#i should replay born from a wish

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, ���I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[cactuskat]

Demon Swap: Sebastian from "Black Butler" and Lord Sullivan from "Welcome to Demon School Iruma-Kun!"

Imagine if you will, a Ciel who makes his deal with Lord Sullivan, but Sullivan does not require a soul, instead requesting that Ciel become his grandson. This has to be the easiest deal a human has ever struck with a demon, but oh, how mistaken that was.

Ponder perhaps, an Iruma who's soul is sold by his parents to the starving demon Sebastian, only for Sebastian to find, he'd like instead to refine this soul before devouring it, afterall he is a demon a finer tastes, and thus the Butler persona is born.

Ciel returns home with an... estranged relative(?) eager to take Gaurdianship over the newly orphaned earl

Iruma is taken to the demon realm, suddenly placed upon the lap of luxury, with a loyal butler pleased to do whatever he says- only Iruma has no clue what he even wants

Is Ciel safe- Oh yes, definitely, Lord Sullivan is formitable force when he wants to be, and he will tear apart anyone who dares attempt to hurt his grandbaby, and what's more is more than willing to do anything he asks as per their agreement. But oh, oh how Ciel often replays the events of that terrible day, and wishes he perhaps negotiated for different terms for their contract...

Ciel, tries to solve a murder, as Sullivan Fawns in the background ("Oh my goodness look how cute my grandson is!!! He's doing such a good job, don't you think Opera?? I should find him a little detective's outfit, he'd be just precious!!!!!" "NO!")

Iruma meanwhile is far too aware of the fact that he's just glorified wagyu, but you know what? This might as well be how his miserable life ends, he could enjoy it... he supposes... just has to learn how to enjoy things. Thankfully Sebastian is one hell of a butler and knows just what Iruma wants right when he needs it

and of course he helps out behind the scenes at every chance he gets, he's not going to let his snack be discovered by the rest of demon kind afterall. Sometimes not even behind the scenes, school rules be damned, any butler worth his salt goes wherever his master does. Professor Kalego hates him

[enhaheeseung]

NOBODIES - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung x fem reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, physical and verbal abuse, cursing, blood, crying, mental illness, mentions of suicide, smoking.

WC: 11,933k

Note: some of my older writing so if it’s not good please forgive me :(

3:00 am

While most people were asleep at this time, you could be found wide awake, sobbing quietly a few blocks away from your home.

Home.

A place you wish that you could be far away from and never come back.

Home.

A place where your parents abused you every night.

Home.

A place that didn’t feel like home.

You look out into the night sky with scraped knees, a black eye, and dark bruises covering your fragile body.

Every day was the same. Your parents abused you each chance they got for the unfortunate outcome of a broken relationship. They blamed you for why everything fell apart between them. They always told you everything was fine until you came along. Those dreadful words replayed in your mind daily.

Was it regret, was it something you did, was it just cause they didn’t have time for you? You’d never know.

You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask to be born, if it was your choice. You’d choose not to be born, that way, your parents would be happy, and you would have never existed.

In the distance, you could hear faint sounds of footsteps approaching as they got closer and closer.

A shadow figure came into clear view, standing right above you.

“What are you doing out here so late? It’s not safe for you to be all alone.” you kept your head down so the stranger, who could only be identified as male from the sound of his voice, would not see your bruised face.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you respond quietly.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be safe?” the unknown man crouches down, taking a seat next to you on the sidewalk and inviting himself into your personal bubble.

“Then I’d ask you why.” You wipe your tears discreetly.

“Cause I don’t know what safe feels like, and that scares me.” You hear rustling close to your side, and a metal cling sound, soon followed by a strong smell of cigarette smoke that fills your nostrils. “I hope you don’t mind the smoke.”

What bothered you more than the smoke was that you could relate to every word he just said to you.

“I assume from your silence and being out here all alone you feel the same way.” he deeply exhales the smoke.

“N-no, I don’t,” you lie.

“Please don’t waste time lying to yourself. I had to figure that out the hard way.” He responds.

“What do you know?” You question feeling irritated by him being able to read you like an open book.

“More than I want to know, so what should I call you?” He hums.

“I don’t give my name to random strangers.” you snapped at him.

“Fair enough, I’ll just call you darlin” he clicks his tongue.

“Whatever,” he lets out an airy laugh from your feisty attitude.

“So tell me, Darlin, why are you crying?”

“It’s none of your business,” you mutter.

“It’s not, and I’m not forcing you to tell me.” he inhales the smoke, flicking the ashes on the cold, hard cement.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me, darlin'. I understand more than most people.” even though you didn’t look up, you could feel his eyes looking down on you.

You pull up your sleeve, showing him the cuts and bruises on your left arm.

His breath gets caught in his throat at the familiar sight.

“I told you you wouldn’t understand.” you roll your sleeve back down. You should have never told him in the first place. You have no idea why you were even still talking to him.

“No, I do understand,” he’s quick to correct you.

“You’re not acting like it.”

