#i remember you mentioned it last time you came around

[calliopesdiary]

MANIAC

the one where you don't go back to the boys.

part two of the conan gray series

“i wish i were heather” out now!

synopsis: after getting cheated on by your previously expected soulmates, a change in perspective occurs and you find yourself falling for a different set of three.

warnings: foul language, slander on the marauders, sexual innuendos, mentions of smoking, a small taylor

"PEOPLE LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANT BACK WHAT THEY CAN'T HAVE."

Leaving Hogwarts early for Christmas this year was not something anyone could've forshadowed.

You, the girl who spent most of her time studying for her upcoming OWLS in November, had disappeared without a trace.

Of course most of your close friends knew where you were, and some not so close friends did aswell.

"She can't just run away from her problems." Said Sirius, his leg bouncing anxiously from the news Regulus had just sprung onto them.

"Sirius, It'll be fine, okay? When they get back to school, we can formally apologize and move on, right?" Remus attempted to reassure Sirius, but he in reality he felt quite crestfallen.

Lily sat quietly, already regretting her decision to do this with them.

In her head, she knew they had every intention to not cheat and solve things the right way— but she hadn’t helped.

It all started one night at a loud and ear-shattering Gryffindor victory party after a successful win for their Quidditch team.

She got drunk, and they were completely wasted.

And you weren’t there.

So their drunken minds believed it would be a missed opportunity if they didn’t take their chance with Gryffindors golden girl.

Lily knew she should’ve said no, she should’ve gone back to her dorm and hid from them for the rest of eternity.

But fate clearly had other plans.

And after secrets, longing stares, and lingering touches that the truth finally came to light.

and it was all at your expense.

“So— When will our Reggie be joining us, Meadowes?” Evan slurred, his voice carrying a heavily intoxicated tone.

“Soon enough, he’s got one more OWL to complete and then he’s on his way.” Dorcas mused as she gently pet the head of her tipsy sleepy Gryffindor girlfriends head as she babbled on about Quidditch.

Evan nodded drunkenly— before taking another swig.

Dorcas seemed so peaceful with Marlene— who had surprisingly accepted her invitation to spend Christmas with the Slytherins, though Marlene truly wasn’t prejudice against them like others were.

They seemed so… in love.

You had love once.

Remember?

They’re gone.

Remember?

They’re gone.

“I— I had love… once—“ You hiccuped sadly, beginning to sob for the umpteenth time this evening.

You were extremely drunk, who could really blame you?

“Aww… Treasure…” Barty (who surprisingly was very sober) cooed, encapsulating you in a bear hug as you cried into his chest.

“How many more times is she going to do that?” Asked Peter, who— by the way: lied to his friends and said he was going home for Christmas.

He was only visiting for the night, as he was currently visiting his girlfriend— Sybil Trelawney who lived in town.

“Who knows, Pete. Who knows..” Evan slung his arm around him.

“This should be the last time before she realizes that she doesn’t need them, that’s what the sprites are telling me.” Pandora smiled, petting your hair gently in comfort.

“Pettigrew, you should turn back to your rat-pack and tell them they’re trash.”

You spat, in broken sighs.

Obviously, Peter felt a bit of offense to the rat slander but alas— they weren’t aware of his rat-secret.

Quite a shame.

“Sure thing, L/N.”

'FEELS LIKE WE HAD MATCHING WOUNDS BUT MINES STILL BLACK AND BRUISED.'

on December 19th, Regulus had finally arrived at Barty's flat he'd rented for the holidays.

Marlene, Dorcas, and Peter had their departure just the day before, leaving just you, Pandora, Evan, Barty, and Regulus.

Pandora had just wished you all goodnights and dream blessings before nodding off to your shared room for your stay.

"So, anyone up for some firewhiskey?" Offered Evan, who held a giant bottle of the substance.

"Just a small bit, Rosie." Barty accepted his offer graciously.

"Need anything, amour?" Regulus mused in your ear, by far he was the most comforting one. As the other two just distracted you with their own twisted ways of thinking and chaos.

"I'm alright, Reggie. Thank you." You nodded politely, you had felt incredibly off this break.

Though they all weren't stupid, they knew why you were acting strange.

Every year since third year; You and the boys would leave Hogwarts and spend Christmas with the Potters.

Snowball fights, roaring fires, Effie's hot cocoa, the memories echoed through your brain like they were music blasting from your headphones.

Every time you closed your eyes to sleep, you would see endless slideshows of everything you had ever done with them.

The nights of passion, the hugs, the pre and post-quidditch game good luck and good job kisses, the play fights, the happiness.

Your life was black and white before you met them, they brought the color.

But they showed you colors they knew you couldn't see with anyone else.

Well, besides your 'best' friends.

Were you really just that? Just friends?

You were a year younger than the Marauders, same year as Regulus.

and Sirius would be so pissed off if he found out that you were sleeping with his brother-

...

Wait.

Who gives a fuck about Sirius?

Who cares what intelligent insult will come out of Remus' mouth?

And James, he liked Regulus once.

They'd hate you.

But,

Maybe you wanted them too.

So, you ended up taking a few shots of firewhiskey.

Okay,

More than a few.

"Um- actually, Reggie. I- I do need something." You slurred, holding onto your sober ex-boyfriends brother best friends nimble shoulders like he was your lifeline.

"Yes, amour?"

"I want a kiss."

Evan spat out his drink back into his cup, and Regulus' face heated up significantly.

"I'll give you a kiss..." Barty clambered over his boyfriends as his cold, veiny hands meet your waist.

His hands skim your body up and down, before pecking your lips softly, as if he was asking for acceptance.

"Can I kiss you?" Barty spoke so softly, he may have been chaotic and insane- but he was extremely cautious and respectable with things like this.

"I-I wanna taste you so bad.." Evan cooed at Barty's sweet words, as he held an extremely flustered Regulus in his arms, watching the scene in front of him unfold.

"Barty- please, kiss me." You mewled, barely finishing your sentence as he dived into your lips.

His lips surprisingly tasted like cherry chapstick, even though he had just been chugging firewhiskey.

After feeling like an eternity, Barty broke your kiss.

"I've wanted to do that since fourth year." He mumbled drunkenly, gazing up stupidly and lovingly at your blush-kissed face.

His kisses were heavenly, and so were Evan's, and Regulus'.

And needless to say, you didn't return back to Pandora that night.

'YOU'RE POINTING AT THE STARS IN THE SKY THAT ALREADY DIED.'

The return to Hogwarts was an awkward one at that.

But returning back to Hogwarts feeling happier than ever with your boyfriends? That was the best return you could make.

Hand in hand with Barty, you strutted into the Great Hall.

Evan and Regulus trailed behind, as you rambled on and on to Barty about something.

James stared your direction, and you unfortunately met his gaze.

He wasn't dense, he could see how your bright smile seemed to dim.

He smiled, softly.

James knew that they'd never get you back the way they had you.

He should've realized that you were the light of their lives.

Everyone should've woken up to see you.

They hurt you.

And this was their price.

They had to watch you thrive, with three other men.

Who would treat you like a goddess, something they never sought time for.

OPTIONAL FORIGIVNESS ENDING (my fragile angel heart can't take no happy ending)

PEOPLE WATCHING (coming soon...)

taglist; @hisparentsgallerryy @cultish-corner @asexualbuthorny @prettylittlewrites @champomiel @hellothere7 @anakinsluvrr @lady-balem @awkwardalie @nosteponduck @eeviee4 @dreamygirli3 @navs-bhat @angemyrtille @mrssslangdon @siillly @makanirock05 @hcqwxrtss123 @wolfyychan @nislame @lalalandincraz @rorywright @ih3artpjo @st4r-girl-official @pain-in-the-ashe

[dazevi]

vi x reader angst where reader and vi had something before lockup (maybe reader was desperately looking for her/a body for years and never got with anyone else because they loved vi). first time they see vi again, they’re kissing cait. vi has to make a choice (mayhaps someone tells vi how much, how long and how deep reader still loves vi)

SORRY THIS ASK IS LONG BUT NO ONE WRITES VI X CAIT X READER ANSGT AND IM FEENING FOR ITTTT CA

I’VE LOVED YOU FOR SO LONG | vi x fem!reader, angst, squint of fluff, wc: 10k | masterlist

content warnings: not much! angst!!!, brief caitvi, childhood friend!vi, firelight kinda!reader, tiny mention of blood, bit of an open ending, uhhhhh ….

note: sorry this took so long but i hope u like it! (struggled a bit with the ending so i left it kind of open and hopeful :P

Growing up in the Lanes was never easy. The air was always thick wit smog and desperation. But somehow, in the middle of all the grime, there were moments of light—moments that felt almost normal… sweet, even.

For Vi, those moments often came when she was with you.

You were the kind of person who seemed to radiate something soft, something pure, even in a place as unforgiving as here. You were always helping someone—patching up a scraped knee, sharing what little food you had, or offering a warm smile that could ease even the sharpest edges of the Lanes’ harsh reality. Vi, on the other hand, was tough as nails, like she always was. But when it came to you, that toughness often cracked, revealing a gentler side that few people ever got to see.

You met when you were both kids, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the world you were born into. Vi had just finished scrapping with a group of older kids who had tried to steal a loaf of bread from Powder. Her knuckles were bloody, and her lip was split, but she wore her bruises with pride as she swaggered down the street.

Then she saw you—someone small and delicate crouched beside a stray cat with a limp, gently wrapping its leg with a strip of cloth you’d torn from your own sleeve. Vi had stopped in her tracks, her usual bravado faltering as she watched you work with such careful concentration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone show that kind of… tenderness.

“Hey,” she had said, her voice rough but curious, “what’re you doing?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and a little startled, but then you smiled. “Helping,” you said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that moment on, Vi couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

She’d show up wherever you were, always with some excuse—she was just passing through, or she needed your help with something, or she was making sure no one was giving you trouble. In truth, she just liked being around you. You didn’t flinch when she got into fights, didn’t scold her for her temper or her stubbornness. Instead, you had this way of looking at her, like you could see past all of that to the person she really was. And Vi, who had always felt like she had to be tough to survive and protect her family, found herself wanting to be softer when she was with you.

The two of you became inseparable, spending your days exploring the winding alleys and hidden corners of the Lanes. Vi would teach you how to throw a punch, insisting that you needed to know how to defend yourself. You’d laugh as she guided your fists, her hands warm and steady against yours, though she always ended up pulling her punches when it came to sparring.

“Can’t risk messing up that pretty face of yours,” she’d tease, though her voice would always carry a hint of something serious, like the idea of you getting hurt was unbearable to her.

“You’re an idiot,” you’d say back.

And she’d laugh, nudging you playfully against your shoulder, her all ears red as she looked at you, “But I’m your idiot.”

You, in turn, taught Vi the value of kindness, though you didn’t do it with words. You did it with your actions—with the way you’d stop to help a stranger, even when you didn’t have much to give, or the way you’d bandage up Vi’s cuts and bruises after a fight, your touch so gentle it made her chest ache. She’d sit there, watching you work, and wonder how someone like you could exist in a place like this.

And it also helped that Powder adored you too.

She’d often tag along on your adventures with her wide-eyed curiosity. You had a way of making her feel seen, of treating her like she was just as capable and important as the rest of you, and that meant the world to her. Vi loved watching the two of you together, the way you’d laugh and tease each other, the way you’d patiently explain things to Powder when she didn’t understand. It made Vi’s dreams of a better life feel almost tangible, like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than survival.

And then there were the jobs… or whatever she could get from Ekko.

They were never easy—running contraband, sneaking into places she had no business being. Vi loved the adrenaline of it, the thrill of a plan coming together, but there was always a part of her that thought about you while she was out there. She’d see something—a trinket, a piece of candy, a flower growing stubbornly in the cracks of the pavement—and she’d think of you.

She started bringing things back for you, little gifts she’d pretend didn’t mean anything. The first time, it was a shiny button she found while breaking into a some storage room. It was small and completely useless, but it was the kind of thing she thought you’d like. She tossed it to you when she came back, trying to act casual.

“Found this,” she said, her voice gruff. “Figured you could use it for… I don’t know, something.”

You’d looked at her, a little confused at first, but when you smiled and said, “Thanks, Vi,” she felt something warm settle in her chest.

After that, it became a habit.

She’d bring you scraps of fabric, little bits of wire and string, or a half-broken gadget Powder thought she could fix up for you. Once, she brought you a single daisy she’d found growing in a crack on the edge of the Lanes. She’d nearly crushed it during the job, and when she handed it to you, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s just a flower,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you always did. Vi would pretend it didn’t matter, but her ears would turn red, and she’d fumble with excuses about why she’d brought you something in the first place.

She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she knew was that you made the Lanes feel a little less bleak, a little less hopeless.

And as the years passed, the your relationship with Vi only grew stronger. There were always moments when the certain feelings between you became almost impossible to ignore—like the time you patched her up after a particularly nasty fight, your fingers lingering on her cheek as you wiped away the blood, telling her firmly to always be careful, as your eyes search hers. Or the time she caught you staring at her with that soft look in your eyes and she felt her cheeks flush, her confidence faltering as she looked away, muttering something about how you shouldn’t look at her like that. You’d raise an eyebrow in response, then just laugh softly.

But neither of you ever said anything outright. Instead, you found comfort in the smaller things—stolen glances, the way your hands would brush against each other as you walked side by side, the way Vi’s walls would melt away when it was just the two of you.

You were more than just a friend. You were her safe place, her reminder that there was still good in the world, even in the darkest corners of the Lanes. And for you, she was your protector, your anchor, the person who made you feel like maybe you weren’t as fragile as the world wanted you to believe.

But the Lanes always had a way of taking everything good and twisting it into something painful.

The night everything went to shit was the last time life in the Lanes felt even remotely bearable. It had been tense from the start. Vander was gone, taken by Silco, and Vi’s face was set in that grim determination she always wore when she was trying to be strong for everyone else. You knew she was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

You were in the back room of the Last Drop, pacing. Vi had told you to stay put, her voice sharper than usual, her gaze practically boring a hole through you.

“Don’t follow us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay here. Look after Powder, okay? I can’t worry about you and her while we’re out there.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her you could help, that you weren’t as fragile as she thought you were. But the look in her eyes stopped you. So, you nodded, biting back the words you wanted to say, and watched her leave with Mylo and Claggor.

Powder sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, clutching one of her gadgets like it was a lifeline. She kept glancing at the door like she was expecting Vi to come back at any moment, triumphant and unscathed.

But you both knew better.

The hours dragged on, the silence between you and Powder filled only with the occasional sound of glass breaking in the distance or the low hum of Zaun’s underbelly. You tried to keep your hands busy, cleaning up the room, organizing scraps of whatever was lying around. Anything to stop your mind from racing. Powder didn’t really say much; she just watched you with wide, anxious eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the gears of her monkey bomb.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in. You figured you were working too much. You remembered Vi’s words in your head, telling you that she’s always careful, that she’ll always come back to you. And you tried to stay awake, tried to keep an eye on Powder like Vi had asked, but your body betrayed you.

