgefortz's resolve seemed to falter, his gaze dropping to the floor in defeat. But then, as if a spark had ignited within him, he straightened his shoulders, his eyes blazing with newfound determination.

"We could be the most powerful mages in history," he declared, his voice resolute. "We already are. We just have to take one final step to achieve greatness beyond measure. Together, you and I could reign over everything."

Tissaia's breath caught in her throat, shock and disbelief coursing through her veins. She had never heard him speak with such fervor, such conviction. And yet, even as his words echoed in the darkness of the room, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped her heart.

"We could rule the Empire, the whole continent," Vilgefortz continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each passing moment. "We could reshape the world in our image; there would be no one who could stop us."

But Tissaia remained silent, her mind heavy with conflicting emotions. She couldn't trust him, not after everything he had done, not after the pain he had inflicted upon her. And yet, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if there was still a chance for redemption, a chance to forge a new path together. Her heart was heavy with the weight of her own uncertainty; she was lost in a sea of conflicting emotions that threatened to engulf her in its turbulent waves. She couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that lingered like a ghost, haunting her every waking moment with its relentless presence. Vilgefortz's words echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the fractured state of their relationship, of the chasm that lay between them like an irreconcilable divide.

She longed for clarity, and for a sense of purpose amidst the chaos that surrounded her, but the path forward remained shrouded in darkness, obscured by the fog of doubt and mistrust that clouded her vision. She didn't know if there was still hope for them, and she didn't know if they could ever find their way back to each other amidst the wreckage of their lives.

And yet, despite the uncertainty that plagued her, there was a glimmer of something within her heart, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. She couldn't deny the pull that drew her to Vilgefortz, the magnetic force that bound them together in spite of everything that had transpired between them.

She knew that forgiveness wouldn't come easily, and that healing would take time. She needed space to sort through the mess of emotions that churned within her, to find her footing amidst the ruins of her fractured existence. And until then, she would remain silent, a testament to the pain that still lingered within her wounded heart, a heart that longed for solace amidst the storm of her soul’s turmoil. She didn't know what the future held, didn't know if there was still hope for them amidst the wreckage of their shattered relationship. All she knew was that she needed time, time to heal, time to find herself again. So until then, she wouldn’t and she could’t say a word, an evidence to the heartbreak that still consumed her in every moment of the day.

And so they remained locked in a quiet battle of wills, two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty, each longing for the solace of redemption, each yearning for the chance to find peace amidst the chaos of their tumultuous love. 

[justamaddream]

11.08.03

Cologne, Germany

Last night was one for the books. I played a mind-blowing set at an underground party that felt like stepping into another dimension. The night started with my usual ritual of speed, but this time I added a twist – a powerful drop of liquid acid that Lena had given me. The combination was surreal, making the world around me seem almost cartoon-like, with vibrant colors and exaggerated movements.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived, the air thick with anticipation and the thumping bass of techno beats. As I took to the decks, I felt the energy of the crowd wash over me. People were dancing with wild abandon, their bodies moving in sync with the music. The acid added a layer of euphoria, making everything feel heightened and intense.

My set was a hit. The crowd responded to every track. At one point, I looked up and saw a group of people getting naked, their clothes discarded in a pile as they danced freely. It was a delicious blur of music, movement, and raw human connection. One beautiful german girl sat cross-legged meditating wearing only an open shirt, as if her third rye were opening up to swallow up the room. Some moments felt disorienting, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring in the haze of the night.

As the party wound down, I found myself still wide awake, the effects of the speed and acid keeping me alert. Back at Lena and Max’s apartment, I ended up talking to a guy who didn’t speak much English. He was a bit of a weirdo, with wild hair and a manic energy. We communicated through The adrenaline from the gig and the effects of the acid had me buzzing well into the morning. As the city began to wake up, I decided to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would help clear my mind. With a joint in hand, I set off to explore Cologne in the early light.

Everything seemed surreal, almost magical. The city was bathed in a soft glow, and every detail, from the cobblestones underfoot to the graffiti on the walls, felt more vivid and beautiful than ever. The quiet streets, the occasional sound of birds chirping, the smell of fresh bread from a bakery – it was like stepping into a painting.

As I wandered through a small park, I spotted a beautiful girl from afar. She moved with a grace that caught my eye, her presence almost ethereal in the morning light. She was sitting on a bench, lost in thought, her gaze focused on the distance. I watched her for a moment, captivated by her serenity and elegance. There was something about her that made me wonder if I would ever find love, if I would ever have someone to share these moments with.