“I just- I’m sorry, it reminds me of someone I used to know, that’s all.” he felt his heart ache at the memory despite how many years it’s been.

“Who?” You wonder, feeling somewhat curious.

“A girl.” he looks off into the distance, taking a puff of his cigarette.

“What is she like?” You ask.

“I don’t think words could describe what she’s like, but if I had to try, I’d say beautiful, someone who gave me a reason to keep going, different but different in the best way possible, the sweetest girl you’d even meet with the bitterest smile you’d ever see” his tone drops to that of a whisper at the last few words he spoke to you.

“She must be really important to you,” you say, feeling envious. You wished you had someone that saw you that same way.

“She’s more than important. She’s my life.”

You take in his words, nodding in understanding.

“How about you? What’s the most important in your life?” He flips the question on you.

Your lips curve into a slight smile. “A boy”

“What is he like?” He asks, his tone just as curious as yours.

“Special. he was the only person in my life who cared about my happiness,” you smile sadly.

“Was? Where is he now?”

“One day, he just disappeared without a trace and without a goodbye. To this day, I still think about him.” you nibble on your lip trying to hold back more tears.

“I guess we all have that one special person we can never forget,” he sympathizes with you.

“Why am I even telling you this?” You scold yourself internally.

“Now that, I don’t understand,” he chuckles softly. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I should get going now.”

“Too bad, I was having fun.” You stare at him as he drops the cigarette bud, stomping it into the ground and putting out the small orange embers. “Goodnight, darlin',” he says as his tall, slender figure slowly disappears into the windy night.

Standing up, you take heavy steps up the pathway and back to your home.

Heeseung walked the streets alone to clear his mind, or at least that’s what his psychiatrist used to tell him.

He didn’t see the point in it. There was nothing comforting or mind-clearing about walking nevertheless, he did it anyway cause he still enjoyed the silence of the night.

However, the encounter he had tonight was somewhat peaceful, and it gave him a sense of comfort, a comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe cause he hadn’t talked to anyone outside of the walls of the institution since ten years ago when he was admitted by his own parents.

His parents who never paid him any attention. He tried his hardest to earn their praise, studying without breaks, picking up piano, and becoming the captain of the basketball team, but nothing was good enough. They always looked over him, and his older brother got all the praise. Sure, heeseung wasn’t nearly as accomplished as his brother, but there wasn’t a need to compare when they both did well for themselves. At least, that’s how he saw it.

It was only one day he had finally had enough he had just got offered to sing for the schools band at an event in town and when he told his mother and father they just laughed in his face, and he’ll never forget what his father said to him. “It’s a miracle they would even want a talentless dim wit like you,” and that was it. At that moment, he knew they didn’t care.

But he still tried to make them care cause he didn’t want to believe the cruel reality of being the black sheep of the family and being compared to his brother all the time.

It was an extreme method, but he threatened to take his own life just so they would look in his direction, and they somewhat did, but not the way he wanted them to. After the incident, he overheard them both having a conversation about what happened. “I always knew he had issues,” he could faintly hear his mother's voice say, and that was the end of it. After that, he was certain they didn’t care and never would and that cry for help ultimately led to him getting treatment for mental health issues that he never even had to begin with, but what hurt the most was that they didn’t even ask what was wrong or if they could help. As a small boy all he ever wanted was to make his parents proud and to make them care, but no matter what, he just couldn’t.

Even though it was technically his fault why he ended up in the ward, he still blames them for everything.

Especially for taking him away from the one thing he cared about most, his friend, his crush, the only person on the planet that made him feel like he was special. He had to leave her so much sooner than he had ever expected.

He remembers everything like it was just yesterday, but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t. Today was the official mark. The last day he saw her was ten years ago.

The highlight of his day was seeing her at the swing set. She always sat there during break, swaying her legs back and forth as she stared at the ground meaninglessly. For some unknown reason, heeseung was drawn to her like a magnet, maybe it’s cause he used to sit on the same swing set every day with that same meaningless stare after being bullied.

He was bullied in school for not being smart enough, hit by his father for being a “failure,” and rebuked by his mother for smoking and doing drugs, which was his first helpless cry for attention, but that, unfortunately, turned into a habit and slowly an addiction and every day he swore it was his last pack but the full ashtray in his car said otherwise.

He finds himself reaching in his coat pocket for another tobacco-filled stick. He pats his butt pocket in search of his lighter, that was nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” he mutters with the cigarette resting on his moist lip. He remembered setting it down on the sidewalk where he was talking to you, and he turned in the opposite direction to where you both talked moments ago.

Spotting his shiny silver lighter on the sidewalk, he dusts it off, holding it to the end of his cigarette, cupping the small flame to shield it from the night wind. Before he could even take the first puff, he heard a loud scream in the distance, causing his cigarette to fall to the now rain-covered ground.

“Y/n! What did I tell you about staying out this late!” He hears a male voice just a few feet away, and if he’s not mistaken, you were the same girl he talked to not even fifteen minutes ago. He stares at the scene before him, watching the male, who he assumed was your father, raising his hand and landing a hard slap against your cheek. He flinched at the sound that echoed throughout the silent night. He squeezed his eyes shut. That one sound alone brought back so many memories that he didn’t want to remember.