Powder had been quiet the whole night, but as you drifted off, she glanced at you. She hated being left behind, hated the way Vi always told her to stay because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could help, that she could save them. And with you asleep, curled up in Vi’s bed, she saw her chance. Quietly, Powder slipped off the couch, grabbing her monkey bomb and a bag of supplies. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

Not when Vi needed her.

She crept out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and disappeared into the shadows.

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint, low rumble of something distant but violent—a sound that felt like it rattled through the very walls of the Last Drop. You blinked, eyes fluttering slowly as you pushed yourself up. The second explosion was sharper, louder, and your heart leaped in your chest. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the Lanes.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Everything felt too still now, too quiet, except for the faint aftershock of what you had just heard. You rubbed at your face, trying to shake off the grogginess, and then you noticed it—bright, electric blue sparks flickering in the distance, visible through the small, grimy window. Your stomach dropped as a sense of dread washed over you. Your breaths came quicker now, shallow and uneven, as you sat up fully, scanning the room.

“Powder?” you called out softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

You looked around, the familiar clutter of the space offering no sign of her.

“Powder?” you called again, louder this time, but the silence that followed made your chest tighten.

You stumbled to your feet, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap on the floor. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that she was still there—a glimpse of her small frame huddled in the corner, the sound of her fidgeting with one of her gadgets.

But there was nothing.

The couch where she’d been sitting earlier was empty, the blanket you’d draped over her crumpled and abandoned. The faint smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, but it was missing the warmth of her presence.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing as you pieced together what must have happened.

You remembered the way she had been clutching that monkey bomb earlier, the way her eyes had flickered with something desperate and restless.

She left.

Your knees nearly buckled as you made your way to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass. The sparks of blue still flickered in the distance, bright against the dark, polluted haze of the Lanes. The explosions hadn’t stopped, and now there were faint trails of smoke rising into the air.

“Powder,” you whispered, the weight of her name heavy on your tongue.

She had gone after Vi, you were sure of it. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. She was out there—your sweet, fragile Powder—in the middle of whatever chaos was unfolding.

And Vi… Vi had told you both to stay behind.

Now, you were running as fast as you could.

And when you got there, everything was on fire.

Buildings were crumbling under the weight of the flames, black smoke billowing into the sky and choking the air around you. The heat was suffocating, stinging your eyes and making it hard to breathe. You stood there, frozen, your wide eyes scanning the devastation. The ground was stained with dark, wet streaks that gleamed in the firelight—blood. It was everywhere, smeared across the cobblestones, trailing through the debris, pooling in some places as if marking the spots where someone had fallen.

But there were no bodies.

No sign of Vi. No Mylo. No Claggor. No Powder. Just… nothing.

Your chest heaved as you tried to take it all in, your mind struggling to make sense of the chaos. The silence was deafening, broken only by the relentless crackle of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. You called out for them. You spent hours waiting, searching and trying.

But, there were no voices, no footsteps, no cries for help.

Just emptiness.

Nothing.

The days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Time moved forward, but you stayed stuck in the same moment—the night everything fell apart. The fire, the blood on the streets, the faces of everyone you loved burned into your memory like scars you couldn’t erase. It didn’t matter how much time passed. You never stopped seeing them. Never stopped feeling the weight of their absence.

Life in the Undercity didn’t wait for grief. It didn’t give you the chance to sit still and process the ache in your chest or the emptiness that had swallowed your world whole. The streets you grew up on were darker now, quieter, yet somehow more dangerous. Shimmer twisted its way into every crack and corner, poisoning the air you breathed.

You still had Ekko. He stuck close, as much as he could, and you were grateful for him in ways you couldn’t put into words. But even with him around, the loneliness lingered anyway.

Nights were the worst. The silence of your small, dimly lit room pressed down on you, and your mind replayed every memory of Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Sometimes, you could almost hear their laughter echoing in the distance.

Almost.

You never stopped looking for her.

At first, it was constant. Every waking moment you scoured the streets, searching for any trace of her. You asked anyone who would listen if they’d seen her, but no one had. Not a single person could tell you where she had gone or what had happened to her. Some said she was dead. Others said she’d been taken topside, to Piltover’s dungeons. You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked for Powder, too. Sometimes, you felt like you’d seen traces of her somewhere, certain colors she liked, drawings on the wall… It was like she was there, but she wasn’t… like she didn’t want to be found.

And years passed, but the hope never left you. Not fully. Even when the streets seemed colder, even when Ekko begged you to stop putting yourself in danger, you kept searching. You’d walk the streets at night, hood pulled tight over your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink hair or hear her sharp voice in the crowd. Every time you saw a tall figure in the shadows, your heart would leap, only to sink seconds later when it wasn’t her.

You wondered, sometimes, if she was looking for you too. If she was out there somewhere, wondering what had happened to you. If she missed you the way you missed her. Those thoughts were the only thing that kept you going on the hardest days.

The Undercity changed around you. The shimmer trade grew stronger, its effects spreading like a disease. People you’d known your whole life turned hollow, their eyes glassy, their voices slurred. Survival became harder with each passing day. But even as the world around you crumbled, you held onto the memory of Vi.

Her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to look at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were something more than just a friend. The way she used to bring you small, silly things from her jobs—half the time things she swore she’d found by accident, even though you knew better.

You missed her so much it hurt.

Then, one night, Ekko came to visit you.

He had news about Powder.

He’d seen her, he said. And it didn’t make sense at first.

He sat across from you in the dim, flickering light of the small hideout you’d both retreated to. His voice was almost hesitant, but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Regret? Anger? Grief? Maybe all three, twisted together in a way that made him seem older than he was, like the years had weighed heavier on him than they should have.

You were hunched over, elbows resting on your knees, your face buried in your hands. It had been another fruitless day, searching for a ghost you weren’t sure even existed anymore. Your body ached, your head throbbed, and the emptiness in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole.

And then Ekko said it—he said her name.

“Powder… she’s not the same anymore.”

At first, you thought he meant something else. Maybe she’d grown up like the rest of you, toughened by the streets and the weight of survival. Maybe he’d seen her, and she was angry, distant, bitter about the past. You could’ve handled that. You could’ve understood that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“She goes by Jinx now.”

You lifted your head slowly, confusion knitting your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was sharp, tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Powder wouldn’t call herself that. That’s not… that’s not her.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his expression hard but laced with pain. “It is her. She’s with Silco now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “She wouldn’t—she’d never—”

“She’s different, (Y/n).” His voice cracked, just barely, but enough to make you flinch. “She’s not the kid we knew. Silco got in her head, twisted her up. She’s… dangerous now.”

You sat back, your body rigid, your mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Powder was sweet, shy, maybe a little clumsy, but always full of love and hope. Powder adored you. Powder idolized Vi. She’d never turn into someone like… like that.

“Where did you hear this?” you demanded, your voice low but trembling. “Who told you?”

“I saw her,” Ekko said flatly. “It’s her, (Y/n). She’s been running with Silco’s people for years. She’s the one behind half the chaos in the Lanes right now. You’ve heard about the explosions, the heists—the people disappearing. That’s Jinx.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“That’s Powder.”

You stared at him, the words refusing to sink in. It felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you, leaving you floundering in freefall.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Powder wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that.”

“I wish I was wrong,” Ekko muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “But I’m not. She’s gone. The Powder we knew—she’s gone.”

“No,” you snapped, louder this time, anger rising to the surface as your chest tightened with panic. “She’s not gone. She’s just… confused, or scared, or… something. She wouldn’t just…”

Ekko’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought the same thing when I first saw her. I wanted to believe she could still come back, that maybe I could fix it. But she’s too far gone. Silco’s got his hooks right into her. She’s not the kid we grew up with anymore. She’s…”

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“She’s dangerous.”

You shook your head again, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your thighs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Powder was your friend, your family. She was bright and sweet and full of so much love. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a monster.

The thoughts clung to you every night. Powder—Jinx—had become someone unrecognizable, and you couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What would Vi think if she knew? Would she be disappointed in you for not doing more, for not stopping Powder before it was too late? Would she think you’d failed her?

Vi. Her name echoed in your mind. You missed her in a way that was so all-encompassing it became a part of you. You missed the way she used to tease you, the way she’d smirk like she had the world figured out, even when she didn’t. You missed patching her up after a fight. You missed how she’d smile at you, telling you that things to brighten your day. You missed everything.

It was only recently that you realized why the ache felt so sharp, so endless. You loved her. You’d loved her for years, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself until now. It was why you couldn’t let her go, why no one else had ever been able to fill the void she left behind.

People had tried. There were a few who flirted with you, a few who asked you to dinner or drinks. But you’d always brushed them off, always found an excuse. None of them were her. None of them had her fire, her strength, the way she made you feel seen and safe all at once.

The years hadn’t been kind to you, but you’d done your best to survive, to keep going even when it felt like the world was crumbling around you. You’d thrown yourself into helping Ekko and the Firelights, finding purpose in their mission even when you felt lost.

You patched them up when they were injured, your hands steady as you cleaned wounds and wrapped bandages. You shared what little food you had, sometimes going without so they wouldn’t have to. You became someone they could rely on, even if you didn’t always feel strong yourself.

But that strength went away a couple months later—the day you saw her again. It was something you didn’t prepare yourself for. You hadn’t expected it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the hideout’s makeshift roof caught on the edges of your hair as you worked, pulling ripe fruits and vegetables from the small garden that the Firelights had nurtured in secret. The air was damp but fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the faint hum of life. You liked working in the garden—it gave you a moment of peace, a small break from the weight of everything outside.

When you were done, your hands were covered in dirt, and a bead of sweat traced its way down your temple. You wiped your brow with the back of your arm, sighing softly. A few of the others nodded at you in thanks as they carried the baskets of food away. You stayed behind, crouched by the water pump, scrubbing the grime from your hands and under your nails.

The cool water washed over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself pause, closing your eyes as the sound of the stream drowned out your thoughts. But it didn’t last long. The quiet never did.

Once you were cleaned up, you shook off the weariness and decided to find Ekko. You’d been meaning to talk to him about something—or maybe you just wanted to hear a familiar voice. The hideout could feel suffocating at times, even though it was a sanctuary for many. Ekko had a way of cutting through it, reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

But as you made your way through the winding halls of the hideout, you stopped short, your breath catching in your throat.

In one of the side rooms, barely lit by the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks, you saw them.

A girl with blue hair stood close to another figure, her delicate fingers brushing against the cheek of the person in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces at first, your mind taking an extra second to register what you were seeing. But then the pink hair caught the light, vibrant even in the dim room, and your chest tightened.

Vi.

Your Vi.

And she wasn’t alone.

The blue-haired girl leaned in, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Vi didn’t pull away, her hand resting gently on the girl’s waist, her shoulders relaxing in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

You froze, rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to carry you forward—or away. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention, but none of them loud enough to break through the sudden ache in your chest.

She was here. She was alive. But she wasn’t yours.

You didn’t know whether to cry out, to step into the room and demand an explanation, or to turn and run before they could see you. You wanted to be happy that she was safe, but all you could feel was the slow, creeping weight of heartbreak as it settled over you.

Because in that moment, it was clear—Vi wasn’t yours to miss. Not anymore.

“You have some explaining to do.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, but they spill out before you can stop them.

You stand at the threshold of Ekko’s lab, chest heaving, heart racing in disbelief. The image of Vi with another woman—kissing her, holding her—flashes in your mind and it’s all too much.

Ekko stands abruptly, looking as startled as you feel. His eyes widen, and his hand instinctively scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve known him to do since you were kids.

“I—I was gonna tell you today,” he stammers, voice cracking slightly as he fumbles for his words. “We just got her last night… when we ambushed Jinx…”

Your breath catches, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in your chest. “You ambushed Jinx? And now you’re bringing Vi back in like this? Without telling me?”

The words come out harsher than you intend, but it doesn’t matter right now. Your mind is spiraling.

Ekko holds up his hands, trying to calm you, his gaze softening. “I was going to tell you! I just… After everything with Jinx… I didn’t know if she was someone I could trust yet.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for the first time since you walked in here, a part of you slows down. After everything that happened, Vi could very well be someone you couldn’t trust. Someone who might have changed in ways you couldn’t understand. It stings to admit, but the doubt starts to creep in. You know Ekko—his loyalty runs deep, but he’s also careful. He always has been. You take a step back, your fists uncurling as you exhale sharply.

You swallow your frustration and let the silence settle between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Can we trust her?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but felt, before you finally speak it.

“So… can we?” Your voice is quieter now, more hesitant. You want to hear reassurance, but you’re not sure if it’ll come.

Ekko doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales, a long, drawn-out sigh that betrays a weariness you hadn’t noticed before. When he finally looks up at you, his gaze holds something you hadn’t expected—a tenderness, a vulnerability. His lips curl into a small, almost wistful smile, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing something you can’t.

“I think so,” he says softly, his voice quiet but steady. “I think we can.”

You sigh, blinking a few tears away.

“Who’s that… that girl she’s with?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Ekko’s gaze, because the truth feels like it might crush you. The girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, is with someone else now. And it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, let alone confront it head-on.

Ekko’s silence stretches out for a moment, the room growing thick with the tension that neither of you knows how to ease. But then, slowly, his eyes soften, and you can hear the careful way he breathes in, like he’s about to tell you something heavy. His voice is gentle when he speaks, like he’s trying to cushion the blow without sugarcoating it.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Ekko says, and there’s a noticeable pause before he continues, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, picking out the right words. “She’s… She’s an enforcer, but…she’s different. I don’t think she’s on Silco’s side.”

Your stomach tightens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, and you can feel a bitter knot in your throat.You finally glance up at Ekko, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any trace of what this means.

“Are they…?”

Ekko looks at you for a long, quiet moment, like he’s weighing your reaction against his own thoughts. He doesn’t look at you with pity, though; there’s no judgment in his gaze. Just understanding.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think Vi’s been through a lot. And Caitlyn… I don’t know what they have, but I can’t pretend I understand it. I’m still trying to figure out where Vi stands with all of this… All I know is Vi wants her sister back.”

You can’t look at Ekko anymore. The pain of it is too much, a heavy weight that presses down on you like the sky is collapsing. You back away, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… I thought she’d come back for me, for us,” you say softly, almost to yourself. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable.

Ekko doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but you can feel the weight of his sympathy.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice quieter, softer. “I don’t think she’s forgotten you. I think she’s just trying to figure out everything for herself… Besides, she was… actually wondering if you were still around.”