After a long, much-needed nap, I spent the rest of the day with Max and Lena, unwinding and recovering from the big set. We lounged around their apartment, listening to records and talking about the party. Max rolled a few joints, and we reminisced about the wild moments of the night. Lena cooked up a delicious meal, her laughter filling the room as we shared stories and reflections.

Reflecting on the evening, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The gig had been a success, and I was starting to feel more confident in my craft.

Later, I checked my email and saw a message from Tobias. He’s planning to visit in a few days, and the thought of seeing him again brought a smile to my face. It’ll be good to catch up and share these new experiences with an old friend.

But there’s also a bittersweet realization creeping in – my time in Europe is drawing to a close. Soon, I’ll be heading back to the USA. The thought of leaving behind the vibrant energy of Berlin, the warmth of Munich, and the new connections in Cologne is bittersweet. Part of me is excited to see what’s next, but another part is reluctant to leave this incredible journey behind.

The mix of emotions is overwhelming. There’s anticipation for the future, nostalgia for the past, and a sense of gratitude for the present. Each city, each person I’ve met, each gig I’ve played has shaped me in ways I never expected.

As I sit here, writing this entry, I’m ready to face whatever comes next.

[kanisema-blog]

So here I was, in the familiar cafe

Rain lashed against the cafe window, blurring the world outside. Inside, the aroma of cinnamon swirled with the bittersweet sting of regret. Three years. Three whole years since I'd last seen Liam's eyes, the ones that once held galaxies within them. We were supposed to be forever, two teenagers with scraped knees and dreams bigger than the sky. But forever, I learned, had an expiration date.

The bell above the door chimed, and my heart lurched. Was it him? No, just a harried businessman seeking refuge from the storm. Disappointment settled over me, a familiar weight I'd grown accustomed to. I was in the same cafe, the one where we'd spent countless rainy afternoons huddled over steaming mugs, writing our futures together. Only this time, I was alone.

Liam and I were a whirlwind romance, the kind that consumes you whole. We were inseparable, two halves of a whole. But somewhere between stolen kisses under starry skies and whispered promises, cracks begin to show. We were young and ambitious, both chasing dreams that took us in different directions. College acceptance letters, a thousand miles apart, became the final blow. The goodbye was a choked sob, a promise to make it work hanging heavy in the air.

It didn't work. We tried, clinging to phone calls filled with static and visits that felt like stolen moments. Distance grew into a chasm, and the silences on the other end of the line became deafening. Eventually, the promise turned into dust, a painful reminder of what we'd lost.

Three years later, I was a travel blogger, my life a kaleidoscope of foreign destinations. Yet, the emptiness remained, a constant ache in my chest. Then came the email. A book reading in his hometown, the city we used to dream of conquering together. It was a sign, a pull I couldn't ignore.

So here I was, in the familiar cafe, the scent of cinnamon awakening a thousand memories. The bell chimed again, and this time, my breath caught. There he was, older, a touch of grey at his temples, but the same glint in his eyes. We stared at each other for a beat, the years melting away, leaving only the raw ache of what we used to be.

He spoke first, his voice hesitant, "Elena?"

The dam broke. We talked for hours, laughter and tears blending into a beautiful symphony of shared history. Time slipped by unnoticed, the rain outside forgotten. We talked about our dreams, the lives we'd built, the pain of letting go. But most importantly, we talked about the connection that still thrummed between us, a melody neither time nor distance could erase.

That night, under the same sky we used to dream under, Liam held my hand. It felt like coming home, a familiar warmth spreading through me. We weren't the naive teenagers we once were, but the core of who we were, the love we shared, remained unchanged. Maybe forever had an expiration date, but sometimes, love gets a second chance.

We didn't rush back into the arms of forever this time. We took it slow, rebuilding trust, navigating the baggage of our past. It wasn't easy. Forgiveness danced on the edge of our conversations, and doubts lingered like shadows. But with each passing day, the love we'd nurtured years ago bloomed anew, stronger for having weathered the storm.

Three years apart taught us a valuable lesson. That sometimes, love needs space to breathe, to grow into something stronger. Maybe forever wasn't a promise we could make, but in the present, hand in hand, we were writing a new story. A story with laughter lines around our eyes and a love richer for its scars. Our million-dollar love

[romcombc]

Book Review for Exes and O's

This book! I am at a temporary loss for words on how to describe this book. So heartwarming, sweet, and endearing. I have never had a romantic comedy with such a touching happily ever after (HEA) that I was emotionally drained, in the best of ways, by the time I read the last page. One warning - I was not aware this was book #2 of a series when I read it. For those interested in reading the first book in the influencer series, Set on You, read it BEFORE reading this one as it does tell you essentially the entire third act of that book.