“She was?” Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost shaky as you try to grasp what he just said.

Ekko nods, though his face is filled with something close to guilt, like he knows how this news might break you. “Yeah. She asked about you when she came in… said she didn’t know what happened to you after… everything.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your chest tightening at his words. The weight of it presses down on you, sinking deep.

“Where has she been… all this time?” The question slips out quietly before you can stop it.

Ekko hesitates, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a long pause before he finally answers, each word like a slow puncture to your heart. “Stillwater.”

The name hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, unable to process at first, the words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull. It’s a place that steals everything from you, even the will to remember who you were before. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Vi… Vi was there?

The thought twists something deep inside you, like a sharp ache that spreads through your chest and down into your stomach. It felt impossible to imagine Vi—your Vi—there. The strong, fearless girl you grew up with, the one who fought for every scrap of life she could hold onto. The thought of her, trapped in that hellhole, stripped of the fire that had always burned in her… it’s unbearable.

“You should… probably be talking to her about all of this.”

You freeze at Ekko’s words, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of speaking to her again, of standing face to face with her after all these years, makes your blood run cold. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, breathing feels like a chore.

“I…” You try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat.

What could you say to her? After all this time? The distance between you both feels impossibly wide now, like a canyon you’ll never be able to cross. The thought of seeing her, of facing the reality of what’s changed, of all the years that slipped through your fingers—it paralyzes you. You want to see her. You want to run to her and hold her, tell her everything you’ve kept locked away for so long, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not ready for that.

Your hands are shaking now, and you clutch at the edge of the table for support, your palms slick with sweat.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you say.

Your voice cracks under the weight of your own fear. The thought of facing Vi, of seeing her and realizing how much has changed, of feeling the space that’s grown between you both—it feels impossible.

Ekko watches you, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s something else in his eyes, something unreadable.

“I get it,” he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to rush into anything. I know you’ve been carrying this around for a long time.”

But the truth is, you don’t just carry the weight of all that time apart—you carry the weight of your own fear. Fear that she’ll see you as a stranger. Fear that you won’t know how to talk to her anymore. Fear that everything that once felt so easy between you and Vi will have changed beyond recognition. The thought of her not loving you anymore, or of you not being able to love her the same way, makes your stomach churn.

You bite your lip, unable to finish the thought, as your mind races in a thousand different directions.

“Does she know I’m here?”

Ekko’s gaze shifts, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He looks like he’s struggling with something, something he doesn’t want to say, but he knows he has to. He shifts on his feet, a sigh escaping him as he scratches the back of his neck again, the tension in his posture telling you more than his words ever could.

“I… I told her you’re around,” Ekko finally says, his voice soft but weighed with caution. “Not here exactly, though. I wanted to warn you before…”

Before everything changes.

But a knock at the door stills the air in the room. It’s sharp, sudden, and it cuts through the heavy silence that’s settled between you. You don’t move at first and Ekko hesitates for a moment, then turns, just as the door creaks open.

And then, there she is.

You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move as your eyes lock onto hers. It’s like the whole world stops for a moment—your heart, your thoughts, everything. She’s standing there, in the doorway, her eyes wide as they sweep over you. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re here. That you’re real.

Her gaze flickers across you—your eyes, your face, the way you’ve changed over the years. You can see the shock in her features, the way her breath catches for a split second before she can speak.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice raw, as if the sound of your name in her mouth is a shock to her as much as it is to you.

There’s a long pause. Neither of you move, neither of you speak, as if neither of you knows how to start, what to say. Vi stands there, her eyes fixed on you, and you can see the wheels turning behind her expression. She doesn’t look the same as the girl you once knew, but her eyes—those blue eyes—are still the same, full of emotions you can’t quite place.

Vi’s eyes trail down your form, and you can see her struggling to hide the way her gaze softens as she takes in how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed. You’re different now—more than just the girl she once knew in the Lanes—but somehow, at the same time, you’re still the same person. The one who was always kind, always caring. The one who had a heart too big for the world they were in.

You watch as her eyes linger on you, not saying a word, just staring. A small breath escapes her lips, like she’s struggling to hold back some emotion, some surge of feelings that are too heavy for her to put into words. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are stuck inside her.

“I, um… I have work to do, Ekko.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You tear your gaze away from Vi, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to break free. The weight of everything, of all the lost time, of everything you thought you had buried, feels like it’s crashing down on you in waves.

You can’t look at her anymore. Not like this. Not when everything in you is screaming to hold her, to ask her why she left, to beg her to stay. But you can’t. Not yet. Not when the hurt is still so raw.

You turn quickly, brushing past Vi with a sharp movement, your steps frantic, but trying to remain composed. Your heart races in your chest as you feel the heat of her eyes on your back, but you don’t look back. You can’t. The moment you do, you’re afraid you’ll break, and you can’t afford to break now.

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the soft echo of your hurried footsteps fading as you walk away. You don’t look up, don’t let yourself feel the weight of the emptiness in the room, even though you know it’s all there.

But you’re not ready. Not yet.

Ekko watches the door for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and a little sad. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that nothing he could say will ease the tension in the room.

Vi stands there, still frozen, her mind processing everything all at once. The way you walked out, the way you didn’t look back, how quickly you shut yourself off. She swallows hard, as if trying to force her emotions to settle. But they don’t. They’re all tangled up in her chest. She wants to go after you. She wants to explain.

“(Y/n)…” Vi whispers the name, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it real, bring back the girl she thought she had lost forever. “She’s… grown.”

“We all have.”

His eyes flicker to Vi, his expression unreadable. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels quite right. He knows how this is going to land—knows it’s going to hurt, even though he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

“I think she saw you and Caitlyn,” he says quietly. “Together, I mean.”

Vi’s body stiffens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, her eyes snapping to Ekko in disbelief. The shock is instant, followed by a sharp pang of guilt that twists in her chest. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation—of the way you had looked at her, of how you had walked out without saying anything more, as if something between the two of you had shattered. And now this. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck, tangled in her throat.

Ekko slumps back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the worn surface of his desk. He doesn’t know what to say to either of them. His gaze remains fixed on Vi, her posture still stiff, eyes distant.

“She thinks you’re together…” Ekko looks at Vi with curiosity. “Are you?”

Vi’s heart stutters in her chest, and she looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

“No,” she answers, almost too quickly. “No, we’re not together.”

Her voice wavers slightly, the truth of her feelings suddenly coming to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. Caitlyn is kind and gentle, but it’s never been like that with her. She only met her this week. Vi doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not love—not like what she’s felt, and still feels, for you.

The kiss was… a moment of comfort, of trying to hold onto something familiar in a world that’s changed beyond recognition. It meant nothing. Or at least, it shouldn’t have meant anything. But now, knowing that you’d seen it, knowing that it might hurt you—it stings. And it stings more than she’s willing to admit.

Ekko watches her for a moment and sighs. He knows Vi well enough to see that flicker of something in her eyes, that far-off look, the hesitation that’s always there when she’s thinking about you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he mutters, “But you do need to talk to her.”

Vi nods slowly, her gaze flicking toward the door again.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if to herself. “I know. I just… I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long, Ekko.”

Ekko exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She looked for you, you know. She hasn’t stopped. And she’s been alone for a long time too, Vi. She deserves to hear it.”

Vi doesn’t respond. The words hit her harder than she’s willing to admit. She knows Ekko’s right, but the fear of rejection still clings to her like a shadow. She’s afraid of what will happen if she faces you, afraid of seeing that disappointment in your eyes, hearing the anger in your voice. Afraid that even if she tries, it won’t be enough.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settling in her chest.

“I’ll go find her.”

The climb to the top of the tree feels longer than it should, but Vi knows she’s stalling. Her hands grip the wooden edges tighter than they need to as she hauls herself up, each rung feeling like a step closer to a moment she’s not sure she’s ready for. Ekko’s words still echo in her head—She’s probably already up there, and needs the space, but… she deserves to hear from you.

And now, standing at the edge of the makeshift platform high above the Firelights’ hideout, Vi spots you. You’re sitting near the edge, your legs dangling over, one hand resting loosely on the ground for balance. The jukebox below hums softly, sending the faint notes of a melancholy tune drifting up through the cool night air. The lights of the community twinkle far beneath you, and the laughter and chatter of the people below seem like they belong to another world entirely.

Vi freezes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. You haven’t noticed her yet, and she’s glad for it because it gives her time to take you in.

It’s been years since she’s seen you like this—quiet, lost in your own world. There’s something familiar in the way you tilt your head as you gaze out at the lights below, something achingly reminiscent of the person she remembers from all those years ago. She can’t help but wonder if you’re still the same in other ways, too. If you still laugh at dumb jokes, or hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought. If you still carry that kindness in your heart, despite everything the world’s thrown at you.

But there’s also something different, something that makes her chest ache. You look older. Wiser, maybe. More beautiful than she remembers, though she feels like that’s impossible, because she’s always thought you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

God, you’re beautiful. The thought hits her so suddenly that it makes her chest ache. It’s not just the way you look, though that alone would be enough to leave her speechless. It’s everything about you—the way you seem so untouchable and yet so heartbreakingly human all at once. She feels like a fool for standing here and staring, but for the life of her, she can’t seem to look away.

And then there’s the way the moonlight catches on your face, illuminating the faint shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. Vi doesn’t even need to see your expression to know what you’re feeling.

For a long moment, she just stands there, unsure of what to do or say. She wants to run to you, to pull you into her arms and tell you she’s sorry, that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere this time. But she knows it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.

Finally, she takes a hesitant step forward, her boots making a soft thud against the wooden planks. You stiffen slightly, your head turning just enough to catch her in your peripheral vision. You don’t say anything, but the way your shoulders tense tells her you’ve already guessed it’s her.

Vi hesitates again, her heart pounding in her chest as she moves to sit beside you. She doesn’t get too close, leaving enough space between you that you won’t feel trapped, but close enough that she can see the way your fingers grip the edge of the platform like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

For a few seconds, the silence between you is unbearable. Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the words don’t come. She’s never been good at this—talking about feelings, finding the right thing to say.

But as she watches you, she knows she has to try.

“Nice spot you’ve got here,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s quiet… Beats the chaos down there.”

It’s not much, and she knows it. She winces at how lame she sounds, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to say anything more. She’s afraid if she does, it’ll all come tumbling out—the guilt, the regret, the years of wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t been taken, if she’d fought harder, if she’d found a way back sooner.

You don’t respond right away, and she can’t tell if it’s because you’re ignoring her or because you just don’t know what to say either. She glances at you again, her eyes lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your lashes cast faint shadows against your cheeks.

You’re so close, but it feels like there’s an entire world between you.

When you finally do speak, your voice is so soft, almost drowned out by the music drifting up from below. “It’s always been my place to think. To get away… I have Ekko to thank for it.”

Your words are simple, but they carry so much weight, and Vi feels the knot in her chest tighten. She wonders what you’ve been thinking about up here all this time. If you’ve been thinking about her. If you’ve been wondering where she’s been, what she’s been doing, why she never came back.

“I can see why,” Vi says, trying to keep her tone light even though her heart is pounding. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

She means the lights, of course, the way they twinkle below like stars scattered across the ground. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not looking at the lights at all. She’s looking at you.

You finally turn to look at her, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks her. There’s so much there—pain, anger, sadness—but there’s something else, too. Something softer. Something she doesn’t think she deserves but hopes for anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d come up here,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looks at you, her throat tight, and she wishes she had the courage to tell you the truth. That she’s here because she couldn’t stay away. That she misses you.

Instead, she just nods, her voice low and a little rough when she finally speaks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

You look away again, your gaze returning to the lights below, and Vi knows she should say more, but she’s afraid. Afraid of making things worse. Afraid of losing whatever small chance she might have left to fix things.

She looks at you softly, “How have you been?”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence lingers. Vi shifts slightly, her body aching to close the distance, to somehow make things right, but she doesn’t move.

Then, it’s you who breaks the quiet after a short while, your voice soft and tentative, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the everything around you.

“It’s hard to think about you in prison,” you say, the words stumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Vi stiffens at the mention of it. Her chest tightens, as though she’s been struck, but she doesn’t look at you, doesn’t dare.

“I know it must’ve been hard,” you continue, your gaze still locked on the flickering lights below. “Being in there… for so long. I can’t even imagine how it felt. It must’ve been… suffocating.”

Vi can hear the way you say it, that compassion in your voice that makes her want to crumble. You’ve always been so gentle, even when the world around you was anything but.

The memories are sharp, jagged shards of regret that pierce her chest whenever she lets herself think about it. The days in that cold, lonely cell feel like a lifetime ago, but the scars—physical and emotional—are still fresh. The world had felt like a cruel, unyielding force back then. Every day in prison, every blow to her body, every quiet, restless night, had worn away the person she used to be. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be carefree or loved.

“I was so… lost,” Vi mutters quietly, her voice rough from the weight of years. “I spent so long… thinking about all of you, of Powder… of the mistakes I made. If i had just… If I hadn’t stepped away for one moment, maybe I would’ve still been here… Here with Powder…. Here with you.”

You glance at her then, just a flicker of movement, your eyes soft with something like pity—but more than that, something else that Vi doesn’t have the courage to name. She knows you see her now, not the image of the girl who left, but the one who came back. The one who is trying—trying, at least—not to destroy everything around her with the weight of her mistakes.

Vi’s voice breaks the silence again, this time with something raw in it, something almost painful. She shifts slightly, her hand twitching by her side, wanting to reach out but holding herself back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was in there,” she says quietly, her eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. “The thought of you… It helped get through most of my nights. I tried to dream of you... tried to imagine what you were doing, where you were… how you’ve grown... how much prettier you probably got. I kept telling myself, ’Maybe when I get out, maybe when I find a way out, I’ll find you again.’”

She stops, her gaze falling to the ground between you both as if ashamed to even say it aloud, as if admitting the depth of her thoughts all these years will somehow make them real. But it’s there, the longing she’s buried in the back of her mind, too painful to confront but too strong to ignore.

Vi continues, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I wondered if you thought of me, if you looked for me. If you still cared… if I even mattered to you anymore.”

You stay silent as she speaks, your chest tight with something you can’t explain. The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, like a wound reopened, and yet there’s something strangely soothing about them, too. The fact that Vi—after everything, after all this time—had thought of you… It almost doesn’t seem real.

But you say nothing, your gaze fixed ahead, unable to meet her eyes. You wonder if it’s better this way. If silence is all you have left to offer her now. Maybe it’s easier to listen than to speak, to keep everything bottled up inside where it won’t spill over and make a mess of things.

Vi takes a deep breath, her eyes shifting between the two of you, silently asking for something, anything that might make her feel less alone in this moment. But you don’t give her the answer she’s hoping for.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The wind brushes past you, making the leaves rustle in the trees around the hideout. Below is quiet, almost peaceful, and the sound of distant voices and music fades into the background.