Tara Chen is a romance book reviewer who has a habit of blurring the lines between fantasy and fiction. With a recent breakup and an unexpected move, Tara finds herself desperately seeking her really life HEA. Taking her grandmother’s advice, Tara decides, with the help of her gorgeous firefighter roommate Trevor, to go back through her past and make her own second chance romance come true.

Trevor still can’t figure out how he has gotten roped into Tara’s “brilliant” plan to rekindle a relationship with a former ex in time for the Valentine’s Day gala. As each hilarious encounter crosses an ex off the list, Trevor finds himself, not only growing closer to his roommate, but becoming personally invested in her ending. The question is, can fantasy handle what reality has to offer.

What I like about the book: It was hilarious to see the role of a book influencer, book reviewer fictionalized. Going with the idea of life imitating art, imitating life; I had to wonder how much fellow influencers have blurred that line, especially in the realm of falling in love with fictional men - i.e. the coveted book boyfriend. I liked how Tara tried to keep her grip on reality but every situation spilled over to a trope for her, giving her the “answers” she needed to figure out the situation, not realizing that real life doesn’t work that way (which of course is hilarious as this is a roommates to friends to lovers trope making fun of itself!) As for spice - the heated scenes between Tara and Trevor will leave condensation on any window.

What I love about it: I loved how layered Trevor was in the book. Sure, he was the “hot playboy with a trouble past” but I enjoyed how Amy used that past, like a real person, to build his present. There is so much more to him than a pretty face and a great body. We get to know him as Tara does and we can see how the fantasy corrupts the realistic situations that do happen in real life (a much needed reminder that the guys normally written in your average romantic comedy are WRITTEN for women).

To dive even further, I loved how much Tara's grandmother shares her abundance of knowledge, dispelling the allure of the fantasy and grounding of reality through her advice. She’s right, problems can’t be fixed by one conversation and in real life, miscommunication is inevitable. It isn’t just about communicating, but learning how to effectively communicate (and there is nothing wrong with seeking outside help to make this happen). It is also important to speak your truth, consequences be darned because they're nothing more powerful than owning how you feel, who you are, and not compromising for the sake of not being judged.

For a romantic comedy novel to stand the test of time, it needs to be one that provokes such strong feelings, you are drawn to it time and time again to get that fix - whether it is overwhelming joy, a much needed laugh, confirmation of self worth, etc. This book provides all that and more. I can't wait for others to fall in love with this story and whatever else Amy writes in the future!

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

Something I need to think about more: what does it mean for character consciousness that Kawi made reference to Pisaeng's time travel in the hospital? Did Kawi and Pisaeng of the past forget that Pisaeng had time travelled after Pisaeng moves forward to the future, until the timelines converged again? Did just Pisaeng forget, so Kawi could not make reference to it anymore until the timeline has caught up? I'm inclined to the latter because if I were in a relationship and knew they were going to do something reckless for me but they didn't know about it for years, I would be desperate to tease them about it once they had finally caught up too lol (the other option is they both retain their memories, of course, but then they both would have known in advance that the time travel was taking place so I don't think that one is right. But it's an option!)

Okay theory time: Pisaeng's time travel adventure is a "new" memory for Kawi and Past Pisaeng never knew it happened (until it did).

I want to start out by saying that I cannot remember which time travel narrative this came (but it was probably Doctor Who). All I can remember is that I've definitely seen or read a story with a similar plot point, in which one character goes back to the past and, once they've returned to the future, those events manifested as a "new" memory for those who were aware that time travel involved and, for the time traveller themselves, it was an event that had only just happened.

Personally this is what I also think happened with Kawi and Pisaeng because:

1) Past Kawi is shown to be sensitive to time travel events and is able to pick up almost instantly that Pisaeng has time travelled. It would make sense that time travel (including that of other people) doesn't have the same effect on him as it does everyone else as he's done it so often and is, technically, living outside of his original timeline. Our man Kawi is basically a time wizard at this point, he knows what's up and is able to notice when he suddenly has a memory from 10 years ago that wasn't there before.

2) Pisaeng may have gone back in time but he barely changed anything. Him and Kawi just went on a better date this time round and were able to talk as equals who were both aware of the role time travel had played in their lives. Everything else stayed the same, as shown by the fact nothing had changed in the future when Pisaeng went back.

I could be wrong but it felt very much like the show was implying that, unlike Kawi who basically ended up blurring the lines between past and present with how much time he spent in the past and how much he changed and ultimately ended up "belonging" to the past, when Pisaeng time travelled he still "belonged" very much to the future. Instead of becoming Past Pisaeng for a day, he briefly replaced him, meaning Past Pisaeng actually had no (different from the original) memory of their date together.

So basically Kawi recognises that he now has a different memory to his original one (which he's had for 10 years) and Pisaeng has literally just made the same memory by time traveling. Neither one of them could have forgotten or teased the other about it because it was something that previously hadn't existed. It's their little time travel secret, their shared little glitch in the universe..... That's rather romantic if you ask me :P

(I don't know how well I explained that or if it made any sense but I had *ideas* and I wanted to share)

Ok I powered through watching the episode on train WiFi and Tumblr is barely loading so I can't do much but I just had to say:

[cut for spoilers]

1) Loved this episode, I think they nailed it at least for me, and I'm satisfied. I knew we weren't going to get everything I could want and am not surprised the show decided to make the higher philosophy point rather than the political point, even though I would have loved the latter. I am very satisfied with Pisaeng and Kawi agreeing together to not change their future and for Pisaeng to have gone back to the present rather than relive their lives as result.

2) I think the award for most correct about what was going to happen goes to @marbles290 ! Congratulations, I will send you a clowned correctly gif later if nobody else does it first.

3) This show continues to do things that I didn't even think of but love; did anyone else interpret what happened this episode as Kawi figuring out by Pisaeng's behaviour that he had time travelled (since he saw him with the music box), and baiting him into confessing by pretending to have deja-vu?

4) On the same track, how is everyone interpreting Kawi being braver this time? I took it that hearing he and Pisaeng last is what gives him the confidence to try things and be more himself or at least less fearful of making a fool of himself.

4) while we didn't get anything about Pisaeng and Kawi joining the good fight (tm) or about marriage equality exactly, I would like to think that the show is subtly choosing to tell us to keep it up via Max, and giving the audience hope that marriage equality is or can be achieved in Thailand in the future.

One thing: if we could not get Not being clowned by the narrative then I wish he had just faded away rather than being at Pear's wedding, he doesn't deserve to even be near her happiness (though I did notice he was not in the friendship group pic on Pisaeng and Kawi's photo table and that was satisfying).

Something I need to think about more: what does it mean for character consciousness that Kawi made reference to Pisaeng's time travel in the hospital? Did Kawi and Pisaeng of the past forget that Pisaeng had time travelled after Pisaeng moves forward to the future, until the timelines converged again? Did just Pisaeng forget, so Kawi could not make reference to it anymore until the timeline has caught up? I'm inclined to the latter because if I were in a relationship and knew they were going to do something reckless for me but they didn't know about it for years, I would be desperate to tease them about it once they had finally caught up too lol (the other option is they both retain their memories, of course, but then they both would have known in advance that the time travel was taking place so I don't think that one is right. But it's an option!)

This show is definitely winning an award from me for the biggest turn around from expectation to delivery (positive) lol. I've had a lot of fun!

Very excited to read everyone's thoughts when I can get Tumblr to load 💕

@waitmyturtles @dribs-and-drabbles @pandasmagorica @rocketturtle4 @thegalwhorants @visualtaehyun there are so many more people I am forgetting, pls forgive my elder millennial brain I will find you later!

[yeetlegay]

i'm so comflicted on how i should be interpreting the scene with porsche's flashbacks. like he looks sooo hurt and heartbroken but is it because he feels taken advantage of or because he did something he usually wouldnt and then kinn punished him? is he disgusted? in the novel he has a hard time because of internalised homophobia but he's not homophobic here, apo even said he sees him basically as pan so it just makes the scene in the show so hard to read for me

I took my time to answer this ask bc I wanted to be thoughtful and process how I felt before responding.

So first off, I think we can't really know where his head is at until Porsche actually communicates it in words. What I say is just based off the visual information we've gotten from ep 5, which doesn't tell us everything.

In the very first scene, we see Porsche facing away from Kinn, bundled up under the covers, clearly numb and traumatized by the previous night. Later we learn that he seems to remember having sex with Kinn, but not much or even anything at all prior. (Probably has to do with him throwing up and becoming more lucid by the time they get in the bathroom.) He doesn't want to be around Kinn in that scene. He wants to be alone. We're left to wonder if Kinn specifically is the person he doesn't want to see, or if he just needs space period.

Here's where I think we get the most insight into how he's processing what happened.

The bathroom scene:

This is where we see Porsche having flashbacks of sex with Kinn, from his perspective, for the first time. The tone is very different from how it was portrayed in ep 4.

The music is uncomfortable, harsh, like something you'd hear in a psychological thriller or horror. (I'm not a music expert or anything, but it sounds like suuuuper processed strings, which is part of what makes it so unsettling - it's a very unnatural sound.) It builds slowly, overlaid with breathing, moaning, etc. This music is like listening to an anxiety attack happen in real time. (And horrifically different from the Free Fall piano version we heard before.)