Vi watches you carefully, her eyes searching for something in yours, but she doesn’t push. She knows better than that. She knows that the years have changed you, just as much as they’ve changed her. She knows she can’t expect you to just forget everything, to instantly trust her again. But she hopes, more than anything, that there’s still something left between you both, something that could grow again.

“I saw you with her,” you say. “Ekko said her name is Caitlyn.”

Vi’s eyes widen at the mention of Caitlyn, her heart stopping for just a moment. The words seem to hang in the air between you both, heavy and charged. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first, as if the truth of its too much to swallow.

You feel her hesitation, the way she tenses, and it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for. It feels like a sharp, cold pang in your chest. There’s a rawness in your voice that you didn’t even realize was there.

The way you say it feels like it cuts through the silence between you both. Vi looks at you then, eyes wide, searching, but she doesn’t speak. She knows she owes you an answer, but what answer could she give you? How could she explain everything that’s happened in the time between your separation and now?

After what feels like an eternity, Vi swallows hard, her throat tight. She looks away, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“It’s not what you think,” she says softly, almost too quietly, the words coming out slow and hesitant. “I… I didn’t want it. She was just… trying to comfort me.”

Vi’s mind drifts back to Caitlyn, and she can’t help but sigh. She thinks Caitlyn’s a good person—for someone from topside. There’s a softness to her, a kindness that reminds Vi of the people she used to know back when things were simpler, when she wasn’t caught between the rubble of the Lanes and the ghosts of her past. But despite Caitlyn’s goodness, Vi knows one thing, something deep in her heart that she can’t escape: no one could ever be you.

No one could replace you. The girl she grew up with, the girl she used to dream about, the girl who haunted her thoughts long after she had fallen asleep. Vi’s chest tightens at the thought. The kiss with Caitlyn, the one you saw—it’s nothing more than a hollow moment, something that never should’ve happened. She wanted it to be you.

Vi shudders slightly. The kiss, the way Caitlyn’s lips felt against hers, it was nothing like the memories of you. Nothing like the way your hand used to fit in hers, how your laugh could fill a room with warmth, how you made her feel like she was worth something. Caitlyn could never make her feel the same way you made me feel, could never replace the way you made her feel alive, like everything in her life had a purpose.

“I couldn’t…” Vi murmurs to herself quietly. “I couldn’t feel that for anyone except you.”

Her hand slowly reaches out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against yours. Her touch is gentle, careful, despite the roughness of her calloused palms, worn from years of fighting, of surviving. She holds your hand like she’s afraid you’ll slip away, like if she lets go, you’ll disappear, and she’ll be left with nothing but the echoes of a time she can never get back.

Your eyes instinctively shift to your hands, the same hands you once held as children. You remember how easy it was, how natural it felt when you were younger, sitting side by side in the dirt or on the roof of the Last Drop, fingers intertwined like nothing could ever pull you apart. Back then, it felt like the world was small, and nothing could hurt you as long as you were together.

But now—now, everything has changed.

Her fingers curl around yours, and the warmth of her touch sends a wave of memories flooding back—soft laughter, secret glances, the way her eyes would linger on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You blink, trying to keep the rush of emotions in check, but it’s hard when every inch of you feels like it’s trembling.

Vi’s eyes flicker to the ground below for a moment, her cheeks suddenly flushed, the soft red hue creeping up to her ears. It was that same familiar blush that’d show during the times she’d gift you a tiny present from those adventurous jobs she was in. She’s so close now, you can hear her breath hitch slightly as if she’s gathering the courage to speak words that she’s kept locked away for far too long.

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said finally. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

The words tumble from her mouth, quiet and unsteady, but every one of them feels like it’s been etched into her soul for years. She looks up at you, the faint redness still coloring her face as she holds your hand.

“I’d really like to make for the time I lost with you.”

The noise from the jukebox below, faint music playing through the speakers, the distant chatter of the Firelights—it all fades away, drowned out by the thundering silence between you both. You stare at her, your heart racing, a million thoughts running through your mind, but none of them can fully process the weight of what she’s just said. You feel the tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You just stare at her—really look at her—like you haven’t in years.

Vi’s ears are bright red now, her gaze flicking away nervously. She’s never been good with things like this, always hiding behind her strength, her toughness.

And now, it’s all laid out in front of you.

She’s always loved you.

You swallow hard, your hand squeezing hers as you finally manage to find your voice, even though it feels as if it’s been taken from you for so long. You’re not sure if you want to speak, if you’re ready to speak, but it doesn’t matter.

A single tear slips down your cheek, catching in the moonlight that spills across the roof. You huff, your breath shaky, and quickly turn your head, trying to wipe it away before Vi can see.

But you’re not quick enough.

Vi’s blue eyes are already on you, her gaze soft, understanding, and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart ache even more. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as she holds your hand tighter.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like the beginning of something, something you both need but are too afraid to admit.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmur, your voice unsteady as you try to hide the way your chest tightens.

You shake your head, still unable to fully meet her gaze, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The sting of the tear on your cheek fades as you try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it’s useless.

Vi’s lips twitch, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’s always known how to make you smile, even when everything else around you seemed to be falling apart. Now, it’s the same thing. She’s still that person who knows how to make your heart feel lighter, even in times like this.

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, almost teasing, but there’s no mockery in it, only the acceptance of your words—because she’s heard them before. She’s known, deep down, that you always thought she was an idiot, that she was reckless, that she made mistakes.

But none of that mattered.

She’s always loved you. And you’ve always known it, even if you didn’t want to admit it at first.

She scoots closer to you, the space between you shrinking as she leans in, her body warm against yours. You can feel the weight of her presence beside you, the soft strength that always made you feel safe. Her hand tightens around yours, pulling it into her lap, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as if you can’t bear to look at her yet.

But her touch reminds you of who you were before everything fell apart, before the years, the distance, and the pain.

“I know,” she repeats softly, her smile growing. She brings your hand up to her lips, softly pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, the red still staining her ears as she nudges you with her shoulder.

“But I’m your idiot.”

And you want to laugh, want to smile and tease her like you used to, but instead, you just sit there. Just breathe.

Vi is here. She’s real. And she’s never stopped loving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to love her back the way she’s always wanted you to.

ty for reading! | masterlist

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird: Christmas Eve Special (Thomas ShelbyxOCY/N)

(GIF ain't mine > I forgor ack pls dm me if it's yours)

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SCENE MADE ME WANNA EXPLODE XD

Part One - Part Two

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨Pure fluff, Lil Angst, No Grace, Smut >:D [pnv (wrap it before you tap it), slight choking, bottom!dom Tommy, switch!dom reader, overstimulation(m&f)] Happy Ending ^^ (cuz I've had enough bad endings irl TvT)✨

🐧Hoe Hoe Hoe all of us HAHAHAHAHAHHA XD. I hope ya'll getting laid this Christmas Eve cuz, I aint X"D. Anyways you do not need to read part one... this can be just a one-shot itself, but fair warning you might not understand who our OCY/N is so... yeah... go read part one XD Tried to make it as short as possible since it's just a special but seemingly failed :"D but ey... Merry Christmas ^^!!!🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.2k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

It has been more than a week since your last encounter with the owner of Arrow House, Thomas. Your first kiss with him last December 15th was something that kept you giddy to work as soon as the morning sun rose and before Miss Florence could knock at your door to wake you up, your room was already empty.

You went with your usual routine of sweeping off dust on paintings and sculptures, careful not to break or tear anything. This wasn't the first house you became a personal maid for someone, you've basically worked as a royal made once before getting kicked out by the head maid for "Eloping" with her man (which you didn't. The man was just accusing you because you said no to all his advances, which ended up with you on the whore house with 'Missus'). Humming as you cleaned and twirled, Miss Florence saw you and turned away with a smile.

-----

However, as fast as you were giddy that day, it was also punched right out you when you were called to attend to one of Thomas's whores.

"Ah! Y/N?" She slutterly (is that even a word??? XD) mentioned your name as she walked around you with the same dark coat Thomas had placed upon your shoulders to keep you warm yesterday.

"Yes." you muttered between gritted teeth, trying not to yank the coat away from her filthy body.

"Mmm... Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name in our session." She said with great despise. That information had your body in tingles. 'My name? in sex? in a normal convo? with another woman?' this came up to mind as the whore walked away after wafting her hair and up the stairs to Thomas's room, possibly to regain his favours to her.

Questions bursts out your mind to the thought that was left behind. "...Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name..." but why?

-----

After that day, you have never seen Thomas again in Arrow House. Miss Florence said he was on a business trip somewhere and would not be back till Christmas. That gave you time to think and to reflect on the kiss. AND to that whores last comment on their 'sessions'. Weird enough you thought that maybe she just heard it wrong, if not wrong then... why?

That had your mind busy for the rest of the week. Although with all the chores in hand, it made you forget Thomas easily. Suddenly remembering that the audition to the Garrison bar was going to be held on Christmas Eve. You had asked Miss Florence to be excused for that day, which she allowed.

-----

"Y/N!" a familiar voice called out to you through the swirling snow. You turned and saw ‘Missus,’ bundled in her thick, patched-up coat, her breath visible in the cold air as she waved enthusiastically.

“Missus,” you greeted her with a smile, tugging your own coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. Despite the chill in the air, her warmth was contagious.

“Still don’t know why you’re wastin’ that voice of yours on dusty houses. Tonight’s your chance, love. Show ‘em what you’re made of!” she declared, stepping closer. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the drink she’d likely had before venturing out, you couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you teased lightly, though you were secretly glad to have her there.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”

The two of you entered the Garrison, the warmth and chaos of the pub hitting you like a wave. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, and the smell of ale lingered heavily. At the center of it all was a rather tone-deaf singer, standing on the makeshift stage, belting out a rowdy tune. Her pitch was so off that even the drunkest men in the room winced occasionally.

The pub owner, Harry, stood near the bar, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough! Off you go!” he barked, waving her down.

The woman staggered off, her cheeks burning as the crowd erupted in laughter and went back to their conversations. Harry rubbed his temple, muttering to himself as he reached for another pint.

Missus nudged you forward with her elbow. “Go on, love.”

You hesitated, your nerves getting the better of you, but Missus had no patience for second-guessing. She marched you straight to Harry. “Oy, Harry!”

The man turned, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“She’s here for the audition,” Missus announced proudly, gesturing to you like you were already a star.

Harry raised a skeptical brow, his eyes raking over you lazily. “You sing, do ya?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firmer than you felt inside.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a shrug. “You lot are all bloody awful anyway. The men are drunk enough, so go ahead—ruin my ears like the rest of ‘em.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the stage.

Before you could argue or even steady your nerves, Missus grabbed your arm and practically dragged you toward the stage. “That’s my girl!” she shouted, her voice echoing over the clamor of the pub. She plopped herself down at a table near the front, pint in hand, cheering you on with the enthusiasm of ten people.

You stood on the small stage, feeling the weight of every eye in the room—except for the ones you wanted most. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Thomas and his brothers seated in the far-right corner, engrossed in their own conversation. Thomas was leaning back in his chair, cigarette in hand, his expression unreadable. His brothers were equally disinterested, laughing at some joke you couldn’t hear over the din.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to the piano and sat, your hands trembling slightly as you placed it on the notes. The room began to quiet down, curious about the new face on stage.

>>>>MOOSIC<<<<

As the first notes of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” left the piano chords, the pub seemed to hold its breath. As you started to sing though that's when everyone was in awe. The soft, ethereal melody floated through the room, starkly different from the raucous atmosphere moments ago.

"It came upon the midnight clear,

that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth

to touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, good will to men,

from heaven's all-gracious King."

The world in solemn stillness lay,

to hear the angels sing."

You glanced around as you sang. Some of the patrons were swaying gently, their mugs forgotten for a moment. Harry stood behind the bar, his usual gruffness replaced with a look of mild surprise. Missus was, of course, beaming at you, her pint raised high in salute.

And then your gaze landed on Thomas. He was no longer leaning back in his chair, his cigarette halfway to his lips, forgotten. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the pub had melted away.

His brothers seemed to notice his sudden silence, exchanging glances before following his gaze to the stage. But Thomas didn’t move. He simply watched, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill through you as you hit the chorus:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

from Heaven’s all-gracious King..."

Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as the room continued to listen in hushed awe.

"Still through the cloven skies they come

with peaceful wings unfurled,

and still their heavenly music floats

o'er all the weary world;"

Your voice rang clear and steady now, weaving through the smoky air like a hymn in a sacred hall. The clamor of the pub had ceased entirely, save for the occasional clink of a glass or the creak of a chair as someone shifted to get a better view.

"Above its sad and lowly plains,

they bend on hovering wing,

and ever o'er its Babel sounds

the blessed angels sing."

Your eyes swept across the room as the words spilled effortlessly from your lips, each note carrying a haunting beauty. The drunkards, their mugs poised mid-air, watched you with wide eyes. Missus raised her pint higher, tears glinting in her eyes as she mouthed along with the words, clearly as proud as any mother watching her child’s first recital.

But it was Thomas’s gaze that kept pulling you back. He was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your heart falter mid-note. His brothers were as amused as Thomas was, their quiet singing along going unnoticed by him as he remained transfixed.

The pub faded into a blur around you, and for a moment, it was just you and him. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer, something rare. It made you feel both seen and exposed, like he was peeling back every layer of your soul with just a look.

You closed your eyes, letting the final verses of the carol guide you.

"For lo! the days are hastening on,

by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years

comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth

its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song

which now the angels sing."

The last note hung in the air, delicate and trembling, before dissolving into the stillness.

The room erupted in applause, shattering the quiet spell you’d cast. Missus was on her feet, cheering loud enough to make up for anyone who wasn’t clapping. Harry nodded approvingly from the bar, a rare grin on his face.

And then there was Thomas. He didn’t clap, didn’t cheer, but his eyes said enough. There was something unspoken there, something electric that left you breathless as you stepped off the stage.

Missus grabbed you the moment your feet touched the floor, pulling you into a bear hug. “That’s my girl!” she hollered, spinning you around.

-----

As the noise swelled back into the room and the drunken revelry resumed, you glanced toward the far-right corner one last time. Thomas was no longer were he was, you looked around to see his brothers were eyeing you. John was grinning from ear to ear as he tipped his hat to you, you gestured with a soft smile. Arthur, visibly high from whatever he took, winked at you, making your soft smile widen a bit at the gesture as you shook your head continuing your drink with missus.

"Got a voice young lady, you ain't no whore like missus here ain't you?" Harry asked as he passed you your glass of water (you don't drink, taking care of your voice).

"No sir," you said in a hushed tone as missus and Harry glared knives at each other, clearly having a mental fight.

"Alright! you got the gig, every Saturday at noon. Don't be late." he huffed as he tended to other customers on the pub.