The flashback is hazy, disjointed, out of focus. In Porsche's memory, it's less clear and less cohesive, just snapshots, glimpses, flickers.

And when he moans in his memory, it's overlaid with the yell he lets out in the present.

The cigarette lighter, the flame he's putting dangerously close to his mouth, could indicate that he's even feeling self-destructive, and hints at the danger lurking nearby in the past and the future with Vegas waiting to pounce when Kinn pushes Porsche away.

This whole scene is designed to make us extremely uncomfortable, even sick to our stomachs, because that's how Porsche feels. No matter what his feelings are for Kinn or how much he may have enjoyed the sex itself in the moment, he still feels violated, hurt, alone. The punishment Kinn inflicted on him just cinches all of that and confirms that Porsche won't get comfort or care from him.

Also, @luckydragon10 we finally got Porsche alone in a mirror, but at what cost??

The failed sex parallels scene (idk what to call this lol):

This scene is a little harder to pin down because it mixes both Porsche and Kinn's perspectives. But I think that's also kinda the point. The lines are blurred between them, between the pleasure they got out of the sex and the other feelings: guilt, violation, hurt, fear, even loss.

They're both having sex with people to try and forget about each other, but I think what's interesting here is that Porsche's memory in this scene isn't necessarily misaligned with Kinn's. His memory might be a little blurry, but he's remembering that he liked the sex itself, even if ultimately it's not how he would've chosen to have sex with Kinn, if he would've chosen it at all. And that's got to feel... complicated, to say the least.

He can't get Kinn out of his head, and he hates it. But how much of that is because of what Kinn did to him that night versus what Kinn did the next day (punishing him, placing him at a distance, dismissing him, treating him as disposable) is something we can't really say at this point imo.

That's really all I've got at this point, anon. I'm sure a lot of brilliant people will put out really brilliant metas this week dissecting more of Porsche's headspace and feelings in this episode, but I think I want to just sit with what I got from episode 5 and see how things go in episode 6. It's clear that this isn't cut and dry on either end, that they both have really messy feelings about what happened between them and feel helpless to fix or even discuss it in plain terms. Which I guess is why they had to get dropkicked into a forest with their wrists handcuffed together, because that's the only way these two will manage to communicate.

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[sirendeepity]

[ Chapter 3 ]

[ masterpost ]

A/N: big shout out to @sayosdreams for letting me fuck the system a little and lifting my mood and view of this chapter in the process, kudos <3

W/C: 2.7k

T/W: alcohol abuse, depiction of depression, suicidal thoughts

It was almost mid-morning when Nesta reached her place. Place that was her sister’s, but that was not the point. She’d eaten her scrambled eggs in quiet silence, alone while Cassian showered. The longest shower of his life, probably. Then she had politely refused his offer to drive her back home, making sure she convincingly pointed out that her sister shared a house with her fiancé, Rhysand, who happened to be also Cassian’s other best friend. He quickly understood where she was going with it, saving her the effort of explaining herself further.

Things couldn’t have been more fucked up, could they?

So she’d walked, for thirty minutes, in high heels.

Nesta had contemplated the idea of taking her shoes off halfway through and settled for a solid yes once she was far enough from the city center, walking barefoot for the second half of the way.

She didn’t knock or ring the doorbell, yet the blue-painted wood frame opened before her eyes. A tall man, with black blow-dried hair and eyes a weird shade of blue that seemed a lot like violet looked down at her. Nesta never believed the shade to be natural; there was nothing his daddy’s money couldn’t buy, and he desperately needed something to make him seem like an interesting person, or at least less boring. His gaze narrowed, lingered for a moment more - she held it with equal unpleasantness - and dropped lower, at her hands: one clutching her shoes by the heels and the other digging through her purse, looking for the keys.

“Nesta,” he said, smiling blatantly, “I heard your monologue from the other room. Impressive knowledge of curses, may I say.”

“Law school proved itself to be useful, after all,” she just commented, taking a step. He didn’t move to let her in, choosing instead to stay still as a pillar on the threshold.

She was in no mood for his tantrums, and she let him know that when she shouldered her way inside the villa.

He followed her, of course. He had to. Otherwise where would be the fun?

“You didn’t come home tonight.”

“How could you tell?” She remarked sarcastically.

“Hope you had a lot of fun with Gwyn and Emerie tonight,” he went on, “Feyre was worried sick.”

Nesta’s brain cut short for a moment. Hearing all three names in the same sentence made her blood run cold. She’d told her friend she wasn’t feeling well, that she would have gone home earlier. Home she’d never reached. If the girls had asked anything to Feyre-

“You could have at least pretended to acknowledge her messages, you know”, Rhysand said, bringing her attention back to the now.

“It would have had to ring first,” she said, looking at him for a moment before retrieving her phone. The screen was black and wouldn’t light up, no matter how many times she hit the home button. That explained a lot. Actually, it explained everything.

“It must’ve died out at some point. I get Feyre isn’t home now, so I’ll apologize to her once she’s back.” Nesta said, turning toward the stairs once again.

“Where have you been all night, Nesta?” Rhysand called after her, a not-so-veiled accusation in his tone.

“That would be none of your fucking business, Rhysand.”

She quickened her pace until she got to her room, pressing her back against the door and letting her body slid to the floor. Her brain was already overworking, mixing images and feelings and memories and possibilities. Past, present, and future had no distinction, the lines between them too blurred to be taken into account, when she whispered against the cold hands pressed on her face “Don’t fuck up again, Nesta.”

[ 1 year and a half before ]

It started as a normal knock, turning into a relentless beat after the first five times she didn’t get out of the bathtub to open the door.

“Nesta, we know you’re in there,” the person outside her apartment said. It was a familiar voice, yet she couldn’t quite remember who-

“It’ us, Nesta. Feyre and Elain. Your sisters, remember?”

Ah, that’s why she recalled who the voice belonged to.

“We’re worried about you,” a softer voice - Elain - said, “you’re not answering your phone anymore.”

Where was her phone?

Nesta slowly turned her head to the right, seeing no little black device on the floor tiles. Oh, well, people said technology was bad, anyway.

“Nesta, if you don’t open the door I-” said Feyre.

Nesta couldn’t grasp the rest of the sentence: she’d accidentally hit the bottle balanced on the edge of the tub while trying to lay down, making it fall to the floor. The sound of shattering glass ate up her sister’s words. Nesta didn’t look twice at what was left of it, or its brownish contents now running through the lines between the dirty tiles.

A moment after the front door locked open and steps shuffled on the ground.

“Gods-” said Elain, or Feyre, or both.

Nesta knew what they were so shocked about: leftovers of the past four days’ meals were on every surface available, along with empty bottles of various types of liquors. You name it, she’d drank it. She remembered stacking the first few in the kitchen sink, but it filled quicker than she had expected. The bathtub was bigger, but she needed it for her therapeutic water-free baths, so the floor itself became the best option.

She heard them moving around, clicking empty-and-not bottles, ruffling papers and boxes, and opening trash cans already full. Nesta only tugged the shower curtain close and shut her eyes. She rested her head against the wall: it was so very cold - as it should be mid-November with no heating turned on - and she felt like she could spontaneously combust, catching fire at any moment. Nesta hoped she really could.

Burn.

The steps became rushed as her sisters started to call her name, concern lacing every letter. The bathroom door flew open, the handle bouncing once against the wall as Feyre cleared the space in little to no time, throwing aside the curtain with so much force Nesta thought she’d ripped it from its rings.

Feyre couldn’t swallow down a full breath when Nesta met her eyes: they were wide and a lot like her own. Nothing was missing in them, though. Her sister scanned her face, then dropped her gaze to her wrists, her bare legs. She was looking for something and seemed relieved when she didn’t find it.

“Feyre did you-”, Elain said, stopping on her tracks once she set foot in the bathroom as well. She muttered something like gratitude to the Gods before flanking the younger sister in front of the tub. Nesta looked at her, too, before saying, “Get out.”

“What?”, Feyre asked.

“I said get out,” Nesta repeated herself, trying to sound as mean as she usually was, but since her sisters didn’t make a move, didn’t even flinch at her words, she guessed she didn’t have much venom left to spit.

“No,” Elain said,” you’re the one who’s getting out. Starting from this bathtub.”

She reached out her hand, her arm slicing the space between them. Two towers looking down a dead body. She left her hanging, didn’t meet her midway.

Feyre scoffed, her distress entirely gone, “We’ve spent the last three hours on a plane, rushing here just because-”

“I never asked you to,” Nesta said, turning back to look straight at the nothing in front of her.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Nesta.” The younger sister’s anger was turning into a palpable thing as she said, “no one had seen you or heard from you in the past week, they’re going to kick you out from the law firm because you didn’t show up once, this place is a fucking junkyard and you’re half-naked in an empty bathtub.”

Nesta saw her moving with the corner of her eye, heard broken glass creaking under her sister’s weight and the bottles in the sink clinked against each other as she grabbed one of them, ruining the precarious balance they were in. Still, Nesta didn’t move. She wasn’t sure her legs would keep her up, not with the pounding, ever-present headache she’d befriended lately.

Elain’s little voice did nothing to calm Feyre down because she kept going on saying, “Do you know how much of this shit we’ve found in your kitchen? Nine bottles, Nesta. Nine. There are four more here and Gods know how many more we would find in the rest of the apartment.”