You beamed as you silently squealed with Missus. You now had enough jobs to be able to earn and go for an adventure; now it's just time to earn until-

Your reverie was cut short when a sudden familiar voice lingered behind you.

“Looking for me, darling?” His voice carried that familiar gruffness, the edges softened by something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned, startled but delighted. “Thomas,” you breathed, standing instinctively. His sharp blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the entire pub seemed to dissolve around you.

“You’ve got a voice, Y/N,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “Had the whole pub hanging on your every note. Even Arthur stopped his nonsense to listen.”

A faint blush crept up your neck at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze falling briefly to the floor.

“I mean it,” he pressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. If I’d known, I’d have dragged you to sing long ago.”

You smiled shyly but then felt the weight of a lingering question pull you back. Gathering your courage, you glanced up at him. “Thomas... about something the other day…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out before your nerves could catch you. “That woman. Back at the Arrow House. She said you... mentioned my name. During her... visit.”

For the first time, you saw Thomas falter. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat, glancing away. “Ah, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well?” you prompted, your heart pounding.

He sighed, cursing himself softly before meeting your gaze again. “I did,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “She said somethin’ about loyalty or... some nonsense, and your name just... slipped out.”

“Slipped out?” you repeated, your brows arching.

“Can’t help what’s on my mind, love,” he said with a sheepish grin. “After our kiss in the kitchen that night I couldn't stop thinking about you, I couldn't possibly have you on your knees all of a sudden," he paused as he huffed another batch of his cigar. "You-your were a lady when I first saw you. Not a personal maid, so I fell for your soul and well voice now too and it’s going to be bloody distracting now that I have these in mind.”

He paused yet again, seemingly trying to recall all his thoughts, which were now visibly in jumbles. "I like to get to know you," he said as he stubbed his cigar dead on the ashtray. "It seemed like I've known you for years when we had just met that very day, and I won't be able to stop thinking about you now."

Your cheeks burned at his confession, and you averted your eyes, a small, flustered laugh escaping your lips. “Well, I... I suppose I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you confessed, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pub.

His grin widened, the rare softness in his expression making your heart stutter. “Then we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Let me make it right. Take you out. Like a real lady.”

Before you could answer, Missus yanked you back by the arm, her eyes narrowed. “Not so fast, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at Thomas. “I’m takin’ her home, since you two might start shagging when she goes back to Arrow House today.”

“Missus!" shocked by her boldness but not surprised as she was already dragging you toward the door.

“Tomorrow, then!” Thomas called after you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

-----(Present Day, December 25th)

The warmth of the fireplace cast a golden glow over the living room as your daughter sat cross-legged on the floor by the Christmas tree, her curious eyes fixed on you. “But Mommy! Missus says she did no such thing!” she exclaimed, giggling.

You shot a playful glare at Missus, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair by the fire, sipping her tea. “Oh, did she now?” you teased, shaking your head.

Missus laughed, her graying hair framing her face. “Don’t listen to her, love. I was just keeping your mother out of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter until a familiar voice interrupted. “Baby, Daddy needs Mommy for a while, yeah? Why don't you go and play with Missus for a while.” Thomas said, stepping into the room.

Your daughter lit up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy!” she chirped, running over to Missus with her toys in hand.

Thomas extended a hand to you, his expression as unreadable as ever but his eyes warm. As soon as you were in the hallway, he leaned closer. “What were you tellin’ her?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Just the story of how we met. You know, the softer version.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Softer version, eh? Did you leave out the bit where I killed Luca Changretta for your hand?”

A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. “No, it’s a bit too brutal for a five-year-old, my dear Tommy.”

He smirked, his hands sliding over yours. “In time, then,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “But for now…”

Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly toward the stairs.

“Thomas!” you squealed, laughing loudly as you clung to him.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, his grin widening as he carried you up, your laughter echoing through the house.

-----(Thomas's POV)

Thomas scooped you into his arms, holding you close as though you were the most precious thing in his world. He started up the stairs, his steps steady yet unhurried.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Oh, I do. You’re my princess tonight—and every night.”

Your cheeks flushed as you playfully swatted his shoulder. “You’re so cheesy, Thomas.”

“Only for you,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead.

As he entered the room, he nudged the door shut with his foot and gently placed you on the bed. The golden glow of the fairy lights illuminated your face, making you look ethereal. He slowly placed you down onto your shared bed and paused, taking you in as if committing the moment to memory.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your lips curling into a soft smile.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of vulnerability. “You make me feel that way,” you murmured.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “That’s because it’s true,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

He began to trail kisses along your cheeks and down your neck, his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me if I ever do too much,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and comforting.

“You could never do too much,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “I trust you.”

His lips curved into a smile against your neck. “I’ll make sure you never regret that,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with love.

As your connection deepened, you let out a soft laugh. “You’re so gentle, Thomas. It’s like you’re afraid I’ll break.”

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, his voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “I just want you to know how much I adore you—every part of you.”

As he said those words, his lips were now down to yours. Tickling your lower abdomen with soft kisses and slowly licking your clit from top to the bottom, making you hiss in pleasure.

He couldn't get over the taste of you, finer than the whisky he drinks and the cigar he smokes. He can forget Ophium, when you are one addicting woman.

"Fuck... I love you Y/N" He mutters as he laps his wet tongue through your slit and holds your hips as you were twitching heavy. His thumb on your clit drawing circles slowly and at rhythm to his tongue.

When he hears you scream his name like a prayer his pants suddenly felt tight and he couldn't let it wait any longer, he had to make you cum on his mouth now or never.

"Cum for me baby. Please... Oh God Please let me taste you" as he enters his tongue in you and his nose nuzzled on your clit and fingers twisting your nipples, fast.

"Th-Thomas! I-I'm Ah!" and release you did. However that didn't stop him and he kept his ministering to you until you could feel that satisfying release on the depths of your stomach.

"Thomas! I... I might make a mess..." You plead him as you trashed on his grasp without avail for his biceps were locked on your hips and legs. "Then make a mess. I'd love to see you make a mess for me, love"

And you squirted on his mouth. As he slowly pulls himself away and smirks looking at your majestic image, "Fuck, love you look gorgeous".

He was about to come back down and devour you once more but you won't let that happen this Christmas day. So, when you took control, he couldn’t help but smile up at you as your fingers traced the sharp angles of his face. “You know, I don’t think I say this enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed up at you, completely captivated.

“I love you,” you said simply, your words carrying the weight of your feelings.

His eyes softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “You don’t have to say it all the time. I feel it every moment I’m with you.”

When you finally lay side by side, your breaths still mingling, Thomas turned to you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my everything, you know that?” he said softly.

You smiled, your eyes glistening. “You’re mine, too,” you replied.

He chuckled, his voice warm and low. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas,” you whispered back, as you kissed him softly on his lips.

Thomas groaned, a low sound of pleasure, as you shifted your position, straddling him. Inserting his cock to yours, His hands instinctively found your waist, holding you steady as you began to move. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and adoration.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he murmured, his voice strained yet teasing, as his hands tightened slightly on your hips, guiding your rhythm.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I think you like it this way.”

A chuckle escaped him, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you continued. His head fell back against the pillow, exposing his neck as he surrendered entirely to you. Your fingers slid to his jaw, tilting his face back toward you.

“Look at me,” you said softly, your voice firm but full of affection.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours as your hand moved to his throat. You applied the slightest pressure, watching as his breath hitched and his gaze darkened.

“Is this okay?” you asked, pausing briefly to ensure he was comfortable.

Thomas’s hands slid up your sides, his grip reassuring. “Perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

You continued, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment as much as he was. His hands roamed your body, occasionally tightening as he got closer to the edge.

“I’m not going to last,” he murmured, his voice strained.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back, baby.”

Moments later, the tension in his body gave way, and he groaned your name, his voice heavy with release. You followed shortly after, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

Breathless, you collapsed onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. Neither of you spoke for a while, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths mingling together.

Thomas finally broke the silence, his voice soft and full of contentment. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy patterns on his skin. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

----

🐧Hopefully I ended that well :"D aha... mhen :"D I just wanted it to be cute and all since its christmas aha~ so merry christmas everyone ^^ have a happy holiday ^^🐧

Tags:

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts - @stardustandor - @tommyshelbysgoodgirl - @courtney5599 - @omgsuperstarg

- @exploringmycosmicsoul - @europixie - @josephine-02 - @n1ghtw1ngslvr - @angelicbabydolll -

@seraphine09 -

@dollsndesires @fabolily @nixsarson @bluerrie @lunxrstellx

@star01007 @floweradroble1123 @7seven-wonders

@scarlettlight06

@turkishgirlslife @jill7373883 @cillianinlove @cilly-murphy @sleepysnoofy

@tumbrburgerking712801 @yourstrulylve

@lvrsw0rld @lvrsworld @randomnamers @kimmifischersworld @sl-newsie

@shizpostluver @hagarsays @shannieshoo

@mysteriouslysweetmagazine @the-ruler-of-death @cillianmurphysdimples @hippiedippiekitty

@sl-newsie - @hippiedippiekitty - @tumbrburgerking712801 - @candlesenthusiast - @floweradroble1123

@dragonsneversharetheirtreasure - @wonderlanddreamer - @rogers060967 - @thomasfell -

@captainstank01 - @imdoingbetternow -

@dodicesimamas -

@shelbywhiterose - @savexsangster -

@stairwayto--hell

@feasibilities - @valeeeez -

@mythicalcowboyatheart

- @mistyorchid -

@luluartpop - @dr-helia2

@remembering-angels - @zanytalecherryblossom-blog -

- @thebunnybabyblog -

@shannieshoo - @athenakeene - @melissaspersonalblog - @jonathancarneswifey - @that-one-gothic-murder-of-crows

@pretty-little-sl4t - @random-weirdo - @asmutwriter - @sisterkait

@thebunnybabyblog - @tabbilee

@sleepysnoofy - @giulssssss - @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure - @wakasaswifee

Part One - Part Two

[syndrossi]

Thinking about Restoration AU (again). What POV would you like to write/or are you just interested in? Well, besides Cersei :D Even for the time of the first book, she can't be called sane. Maybe Jamie? Like you said, in the first book he wasn't in the mood for redemption, but here he meets the ghost of the man he was loyal to and whom he feels he has failed (I tend to think that Rhaegar just didn't want to take a 16 year old boy to battle, so he gave him an important "assignment").

Or maybe Robert's POV during the meeting with the twins? We know that Ned is mentally praying at this time, while Robert may not remember Rhaegar's facial features and his reaction is: ho ho our noble Ned is just a man too, we're not so different.

Or Catelyn? I don't share the fandom's hatred of her, but it would be very interesting to see her thoughts, especially how she tries to recreate the image of a "rival" to Rhaegar: his looks, charming singing, soft demeanor.

Personally, I'm probably most interested in seeing Darmon and Daenerys' POV. With Darmon, it will be both painful and fun - painful because he finds himself in a world where his children aren't around him, dragons are extinct, and the Targaryens have fallen (the story of Rhaegar's death might cause a sudden painful flashback). But watching him terrorize first the people of the valley and then Volantis, who have no idea where the hell the dragon came from or what children this madman is talking about (they're already willing to give him their children just to get rid of him) would be fun.

And for Daenerys I'm just happy, she'll probably be a little scared of Darmon at first (he's a little crazy during their first meeting) but then she'll appreciate him: the fact that there's finally an older family member protecting her from Viserys, and his dragon, and the way he treats her gently (she'll 100% remind Daemon of Rhaegar, only a girl). Or Viserys? In terms of insanity it should be something close to Cersei in the last few books.

Would love to see your thoughts. By the way, have you decided whose POV will be next?

Hmm, it's less for me about POVs and more about certain story events, other than the aforementioned Cersei POV. Like, the Robert meeting the twins is an obvious one, but I don't think I'll write Robert's POV. For that, I'm leaning toward Ned's, especially because he'll get to see little!Jon/Willam staring absolute daggers at Robert, both as in the I HATE YOU sense and the DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY LITTLE BROTHER-DAD sense, but Ned will likely interpret it as "you killed our older brother! 😡" Whereas Rhaegar/Raymar is deer-in-headlights "if I don't move he won't see me" mode.

(Oh, or could THAT be our first Cersei POV? Ehh, I still think Ned, but I can absolutely see Cersei being huffy about Robert going to greet Ned's bastards after he meetings the trueborn ones, viewing it as him rubbing his adultery in her fave, and then she catches a glimpse of Rhaegar and goes why hello yes target acquired ned stark's bastards you say?

Goodness, I hadn't thought about Rhaegar becoming the symbol of the boys' mother to Cat, but he probably would, wouldn't he? Jon and Willam remind her enough of Ned, but she's staring at this dainty-looking child with the long braid, imagining the woman's silver-blond hair and beautiful eyes and quiet demeanor. Did she sing? Is that what drew Ned to her?

Okay, I may have to steal the "Volantis just starts flinging Valyrian-looking children at Daemon in a bid to appease him" bit for Daemon's reign of terror across Essos. 😂 They just round up every child that looks the least bit like him, and even throw in some dark-haired, grey-eyed ones like the other child he mentioned. Daemon is all "wtf am I supposed to do with these?" and they're all "feed them to your dragon if they aren't what you want, please just leave us alone."

I think Dany and Daemon's first meeting will definitely be a Dany POV, so I suppose that's one I'm looking forward to! I still haven't decided the exact timing there. Canonically per the book, her wedding to Drogo has already occurred by now, so either I shift the time so that Daemon can dramatically prevent it, or he rocks up on the Dothraki and starts burning until they give him his kin.

I have not yet decided which POV is next, though that's up after Knight of Stars pt2. (Assuming I don't get sucked into the "Rhaella gets summerhalled" AU I'm very tempted to write first. And we still need the wintery hot springs prompt fill! Lots to write this week.)

[islandofthedollz]

❤︎Jimmy’s voicemail ❤︎

⁠❥TW implied Rape, blood, implied blackmail

❥ You’re Ex boyfriend Jimmy leaves you voice mail.

“Hey (Y/N). Thought I’d call you. This is probably the, what? Probably the 16th voicemail I’ve left you.”

“I know that one time you answered… and you said… what’d you say? You said that you’d call the police or something? File a restraining order? One of those. I don’t really remember. My memory has been weird these days, maybe it’s the alcohol, but um… I just wanna tell you some things.

I wished you would’ve just picked up the phone… the last time I heard your voice I was hard for hours. I’m gonna have to start recording your voice now. It’s embarrassing, but I’m having trouble getting it up without you.”

“Did you get the poem I sent you it reminded me of you? I’m sure you have, I mean, you’re fucking obsessed with me like I’m of you. I saw a poetry book… I saw it in your apartment that time I fucked you. I know you try to pretend like you’re not obsessed but trust me, I know. Fuck, you’re the prettiest girl there is.”

“My favorite line of the entire thing is when I talk about- when I talk about taking your heart out and ripping my chest open and putting your heart inside me…”

“If you had no heart, you wouldn’t be able to love at anyone else, would you? You’d stop making me so fucking jealous. You love making me jealous, don’t you? You..like playing hard to get. You like it when I’m jealous, want me to fuck you when I’m jealous. You’d like that wouldn’t you?

Fucking you with my cock until you’re crying? Little crybaby, acting like she doesn’t want to, like she doesn't want it.”

“I’m gonna get you one day, you know… one day. I’ll cut your fingers open and collect your blood… wear it around my neck and you’ll wear mine so everyone knows you’re mine. You’re already mine, just no one seems to know it yet. It pisses me off… I want you so fucking bad, baby.

You have no clue. I think about you all the time; all my poems are about you, you know I read them to curly he says say it’s nice that I found another hobby that isn’t weightlifting don’t you agree?”

“you know my favorite one is… where I wrote about how I want to hold your hand and kiss you. About how I just want to be with you, you know? But, um, the dirty ones are especially about you.”

Jimmy chuckles there’s a pause he sighs.

“Listen, I don’t really know what I did for this kind of treatment, babe. I’m starting to get a bit impatient. You don’t respond to my messages, my calls… you’re starting to hurt my feelings. Do you realize how that I die a little bit on the inside when you don’t call me back?”

“But you just love to play hard to get… fucking ignoring me. Hell, I even asked you out and you said no. Do you… do you realize my love for you? Do you realize who the fuck you said no to?

I love you so much it hurts I don’t care who gets in the way of out love. No one is gonna separate us. I’m always watching you. You need me as much as I need you. I know you want me, you’re just teasing me.”

“But you… you know I love it when you tease. Told you that myself, huh? All those times I teased my cock with your cunt… you liked it too, I remember. Yeah, you may have been drunk but you were moaning like a whore.

They say even in your drunkest state you’re honest. if You were moaning, you came so many times, remember? Came all over my cock. You said- you said in your little voice ah, Jimmy , harder! Remember?”

“I was a good fuck wasn’t I? You were saying I was a bit rough and you mentioned how you thought you were bleeding. I mean, if that’s what you’re into. I don’t mind a kinky girl.

I’d prefer one, actually. Maybe that’s why I love you so much we’re so alike. You wanna be my slut, do you? Hm…”

“It would be a shame if your family found out… they’d probably never talk to you. All your dirty little secrets brought to light, and yeah, I know you have secrets. If you don’t want those to come out, you better fucking call me back. You have my number.

[rebelliousstories]

Online Shopping

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,779

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: Trapped in his own home, there’s very little that he can do to express himself, or show that expression to anyone else. But Sergeant Barnes ain’t no quitter; he just has to navigate a new world.

Consider Donating: Here

Going out to a physical store during the holidays was a but too much for Bucky right now. Sure, he could go into high stakes, life-threatening missions with no problem. Dealing with crazy crowds of angry shoppers trying to get their last minute gifts? Absolutely not.

However, he had yet to find the perfect gift for a certain someone. This one woman that went to the same bar that he frequented that he actually had a lot in common with. Read the same type of books, enjoyed similar music; even had the same affinity for obscure, random, useless facts.

So here Bucky was, days before Christmas, struggling to find the gift he wanted to give her without leaving the house. He was supposed to meet her at the bar Christmas Eve to spend some time together, and he was hoping to give her a present then. However, there was no way he was going to leave his apartment to go shopping.

That is, until James remembered something Sam had mentioned recently. There was shopping online. It was a brilliant idea, with just one small problem; he had no idea how it worked. Begrudgingly, Bucky tried to talk himself into contacting his partner. He knew that Sam would never let him live this down.

Forcing himself to pick up the phone, Barnes reluctantly dialed up the number. Part of him hoped that he wouldn’t pick up as they line just kept ringing and ringing and ri-

“Bucky, what’s up man?” Sam answered with a cheerful tone.

“Hey, Sam. I, um…” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes as he talked himself into actually speak. “I need your help with something.”

“Sure, man. Whatcha need? Hold on, one sec.” There was some shuffling on the other end of the line before Sam came back on. The sound of children laughing, and people chattering came through. “Alright. What’s up?”

“Could you help me shop online?” Bucky asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come again?”

“I-I need to buy something and I don’t wanna go into stores right now.” He tried explaining as he paced around his apartment.

“Bucky, are you sure there isn’t someone else who could help you out? I’m on the opposite end of the country right now, man. What about that chick you’ve been talking about? The one from the bar.” Sam stared out into the vast open waters from the dock of his family home.

“Well, um… that’s who I’m getting the thing for. I kinda don’t want her knowing.” Scratching the back of his head, Bucky felt uncomfortable as he had been forced to say it aloud.

“Ooo, you sly dog, man!” Sam cheered. “Whatcha wanna get her?”

Now, there was a blush creeping up his neck from the man’s words. “A set of books.”

“Okay, now we’re working with something. You probably don’t have amazon set up yet so, can you find this set online? Like the Barnes and Nobles or Books-A-Million websites?” Wilson instructed, fully getting on board with this idea.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on.” Behind the phone, Sam could hear Bucky moving through his apartment to sit at his computer. Clacking keys, and mumbling were the only indicators that any progress was being made.

“Okay, okay. I found it on Books-A-Million. Add to cart, right?”

“Yep. See you got it man. Now, when you hit check out, you have the option of choosing whether or not to ship it or pick it up in store.” Sam continued to explain, trying to get his friend through this.

“Which do I pick?” Bucky was so confused staring at the computer.

“Whichever will get the item there faster and on time.”

“Will it say that somewhere?”

“Can you read the damn page?” Sam sighed, now, rolling his eyes.

Bucky snorted through his nose in contempt. “Alright, it says it can be at my apartment by tomorrow. What do I do now?”

“Click checkout and put in your card info.”

Some more clicking and typing occurred before James came back to the phone. “I think it’s done. Listen, um thanks Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, man,” Sam started, “I just expect to be invited to the wedding.”

“Ha ha. Bye, Sam.” The phone call was disconnected without another chance for a reply. Leaning back in the desk chair, Bucky was fiddling with his hands as he thought about what he was going to do with wrapping.

He was not the best at presents, even back in his younger days. His sister or mom would always wrap presents for him, while he could, at best, put something in a pretty bag. Bucky was not even sure if he had wrapping paper around his apartment.

Which meant he needed to go get something to make it pretty before giving it to her. Which meant having to go out into the crowds of shoppers. A memory of seeing some wrapping paper at the bodega on the corner popped into his head. Maybe James could skip the lines and crowds that made him feel anxious.

Two nights later, Bucky was standing outside of the bar that they were supposed to meet at. In his hands, a gift bag heavy with the weight of books rested. The cold December air nipped at his cheeks, and made his breath appear in front of him, but he could not just walk in just yet. He was still trying to work up the nerve to go in and meet her. This night could be the end of their friendship in one way or another if he did not play it right.

Exhaling sharply, he pushed open the door. Scanning the room, Bucky smiled as he saw her happily sitting with a few drinks in front of her at a booth. Walking up, he opened his arms just in time for her to launch herself into them.

“Bucky! I missed you. Come on, I got the first round.” She kept a beaming grin as she hugged, and led the man over to his booth.

“Hey, missed you too. Thank you.” Sliding in, he set the gift bag on the seat as he sat down. Barnes clinked his bottle against hers and took a sip.

“So what have you been up to?” And thus began their conversation that would branch off into an evening together.

He loved hearing her talk. Even if she read the dictionary, Bucky could just listen to her forever. There was something calming about it. His mind was often flooded with too many voices, too many memories; it was just too active. This was the kind of voice that he could relax to. It gave him a sense of calm he could not replicate anywhere else.

“Oh,” her voice broke him from his trance. “Before I forget, here you go.”

A gift bag was set on the table, and pushed across to him. Bucky, with wide eyes, gently grasped the handles of the bag, and pulled it closer to him.

“What is it?” He whispered, eyes tracing over the decorative paper coming from the top.

“A bomb.” Her voice was deadpan, as was her expression. Leveling her with a similar look, Bucky chuckled when he saw her beaming now.

“Open it, silly.” At her encouragement, James delicately tore into the bag. Below the tissue paper, there was a box-like object wrapped in beautiful wrapping paper. He plucked it from the bag, and turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. Tearing a stripe through the paper, the second he saw what was inside, he became giddy.

“No. You didn’t.” Resting in his hands now, was an original 1937 copy of the Hobbit. The bindings were fresh, as if someone had recently redone the book. A distinct old book smell wafted into his nose when he opened the book. Flabbergasted, Bucky shifted his gaze between the book and the woman across from him.

“You mentioned you’d like to read it again and someone at my book club was looking to sell it. He gave me a steal because we’re friends. Said his grandfather originally owned it, and brought it with him when he moved to here from Germany.” She casually explained, shrugging and taking a swig of her drink.

“I… thank you. Truly,” Bucky reached his hands across to hold hers that was on the table, “I just- I don’t know what to say besides thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Bucky.”

“This, um-” he cleared his throat, “makes my gift a little coincidental.”

Bucky reached next to him to place the bag on the table. He sat there, with bated breath and rapt attention as she began to dive into the bag. As opposed to her gift, his was just placed inside without wrapping paper. But James at least put some pretty tissue paper on top. And yet, even without the wrapping paper on the present, she was giddily pulling the books from the bag.

“You got the entire Neon Gods set for me? Oh, Bucky…” she sighed dreamily as she held and looked over each cover and backing.

“Yeah, well. You mentioned you’d wanted to read it.” Bucky smirked, catching a glint in her eyes. He did not want to get his hopes up, but he loved that little glint.

“You’re such a sweetie. Thank you.” Getting out of her seat, she went across to his section of the booth and wrapped him in a hug. Bucky pressed his nose into her hair, enjoying the comforting feeling of her embrace.

She sat back after a moment, and looked over her books again. “I still can’t believe you got me the entire set. All I got you was a single book.”

“Hey,” he shook her lightly, “don’t do that. I love this single book. However…”

At this she perked up. “However?”

“Maybe, you’d be able to get me one more Christmas present that’s been on my wishlist,” came Bucky’s ask, albeit very hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?”

A second of utter silence passed between them. So long that Bucky was genuinely about to retract his statement, chalking it up to a joke. A very lame joke.

“I’d love to.” She muttered, dropping her eyes down to the shirt covering his chest. James breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nervous chuckles passed between the two of them as they took in the situation at hand.

“Okay, then.” Bucky threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in closer. He pressed a kiss to her hair as he basked in the triumph of the moment. Totally worth it in his book.

[vampirekiramman]

HER TREMBLING HANDS | violyn oneshot

synopsis: ever since the day vi’s sister died, her hands haven’t stopped shaking. the only thing that can steady her nerves is caitlyn. so, when she can’t stop shaking, she asks cait to hold her— and she does. of course, she does.

details: ptsd!vi x caitlyn | post-s2e9 | hurt/comfort, angst, and a little bit of fluff

content warning(s): trauma, mentions of death

word count: 1.2k words

It started with a noise, as it often did. Vi couldn’t remember exactly what caused it. Maybe she had knocked over a vase, or dropped a plate. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it hit the ground with a thud and the sound of glass shattering into a million little pieces, and that was all it took.

She felt it coming on slow after the initial shock. She bent down with a broom— Where did she get a broom?— and started sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan. Her palms had started to sweat, making it difficult to get a good grip on the wooden shaft of the broom. Her fingers kept slipping down, no matter how many times she let go and grasped it again, firmer each time. Her hands started to shake, the bits of glass she had managed to sweep into the dustpan falling back onto the floor with every tremor.

She closed her eyes and cursed, “Damn.” It was hard to force the word out of her throat. Her breath had started quickening, her chest tightening and a lump forming in her chest. She squeezed her eyes tighter and dropped the broom, clutching her chest. As it clamored to the ground with a series of bangs, that was the moment it hit her.

‘Vi, you can’t save him.’

She knew it to be true. Still, she lifted Vander’s face into the palm of her hand one last time, and sobbed.

‘Vi!’

Her sister’s scream cut across the room like a gunshot, louder in her ears, even, than the sound of Vander’s roars. He pounded on the metal platform beneath her. Boom, boom, boom. She stared up at him, bracing herself for what comes next. It never came.

There she was: Jinx, protecting Vi like how Vi had protected her their whole lives. Vi grabbed her hand as she careened off the edge of the platform, holding her like she was water slipping through her fingers. That’s what she had been the whole time, wasn’t it?

The platform creaked and groaned, Vander’s viscous growls echoing off the walls from beneath them. She felt the metal slipping, the bolts coming loose. Still, she held on.

‘Always with you, sis.’

For a moment, she swore it was Powder’s voice she heard. And then she was gone.

Vi fell to her knees and heaved. She knew she couldn’t have saved Vander. She knew that, but she just had to go to him, anyways, didn’t she? Jinx was right. She couldn’t save him. But maybe she could have saved her.

A guttural scream escaped from her then, coming from somewhere deep inside of her that she had locked away long ago. She rolled onto her back, just like she did that day, and sobbed, echoes of the sound bouncing off the walls around her.

“Vi,” a voice called— Was it Jinx? Was she finally here, ready to take Vi with her?—, then spoke, softly and closer to her ear, “Are you okay, Violet?”

There was only one person left alive that called her that. She opened her eyes and, through the sting of tears, saw Caitlyn crouched over her.

“No. No, no, no. She’s gone, Cait,” she choked out.

“I know,” Caitlyn whispered, sitting down beside her, “I know. Can you sit up? You’re laying in broken glass.”

She pulled herself off the ground and turned her head over her shoulder, shards of glass that had been crushed into tiny bits under her weight and little drops of blood covering the floor. She felt Caitlyn’s hand hovering over her back for a moment. She gave her a nod, and she felt her brushing the glass that had stuck to her body off of her with her fingertips.

Caitlyn put her arm around her shoulder, leaning on her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re here,” she murmured into Vi’s skin.

“I’m here,” Vi repeated, trying to force herself to believe the words.

She listened to the slow inhale and exhale of Caitlyn’s breathing beside her. She let her eyes bounce off of the walls of the home in Piltover she now shared with her. Framed and hung up were paintings Ekko had made of them all— Vander, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder. Even one of Jinx. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of Caitlyn’s perfume. She smelled like cherry blossoms and warm vanilla.

Slowly, she looked down at her hands, turning them over once, then twice, taking note of how her wrists creaked and her fingers trembled.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, finally. Caitlyn perked her head up to listen. “One minute, I’m cleaning up, and the next I’m back there. I can’t even sweep anymore. My hands- Look. Look at them. I can’t even hold a broom.”