“They weren’t full,” was Nesta’s only reply. Only three of them were, the rest were just thirds or quarters, what remained from the past five years of her life.

It happened before she could even realize what it really was, before she could give it a name, before she found herself unable to live through the night without at least two glasses of whatever liquor she felt like having. It was subtle, an ever-present shadow in the corner of the room, the kind of thing you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t actively looking for it.

Nesta was a fast learner, so she quickly understood how to hide it well in plain sight: the first time she got wasted after Cassian left for one of his mission, she woke up with a terrible headache and called the office to take a sick day; the second time, she made sure to ask for a few more days off after his departure date; the third time she told her family she wasn’t feeling her best and she thought it was better if she stayed at home. During every occasion - it was dinner with friends and family or an evening spent alone in her apartment, even a night bent over papers for work, or just a quick lunch during mid-day break - there was just one certainty: Nesta Archeron with a glass rim between her lips.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Feyre screamed, making Elain flinch. “Look at you, Nesta. This is-” a pause, “When we saw a knife was missing I-” another pause. No, a full stop. A bottle falling, the sound absorbed by the carpet until it rolled on the tiles, then a sob - from which sister, she didn’t know.

Nesta only blinked and pulled her legs tight to her chest, pressing her closed eyes against her bent knees and folding her arms around herself.

Another sob - from which sister, no one knew. They were all crying.

“You can’t live like this,” Elain said, her voice breaking.

“I don’t want to live at all.”

[ 1 year and a half after, again ]

As soon as Nesta attached the phone to the charger and the screen lit up, it buzzed for three minutes straight. She managed to change into more comfortable clothes before the last one of the messages came in with a ding.

Plopping on the bed, she reached for the device and saw that most of the notifications had Feyre’s name on them. Tomas came close second, only by two missed calls. Nesta scrolled through her sister’s texts - mostly were “Where are you?” or “I’m worried” or “Please call me” but using different words every time. She’d talk with her as soon as she was home, Nesta decided. Apologies held no meaning if said through a phone.

She purposefully ignored Tomas’ messages, leaving them for last, and moved on to the next chat. It was the “DNFWTVBTWKYA⚔️⚜️🦄” group chat with Gwyn and Emerie. The full name - Do Not Fuck With The Valkyries Because They Will Kick Your Ass - had remained the same since the day they’d seen the mythological superhero-god film and developed a crush-slash-obsession for yet another side character, Valkyrie, spending the following two days deep researching everything they could about Norse Mythology as a whole. Nesta still remembered Gwyn’s disbelieving tone when she remarked “the audacity people have not to include a Pegasus emoji, like- the disrespect”. She’d had to settle for the unicorn’s one instead.

IQ+ADHD📚💫: Nes, your sister called me. I told her you were staying with us for the night. Please don’t do anything stupid

IQ+ADHD📚💫: Dying is also considered stupid

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: Don’t listen to her and go do your thing, Tomas deserves everything

Nesta rolled on her back, thinking again about that night and cursing herself in every language she knew. Bringing the phone back to her face, she typed:

Bitch With An Attitude 💥: Sorry, battery died out. R u free this afternoon?

Not even a minute after, Emerie’s reply came in:

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: I am now

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: Tea’s hot right?

She just sent back a few laughing emojis before locking the phone again, Tomas’ texts still unread. Nesta needed to clear her head before talking with the girls, which would help her clear her already cleared head before confronting Tomas. Not that there would be much talking between them. She would play it cool until she was back in Hewn City, that was the only sure thing she knew. What she did not know was how things would go from then: would she tell him the truth? That she had cheated on him with her 10-years boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - she hadn’t really moved on from, apparently, and who also could have easily been the love of her life?

Or would she tell him she had cheated with a random guy with no name and no face and no shared past?

Would she tell him she had cheated in the first place?

Maybe she could just call it quit as Emerie had so strongly - and repeatedly - suggested, and blame everything on their incompatibility, the “it would have never worked out in the long run”, or some shit like that.

Her phone buzzed at her side, throwing Nesta back to the present. The number she eyed on the screen notification was not one of her contacts, and she understood why just once she unlocked the phone and read the message.

It was Cassian’s.

Nesta opened the profile picture, recognizing the shot: she’d snapped it during their trip to the zoo, while he was busy with an ostrich, too afraid of the “weird thing he was doing with his head” to break eye contact first. “It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing sunglasses, Nes. He’s staring right at my soul, he can see it, I know. What if our buddy here is a female and now is mad because I used the wrong pronouns? Special Forces soldier murdered by assassin ostrich at the zoo,” he had added right after she’d made fun of him. Nesta had laughed so much her face hurt by the end of the day. Just a few weeks after Cassian was gone again, called back to the front line, and she was left with nothing but memories.

She hit the exit button and finally read the message: it was a photo of her keys, with “forgot something?” written underneath.

Nesta cursed the universe and Cassian with it.

“If you hate me so much you could say it to my fucking face,” she said to no one but everything was listening to her at the same time.

* * *

Nesta was seated at the same place in the same corner of the same bar when Gwyn came in. She rushed to her, kissing her fondly on the cheek, and took her seat at the other end of the little squared table.

“I saw Emerie while walking here, she just needs to find where to park the car,” she said.

“That’s fine,” Nesta replied, then adding, “I already ordered cake for everyone.”

Gwyn gave her a conspiratory smile, but before a single word could leave her lips, Emerie slumped on the free chair between them.

She started her greetings but stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on Nesta’s hand.

To the six months of sobriety coin - her second one - that she was playing with while waiting to meet her dearest friends.

“Did you-”

“No,” Nesta interrupted her, not wanting to hear the condemning and pitiful words for a third time, “no, I didn’t drink anything.”

“Why is it out, then?” Gwyn asked, eyeing her cautiously. They both knew more than well how well Nesta guarded her secrets, and this one in particular was the biggest of them all. She wouldn’t dare risk it revealed if not for a very good reason.

“It is out,” Nesta began, feeling her resolution coming less with every breath she took, “because I broke a different rule.”

.

.

.

That's Cassian's PFP, because we all deserve a Can Yaman in our lives

.

.

.

Taglist: @confusedfandomslut @nestaspegasus @sayosdreams @bookstantrash @moodymelanist @starksravings @iddragyouwithme @thewayshedreamed @letstakethedawn @perseusannabeth @duskandstarlight @julemmaes @sv0430 @simpingfornestaarcheron @whoever-you-choose-to-love @whoreforgwynriel I have the memory of a goldfish sO let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

[thecursedhellblazer]

The sudden change of subject catches John a little off guard, even if he tries not to show it. He has been ranting in autopilot, about things he can hardly remember, taking large gulps out of his glass in-between.

His latest, fucked-up dealing with Hell. The stunt he has pulled and that has gotten René beyond pissed. That one mess he has made in Avalon the other week. The afternoon he has trailed after Chas and Geraldine, feeling like he was watching them from another plane of reality. The Justice League bullshit Zatanna has dragged him into.

Mundane and magic have been tangling together in his words, just as they do in his everyday life.

There have been people too, mentions of names of those who are still on his life and of those who are forever lost. Cheryl, Brendan, Tim, Gaz, even Kit.

It's one of those nights when all the lines blur, including the one between past and present, and John has learnt a long time before that it's best to just roll with it. Perhaps that's what has prompted Justine to bring up time travel, of all things.

"Sounds like yeh shoulda stayed in yeh time. No ma'er 'ow easier or more convenient th' idea o' changin' woh was n' seein' woh's comin' can be," he comments, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. "It's ne'er wort' th' price. There's reasons why th' past should stay in th' bloody past n' th' future should stay unknown."

He knows all he needs to know about where he's going and what's waiting for him at the end of the road. He has learnt the hard way that he's better off cheating time in the present than trying to navigate its tides.

"Yeh know, one time I lived...if yeh can call it livin'...through a whole bloody lifetime where I was ne'er born n' someone else had lived in me place."

The Golden Boy, his long-lost unborn twin.

"It all seemed way be'er at first, made me feel like shite for existin', but den...it all went to 'Ell anyway, so..." He lets his voice trail off as he takes another drag from his cigarette. "I guess none o' it ma'ers. Woh yeh does 'ere, woh yeh changes back, woh yeh trys to stop from 'appenin'. If th' goddamn universe wants somet'in' to go in a certain way, it makes it 'appen. N' yeh can't do shite 'bout it."

@thecursedhellblazer ── justine & john

"Ah think I experienced a lil' bit 'f time travel in my youth."

her words are curt and cut to the point. she says them as if they were every day things to mention, and she doesn't seem to care about the fact that they were previously talking about things that, to her, didn't matter as much as this current topic. nonetheless, her warm smile doesn't wane, so much as her eyes darkened with understanding.

"Got onna my kids showin' up lookin' vastly different from when I left 'em in their manor wif' the rest of 'em kids. And then they had new 'bodyguards' and a 'butler'. Showed up at one of the diners that they always ran to, ta get 'way from the house. But they's seemed... hopeless. Whereas my kid still rebelled against fate. Against time and tide. Against even me and my best wishes fer 'em. That counts as temporal bullshit, righ', John?"