She lifted both of her shaky hands up at the same time and let out a breathy laugh that served only to mask a broken sob. Caitlyn inched closer to her and took Vi’s hands into hers, kissing every knuckle, soft and chaste.

“Then let me doing the cleaning for a while. You can’t be expected to recover from something like that so soon,” she said.

Vi started to shake her head and opened her mouth to argue, to tell her that she didn’t have to do that, and that she should be over it by now.

Before she could get a word out, though, Caitlyn said, “Sometimes, I can still see my mother in her casket, right before we buried her. I’ll see something that reminds me of her and, instead of thinking of all the good times I had with her when she was still here, that’s the only thing I can seem to remember. It’s awful, to live without them. But we have to keep living for them.”

All Vi could focus on was how beautiful Caitlyn was in that moment, not because of how she looked, but because how she saw Vi, really saw her. Whenever she had racked her mind for memories of Powder, in the days before Jinx had ever been created, she always circled back to that final moment. Not the one where she died, but the one where she wished she had. Sobbing on the ground, screaming for her, all while Vi was getting dragged away by an enforcer. The look on her little round face when she had said those words to her. You’re a jinx. Seven years she had spent away from her—, seven years she could never get back—, and when she finally reunited with her, she slipped away from her again before she could even say goodbye.

She knew Jinx would’ve wanted her to keep living without her. She hoped that Powder would’ve wanted that, too.

She didn’t realize how tightly she was squeezing Caitlyn’s hand until she looked down and saw her knuckles turning white. Caitlyn’s fingers were bright red and undoubtedly aching under Vi’s grip, but she didn’t let go. They were alike in that way. They never let go of anything, or anyone.

Vi leaned in for a slow, gentle kiss, softening her grip but still holding Caitlyn’s hands. When she pulled away, she smiled softly and said, “Look. They stopped shaking.”

“Maybe you can hand me that broom and help me clean this mess up, then,” she laughed.

“Only if you’re the one doing the cleaning,” she bit back, tossing the broom into Caitlyn’s hands with a wink, “Cupcake.”

[itacats]

Grief Beyond His Grave - Mini Series

FT: Simon x Reader

Warnings: Grief, loss of a loved one, emotional content, and mentions of death.

SUM: Six months after Simon’s passing, you uncover letters he left behind, each filled with love, memories, and heartfelt wishes. As you read them, his words become your guide through grief, offering hope and strength to rediscover life despite his absence.

A/N: Grab some tissues for this one—it’s a tearjerker but worth the journey! Let Simon’s love remind us that healing comes in waves 🌧️💌.

Grief Beyond His Grave Masterlist

Letters Left Behind

The house had grown quiet in the six months since Simon’s funeral, the kind of quiet that seemed to settle into the bones of the walls and linger in every corner. It was the absence of him that haunted you most—the space he once occupied, now filled with silence, heavy and unyielding. Days bled into nights, and weeks blurred together in a haze of half-hearted movements and unanswered questions. Even the echoes of laughter that used to fill the halls had faded, replaced by the soft hum of memories, faint but unrelenting, like ghosts drifting through the house.

It was on a rainy afternoon, the sky weeping in time with your aching heart, that you finally confronted the chest in the bedroom corner. You had ignored it for so long, fearing the weight of its contents, but the flicker of curiosity—or perhaps desperation—pushed you forward. The chest was dusty, its hinges groaning softly as you opened it, revealing fragments of your shared life. Photographs, pressed flowers, and mementos lay in a tangled embrace, but it was the neat stack of envelopes atop them that drew your attention.

Each envelope bore your name, written in Simon’s distinct handwriting, along with a date. You traced the curves of his script with trembling fingers, as if his touch still lingered on the paper. The first letter was dated for your first anniversary. It felt impossibly heavy in your hands, and as you opened it, the room seemed to hold its breath.

My love,One year feels like a heartbeat, yet also a lifetime. You have given me more joy than I ever thought possible. Your laugh is the light that keeps my shadows at bay. I love you more with every passing day.Forever yours, Simon.

His words poured over you like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your grief. His voice, so familiar and tender, seemed to echo in your mind. Each letter you opened unraveled more of his love, and with every word, the memories he described came alive—picnics in the park under cerulean skies, his arms around you on lazy Sundays, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

The fourth letter struck you harder than the rest.

My love,I never thought peace was something I’d find in this life, but you’ve shown me it’s possible. You are my calm amidst the storms. If ever I am not with you, know that you are my anchor, my reason for everything. I dream of a life where I wake up beside you every day. Thank you for giving me hope in this uncertain world.Forever yours, Simon.

By the time you reached the final letter, your heart was both heavy and hopeful. The date on the envelope made you pause—it had been written just days before Simon’s last mission, the one from which he never returned. You hesitated, as if delaying the inevitable might stave off the finality of his absence.

When you finally opened it, Simon’s words spilled out in a flood of raw, unfiltered emotion.

My dearest,If you’re reading this, it means I can no longer say these things to you in person. I hate that thought. More than anything, I wish to be there, holding you, laughing with you, simply existing with you.

Remember the small things—your laugh, the way you curl into my side, the way you kiss me goodnight even when you’re half-asleep. Those moments are everything to me, and they are what I hold on to when I’m away.

I dream of growing old with you, of sharing sunsets and grandchildren’s laughter. But if that isn’t to be, I need you to promise me something: live. Not just survive, but truly live. Let yourself find joy, even if it feels impossible now. Carry me with you, but don’t let my absence steal your light.

Yours, always, Simon.

Tears blurred the words as you clutched the letter to your chest, your sobs echoing through the empty house. The weight of his love, his hope, and his absence was unbearable, yet it also grounded you. Simon had poured himself into these letters, leaving behind fragments of his soul for you to hold onto.

Hours passed as you sat on the floor, surrounded by his words and your memories. The storm outside had softened to a gentle drizzle by the time you carefully tucked the letters back into the chest. Though the ache in your heart remained, a faint thread of peace had begun to weave its way through the pain.

Simon had been right: love doesn’t end. It changes, perhaps, but it never truly dies.

As the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you carried his words with you. They became a quiet strength, a reminder to find your way back to the world, even if it was without him by your side.

And in the still moments, when the house was quiet and your thoughts drifted, you could almost hear his whisper: Live, my love. For both of us.

Come join the follower event!!

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[flopsxii]

tenjiku’s princess — mitsuya takashi

after not hearing from you for days, he was bound to have nagging thoughts swirling around his brain. what he didn’t expect was for you to appear with tenjiku, the opposition and being announced as their little sister.

my note: kinda obsessed with character x other character’s sibling fics oop. also canon change, mitsuya didn’t get hospitalised and does attend tenjiku v toman. also kinda hate this cause i love rindou but he and ran fit the fic soo ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

mitsuya never questioned why he dropped you off down the street from your house, never once seeing which one was yours. maybe your parents wouldn’t like the sight of seeing a boy with their daughter dressed in a gang uniform and perched against a motorbike. he would do anything to get their approval, prove to them that he could treat their daughter amazingly as they dreamed someone would.

he never pushed you though, your sweet smile gracing your features as you reassured him you’d get home safe and he didn’t need to worry. he had hoped one day you’d introduce him to your family as he had done himself. luna and mana adore you. they frequently asked questions about his girlfriend, begging him to bring her over after school and maybe all four could go out for ice cream. he cherished the bond between you and his sisters, even his lock screen was a photo of you holding hands with his sisters wandering through the zoo.

he only wished he could bond with your family like you did his.

you never shared much information about your family, hardly even mentioning your parents. however, he remembered when you let it slip that you had two older brothers and that they had returned from being away for a while. mitsuya assumed maybe they were away at university and were back visiting their little sister but by the look on your face, it certainly wasn’t the case.

he occasionally asked questions but you never gave anything away. instead giving him a soft smile, “i just want you to myself, taka. what if my brothers stole you?” you joked, knowing yourself that they would do much worse to your loving boyfriend.

today was no different, mitsuya dropped you on the corner and helped you off his bike. he smiled as he noticed your disheveled hair after taking off the helmet he especially bought for you, a black helmet with fuzzy cover on, bunny ears flopping down either side. “thank you for bringing me home, kashi.” you spoke quietly as you always did but there was something in your expression that felt different this time. he decided not to press the matter, if you needed him, he knew you’d come to him.

“of course, y/n-chan. anything for you.” he smiled, taking the helmet from you and hanging it over the handles of his motorbike. pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and waving shyly goodbye, he watched you disappear down the street. what he didn’t know was that there was watchful eyes nearby and they were anything but friendly.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

it had been four days since your last text and phone call. even the evening he had dropped you off and you seemed uneasy, he had radio silence from you. it worried him, of course. you had never gone more than a few hours without at least sending a message, either to say what you were up to or that you loved him. this time, nothing. he tried to push these thoughts out of his brain whilst he was at the meeting discussing the conflict with tenjiku.

hakkai came to his side, noticing something was off with his captain. “something wrong?” he asked, gazing at mitsuya who’s face looked troubled. “nothing… just, have you heard from y/n?” mitsuya didn’t even know why he was asking, there was a minuscule chance that hakkai had spoken to you. after all, if he himself as your boyfriend had heard nothing, why would hakkai be any different?

hakkai shook his head in response, a frown settled on his features. his brows furrowed, “what’s happened?”

mitsuya thought about what he could even say. nothing had happened and you didn’t fight when he last saw you; if anything, it was perfect. he had taken you on a date to a nearby patisserie cafe, allowing you to choose anything you wanted. he remembered wiping some cream that had somehow gotten on your nose and how pink your cheeks got from the gesture.

“i… she hasn’t spoken to me. i haven’t even seen a glimpse of her, im so worried somethings happened.” mitsuya explained exasperated. “i can’t even visit her house and get her to talk to me…”

hakkai was always so empathetic towards mitsuya, it was almost as if he felt the pain his friend was. “i’m sure she’ll speak to you, taka-chan… maybe she’s just busy. she loves you to the moon and back! she’d never jeopardise your relationship without good reason.”

the meeting went on and mitsuya couldn’t concentrate no matter how hard he tried. all he knew was tomorrow he would face tenjiku and he hoped more than anything his prize would be seeing you afterwards.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the following day, toman was in ruins. emma’s death had rendered mikey and draken useless in this fight, smiley was incapacitated in hospital after being jumped by tenjiku unprotected by anyone. he was angry, rightfully so and ready to prove to tenjiku what toman was and what they would never be.

he was fighting with hakkai and angry by his side, after all angry was missing his brother and needed support in this fight; mitsuya was determined to support his comrades.

however, when he came face to face with the haitani brothers his heart stopped. they both strolled forwards, a smug expression adorning both of their faces. eventually, they separated, revealing you, his girlfriend sniffling from behind them.

“y/n-chan! are you okay?” mitsuya sprinted forwards, ignoring the immediate danger of the haitani brothers. he wondered if they had kidnapped you in an attempt to weaken toman even more than they already had. did they hurt you? your tears were breaking his heart, he didn’t know if he could bear it if they had laid their hands on you. mitsuya’s thoughts were broken by ran’s baton colliding with his forehead causing him to fall backwards.

“onii-chan! stop, please!” you screeched, after seeing your boyfriend get hurt and your older brothers just snickering in response.

‘onii… chan?’ mitsuya thought in confusion. hakkai and smiley had both stopped fighting their respective opponents after your sudden outburst. they helped mitsuya to his feet, his hands clutching his head in pain.

“that’s right, mitsuya takashi. y/n here is our little sister!” rindou laughed, ruffling your hair as even more tears streamed down your cheeks, “it’s a shame you didn’t introduce yourself like a man, maybe we would have accepted you.” ran added.

confusion was clouding mitsuya’s judgement, these were the brothers you were talking about? how couldn’t you tell him?

“we knew our sis had a little boyfriend, we half expected some little dweeb we could crush in an instant but you? it makes this a whole ordeal a lot more interesting.” rindou taunted him, inching forward to test mitsuya’s resolve.

rindou lunged at mitsuya, effortlessly taking him to the floor and trapping mitsuya’s leg in his iconic move. alarmed, you ran forwards hoping to plead with your brother. ran’s reaction was seemingly better than yours, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and effortlessly walking backwards, even with your thrashing. placing you down, he left you in the care of izana.

“i’ll get kakucho to take y/n-chan home.” izana smiled at you menacingly before you were forcefully taken away from the fight and your boyfriend.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

once you were returned home and left with threats of mitsuya’s life, you knew you had to stay put. you only prayed that your brothers wouldn’t do something so horrible, even if toman was their enemy.

you couldnt do anything but sit near the front door and wait for your brothers to return home. your only chance was to convince them that mitsuya was the only boy you could ever love. however, they didn’t return and instead you received a phone call about their recent arrest. all you heard was three deaths and multiple arrests.

hyperventilating and sobbing, your mind could only go to the worst possible outcome. ran and rindou had killed mitsuya just to get back at you for keeping him a secret.

a gentle knock at the door pulled you out of your panick attack. frantically wiping your face to get rid of any and all tears flowing down your face, you braced yourself from whoever was on the other side of the door. part of you was expecting tenjiku members or even police.

“y/n-chan, it’s me. please open the door…” mitsuya’s voice was almost inaudible through the heavy door but you heard it none the less. flinging the door open, you jumped into his arms. mitsuya wasted no time in catching you, wrapping his arms around your middle and fully taking you into his arms; ignoring the searing pain in his body, this mattered more.

be carefully carried you inside and kicking the door shut, “where’s your room?” he whispered, one hand coming to cup your cheek, wiping any excess tears away. he gently shushed your sobs as he followed your directions to your room.

after getting you settled, he retrieved some water for you and reassured you until you had calmed down, only the occasional hiccup. “h-how did you know where i lived?” you mumbled, head resting on his chest as mirsuya’s arms were snaked around your waist, holding onto you protectively.

“your brothers told me before their arrest. they’ve entrusted your safety with me.”

[rose24207]

May I request a George Weasley x reader where they are dating in secret because she's a Slytherin and their friends and families wouldn't approve their relationship, but reader gets tired of it being a secret but George wants so keep the secret so they fight and then reader gets injured in a Quidditch match and George doesn't leave her side while she's in the hospital wing? with a fluff ending please

Love beyond house colors

Summary: After a secret relationship strained by house rivalry, George proves his love for his Slytherin girlfriend by standing by her side after a Quidditch injury and publicly declaring their relationship.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: arguing, secret relationship, mention of prejudices

A/N: love the idea and here it is! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Keeping your relationship with George a secret had been thrilling at first. It was sneaking around corridors, stolen kisses behind bookshelves, and whispered confessions under the cover of darkness. But over time, the secrecy had grown heavier. You weren’t ashamed of him—far from it. You adored him. What hurt was the idea that George might be ashamed of you.

You were a Slytherin. And as much as you hated the stereotypes, you knew the world wasn’t kind to your house. You could only imagine what the Weasleys would say if they knew George was dating you, and the thought of your own housemates’ ridicule made your stomach twist.

But the secrecy was becoming unbearable.

It all came to a head one crisp Saturday morning in the library. George had slipped into the seat across from you, his red hair unmistakable even under the hood he’d thrown over his head to stay incognito.

“Morning, love,” he whispered, his grin crooked and infectious.

You barely looked up from your parchment. “Morning.”

George tilted his head, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

You set your quill down and looked at him, your heart pounding. “I can’t keep doing this, George. The sneaking around, the lying—it’s exhausting.”

His expression faltered, and he leaned closer. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You know what people would say if they found out—”

“I don’t care what people say!” you hissed, keeping your voice low. “George, I’m proud of you. I want to hold your hand in the halls, sit with you at meals, go to Hogsmeade without hiding in the shadows. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do,” he said softly, reaching for your hand, but you pulled it away.

“Then why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But you’ve seen how my family talks about Slytherins. Fred would never let me live it down, and Mum—” He sighed. “I just want to protect what we have. I don’t want anyone ruining it.”

Your chest ached at his words. “You don’t trust us to be strong enough to handle it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, George?”

He hesitated, and in his silence, you stood, gathering your things.

“Y/N, wait—”

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice trembling. “When you’re ready to stop hiding, you know where to find me.”

You left before he could respond, blinking back tears as you walked away.

The Quidditch match later that afternoon was brutal. Slytherin was playing Ravenclaw, and tensions were high. You were determined to throw yourself into the game, hoping it would distract you from the ache in your chest.

The last thing you remembered was a bludger heading straight for you and a sharp, sickening pain as it collided with your side, sending you spiraling off your broom.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the throbbing pain in your ribs. The second was the warm hand clutching yours.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, your vision clearing to see George sitting beside you, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed.

“George?” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

He exhaled a shaky breath, squeezing your hand tightly. “You scared the bloody hell out of me.”

“What happened?”

“You fell,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “The bludger hit you, and you fell off your broom. Madam Pomfrey said you’ve got a few cracked ribs, but you’ll be fine.”

You winced as you tried to sit up, and George immediately leaned forward, helping you gently. “Easy, love. Don’t push yourself.”

“Why are you here?” you asked, though you didn’t mean it harshly.

“Where else would I be?” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “I couldn’t leave you, Y/N. Not after—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot. I should’ve never let you walk away this morning.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding for a different reason now.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “Not of what people would say, but of losing you. I thought keeping us a secret would protect us, but all it did was push you away. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you—no more hiding.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, leaning closer. “I’ll tell Fred. I’ll tell my parents. I’ll tell the whole bloody school if you want me to.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping your eyes. “Maybe start with Fred.”

He chuckled, his grin returning as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Deal.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “I’m so sorry, love. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to.”

“You’re already forgiven,” you whispered, your heart swelling with love.

The next day, George made good on his promise. By breakfast, the entire Great Hall knew about your relationship. Fred’s initial shock gave way to teasing, but by the end of the day, even he was begrudgingly supportive.

And as you walked hand-in-hand with George through the castle, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d finally found the freedom you’d been longing for—all because of the boy who wasn’t afraid to love you, no matter the odds.

Thank you for reading!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 12 - Fleece Navidad

Lucifer x Reader Summary: When you get a gag gift, expecting a little prank to not go far, Lucifer reminds you that every action has consequences. Especially placing mistletoe on your pants. Warnings: Oral sex, use of pet names (ducky) in sexual context, dom/sub dynamics, P in V implied, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @nayomi247 ENJOY

The holiday season in Hell was hardly a time for joy—at least, that’s what Lucifer Morningstar believed. His realm was a swirling pit of chaos and torment, and Christmas cheer seemed about as out of place as an angel in a dive bar. But this year, something was different. 

That something was you.

The two of you had been together for only a few months, but your presence in Lucifer’s life had already started to stir long-dormant feelings in his blackened heart. Mischief had always been his forte, but you brought back the kind of playful spark that even the King of Hell couldn’t conjure on his own.

So, when Christmas rolled around, you decided to surprise him with a gift that matched his cheeky personality. Wrapped in glossy crimson paper, it was an offering you hoped would make him laugh—and maybe blush just a little. 

“Dove,” Lucifer hestitantly spoken as you handed him the gift, his golden eyes glittering with curiosity, “I hope this isn’t an exploding pie like last time…” 

“Open it and see,” you teased, your grin as mischievous as his could be.

Lucifer untied the ribbon with a flick of his elegant fingers, peeling back the wrapping to reveal… a pair of pants. Not just any pants—pants adorned with a piece of mistletoe right above…oh.

He raised an impeccably arched brow, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “Mistletoe, my dear? Are you trying to bait me? And by the way, these are women’s pants.”

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Oh I know, Luci. They are, let’s say, for both of us to enjoy. But you’ll have to figure out the rules of the game.”

The next day, you wore the mistletoe pants for the first time, striding into Lucifer’s grand parlor with an air of nonchalance. You were greeted by the sight of him lounging on his throne-like armchair, a glass of red wine in hand. His usual elegance was offset by the flicker of mischief that lit up his eyes the moment he spotted your outfit.

“Ah, dove,” he purred, setting his glass down. “I see you’ve decided to wear the Christmas present. Should I suggest this means you’re ready for the consequences?”

You tilted your head in mock confusion. “Consequences? I don’t remember mentioning any.”

Lucifer stood, the tails of his crimson coat swishing as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, my dear, mistletoe is meant to encourage kisses. And since your pants are practically dripping with it, I’m afraid you’re at risk of being kissed… constantly.”

Before you could respond, Lucifer leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against your cheek. And then a kiss to your nose. Your other cheek, your forehead, your lips. Your neck, your collarbone, starting to trail their way down. At first, your attempt at laughter and swatting him away was futile. But as he kept kissing, your body started to come alight with heat, core starting to ache and realize the wonderful implications of your boyfriend’s actions.

“That’s cheating!” you protested, though it was half-hearted. Allowing yourself to fall back into the arm chair, spread before him. The only thing in the way? Those damn pants.

“Not at all,” he countered, his grin widening. “I’m simply following the rules of your festive little prank.”

Placing your legs on his shoulders, the King of Hell sank to his knees. In one swift motion, he pulled down your pants to reveal the lacy black panties underneath…and the growing wet spot in their center. Inhaling softly, savoring the scent of your arousal, his hands came to play with your folds through the material. Allowing you only bits and pieces of glorious friction between you, the fabric, and the fingers you so desperately wanted inside you. 

Leaning down, he left small kitten licks onto the fabric, though grew tired of being deprived from the source. Using his clawed finger, he ripped the material in half, ellicting a gasp from you. Only to replace it with a loud moan the moment his tongue hit your folds at a ravenous pace. Eating you out like a man starved. Every so often, his gaze peers up, taking in your appearance. The way sweat clings to your neck or how your chest rises and falls with each pornographic moans that leaves your lips when he sucks on your clit just right. 

You couldn’t help but buck your hips into his face, hands flying up and tightening on the roots of his golden locks. His tongue only devles deeper and youou could feel yourself starting to shake, that familar tension building once more as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Feeling the tension build, the coil in your stomach snaps as you cry out in pleasure, fingers curling hard around the ends of his hair. 

Pulling back, face covered in yoru cum and a devilish smirk on his face, Lucifer speaks in a hoarse but dominant tone. 

“Wanna see where else you can place that mistletoe, ducky?”

[luimagines]

*walks on by with leaves in my hair and looking like Wild after a bad tumble through his Hyrule and into a couple of bushes and then had a fight with a rabid and feral swan, offers you tea and cookies, leaves without elaborating* Hey there, OG Lustrous Anon here, just passing by to wish you a nice day, plus drop of a few things ^^

I've just gone through the masterlist again, and once again thank you for all your work in the fandom, be aware I'll be attacking you with praise and compliments next time I come by because I need to stop smiling like an idiot first to properly articulate my thoughts through the severe sleep deprivation and what I love about every single one, so my apologies in advance once that happens, I'll probably be splitting the things in this ask in two or three others as a result until I get to that when I'm less sleep deprived, but once again, thank you!

A new Reader Variant came to my mind, we already had Fire Emblem Wolfskin Reader, so why not Manakete Reader or Manakete Vessel Reader?

Manaketes are basically a race of dragons that can use magic and can turn human, but as they went more and more mad because of a sickness called Degeneration they started sealing their dragon forms in magical gemstones, they can go from human to dragon form at will with them and use magic and even have half their dragon features out like wings, tail, claws, horns etc if they want, but without them if they shift they're basically uncontrollable beasts (although they can be calmed down by seeing people they care for, or through the use of specific songs). There's several types of Manaketes but the main type left is the Divine Manakete because the others were largely killed, which some of the greatest dragon deities on the series are, would be interesting to see how the Chain would react to basically having a dragon shifter as a traveling companion, they probably don't clock that they're not Hylian at first because Manakete have pointed ears and the slitted eyes can probably be excused by magic, but I think Twilight and Manakete Reader would immediately clock one another as shapeshifters because they both have magical gemstone necklaces (Reader keeping theirs there in case of emergencies, Manaketes are usually hunted, enslaved and or killed a lot of time, so I think Manakete Reader would be very careful keeping their identity hidden, but they'd have the stone as close as possible so they can shift and either defend themselves or fly away in a pinch, I can also see them either using fire magic or having at least a dagger or two on them), although if Reader is a Divine Manakete then the energies probably feel equal and opposite like how magnets attract and repel each other, I can see them being absolutely fascinated by one another as a result, maybe Reader tries to teach Twilight how to painlessly transform or how to half transform like they do (maybe manifesting claws and teeth when the Chain is in danger), they bond over their secret and cover for one another for Links not in the know ("Four: Uh, so I think I just saw an entire dragon go the same direction Manakete Reader went, should we worry? They can hold their own but they might need help. Twilight, with a perfectly straight face and lying through his teeth even with Time and Wild both squinting at him: Don't worry about it. It's their pet, don't ask me how they tamed an entire dragon I have no idea how either." , bonus points if Reader also is a Wyvern Rider and does, infact, have a dragon pet to further corroborate the fact they're an animal tamer, "Wind: Twilight's gone? But it's his watch shift now! Should we go look for him? Manakete Reader, perfectly nonchalant as they shake Wolfie who is drapped on their lap and dozing off awake: No worries, I'll go get him with Wolfie."), I just see a great potential for bonding and shenanigans in general, I can also see maybe the Fierce Deity catching on and thinking it's amusing and just not telling Time he has a dragon to the found family roster now, that or Time or Wild walk in on them when they're alone from the group and instead of maybe finding them doing something not exactly platonic it's just Manakete Reader with their horns out, teaching Twilight how to manifest the claws but instead he manifests the ears so they're teasing him about it and they both just freeze, that or, for more comedic purposes, Manakete Reader thinking neither Wild nor Time know just deadpanning like "Yes we were indeed making out, nothing suspicious to see here we'll get back to the others now. Don't ask further questions, that is indeed EXACTLY what happened." And Twilight just dying in the back, I think it would be amusing.

Or Vessel Reader, see, some Dragons/Manaketes in the Fire Emblem verse are lauded as deities due to being much stronger than others, and through some specific circumstances can take on vessels which they'll share bodies with, some of the main examples about this being Grima, essentially a successful version of Demise that's an artificial Divine Dragon before he was killed by his own vessel or slightly slowed down by having the 'chosen' of their era seal them with a magic sword made from the fangs of the female Divine Dragon they essentially put in a coma (this man succeeded in taking over and destroying every opposition against him in every single timeline he was in AND he had an actually competent kingdom backing him that was basically like his own Yiga Clan before he was stopped by his own vessel traveling back in time, rebelling and killing him, this man is what Dink WISHES he was) and nowadays Sothis, essentially a Divine Dragon that controlled all facets of time itself, even death couldn't slow her down as she found a vessel who unlocked the full range of her power by getting a magic sword-whip made from her own blinking spine and said vessel avenged her and her people's death, I think it would be interesting if the Chain basically ran into someone who's basically Byleth Eisner/The Ashen Demon aka Sothis' Vessel, or someone who's Grima's Vessel. Maybe Vessel Reader was transported to Hyrule because the Dink situation was getting out of hand and, since Hylia clearly wasn't doing much, Farore decided to enlist the much more proactive version of a time deity to aid the Chain in Sothis, could be a bit of a comedy of errors because Sothis would be absolutely down for hunting down Dink and infected monsters and Vessel Reader would likely agree as he reminds them of the people who tried murdering them twice over and because they can't allow more people to get hurt, and before the Chain fully gets there after hearing reports of infected monsters they just find the equivalent of a slaughter, torn apart Lynels mid fading, Guardians ripped apart and seemingly melted down via sword slashes, Yiga slashed and burned and downright beheaded and lizalfos parts left behind, and all any survivor Yiga can say is ramble about a "warrior too fast to see", "A Green Eyed Beast", "a demon in human flesh" and it kind of comes to the misunderstanding that there's something else after them or another Link with maybe the FD mask running rampant when actually Vessel Reader is hunting DINK because it's the quickest way to shut the gremlin that is Sothis up and because he may be a lead back home. Like the Chain is wary but Dink is the one hearing boss music.

I'll elaborate this on another ask, this is likely getting long and I'll be typing Lustrous Reader crumbs in another ask already if you don't mind hearing, anyway, thank you once again for all your work in the fandom and until the next one!

-Signed, Just an Anon on A Stroll.

P.S: Has anyone claimed the shell? To make it more identifiable and easier on you, I'd like to add it to my signature if no one has laid a claim on it, or the clover if someone has, 🐚.

No one has the conch! Feel free to take it :D

Oh boy! The first half takes Dragon AU to a whole new level!

A dragon reader where they have to hide it XD

A lot of shapeshifters get paired up with Twilight, I don't blame them. It's incredibly easy to make that connection. I do think that there would be a lot to talk about between the two in that sense. I think that Twilight would try to convince them to keep either keep it as secret as possible or convince them to let one or two more people know just so it would be easier to cover for them- because (and Twilight would admit this) he sucks at lying.

The vessel thing is also interesting. I don't know much about Fire Emblem in that regard (meaning I knew it once but it's been awhile). But I think that would also be a really intriguing dynamic to introduce to the group. I'm just not entirely sure how to execute that at the moment. ^.^*

I'd to think about it more.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[c0rpsedemon]

ok fr last one but there's actually a bootleg of my school's anastasia and i'm linking it bc you all NEED to understand that my infatuation with this one girl's voice which started when i was in the 6th grade and still hasn't really worn off isn't based on nothing