So many memories he wished to forget.

He could hear your loud sobs, and the door slammed a few seconds later. He continued his not-so-mind-clearing walk back home normally. He would count each step he took on his way back, but no matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sound of your cries. It haunted him until he reached home, laying in his bed, and even when his head hit his pillow, he could still hear the pain in your voice. He was reminded of the time he had faced the same abuse years ago. Tears rolled down his cheek, staining his pillow, and that night, he didn’t get not even one minute of sleep.

Oddly enough, heeseung found himself taking the same path home as last night, which was unusual because he’d always find a new path home every night, but tonight, it’s like his feet were taking him back to you. What was even more odd was the small smile that crept up on his solemn features when he saw you sat alone with your knees to your chest.

It’s been ages since he genuinely smiled.

“So we meet again, darlin',” you hear his familiar voice, soon realizing it was the man from last night. He sits next to you, and for a moment, you feel like you never left the sidewalk, but the bruise on your left cheek is evidence that you did indeed leave the sidewalk and go home that night.

You quickly look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, then looking back down to hide the cuts and scrapes on your face.

Before you could look away, he had already seen the bruises on your delicate face.

“You should probably clean your wounds. They won’t heal properly if you don’t, and I’m sure you have enough scars already.” he didn’t just mean the ones on your body but the ones on your heart, too.

“How did yo-“ You cut yourself off, realizing that he must have seen them when you glanced up at him.

“Wait here.” he walks down a few blocks to a small gas station, grabbing ointment and bandages for your cuts.

“Will that be all?” The cashier behind the desk asks.

“One pack of Lo Crux.” he ponders on it for a moment, knowing a box would only last him a day, if that. “actually, make that two.” The cashier gives him a look, and heeseung could tell that look from anywhere, the look of judgement, but he no longer cared about the opinions of others. He gave up on people the day his parents gave up on him.

He pays for everything, exiting the store, lighting up a cigarette on his way back to you. “Here,” he hands you a red ring pop.

A small smile could be seen on your lips if it wasn’t so dark, but it was still there. “Thank you,” you mutter. For a moment, you felt like you went back to your childhood, remembering the small boy who always sat next to you. He would give you a red ring pop whenever you looked sad, which was every day, you missed him. He was the only person who was ever kind to you, but when you were both in fifth grade, he disappeared and never came back. You went to the park and sat at the swing set every day, hoping he’d come back to you, but he never did.

“Don’t mention it.” somehow, your smile looked familiar. It held so much pain and happiness at the same time. It reminded him of the girl he told you about back in fifth grade that he used to have the biggest crush on. Unfortunately, she always looked so sad, he went to the corner shop every day just to spend his only allowance on a red ring pop. They always cheered him up when he was sad, so for the rest of his school days, he made it a point to give one to her just to make her smile.

He pulled out the first aid kit, dabbing off the dry, crusty blood on your lip as you whimpered in pain. “Shh, it won’t hurt for long, I promise,” he whispers as his warm breath fans your face.

You take a good look at his features up close. Admiring his handsome face, you happened to notice a small mole on the front of his ear in the same spot as the boy who always gave you a ring pop back in school. You shook your head slightly. There was no way it was him. It couldn’t be. You dismissed your delusional thoughts and focused back on his face.

He applied a small amount of ointment on the cleaned wounds and placed a bandage on them. He stared deeply into your eyes, examining your face. He knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help but look at you. Even with a tear-stained face and cuts all over, you still looked stunning to him. “All done,” he says breathlessly, using every last bit of his strength to pull away from you even though you felt like a magnet sucking him in.

“Why?” You had no idea why this stranger was caring for you, especially after your parents said that you were incapable of being loved and cared for.

“Why what?” He says, shifting his eyes away from you after what felt like an eternity for him.

“This,” you point to the band-aid on your face.

“Cause you were hurt, and I don’t like when people are hurt.” he lights another cigarette that’s already two in less than ten minutes.

Yes, you were counting.

“So why are you hurting yourself?” You ask, noticing that every moment you spent with him up till now, he had a cigarette.

His eyebrows clash together in confusion. “hmm?” He replies.

You motioned toward the two packs of cigarettes he just bought.

“Oh, hard habit to break, I guess.” He laughs breathily, “But being alone on this earth is what hurts me the most,” He smiles sadly, looking at the cloudy night sky.

“Why does being on this earth hurt you?” You ask, intrigued by the young gentleman.

“Darlin, you ask too many questions.” He shifted uncomfortably. “How about this a question for a question that way, it’s even, deal?”

You nodded your head like a child.

He resumes right where you left off, “Cause this earth is unfair, and it hurts knowing that the one person who needed me the most is somewhere out there and I’ll never see her again,”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that.” you look at him, eyes full of sincerity.

“It’s not your fault, so tell me, why are you always out here alone?”

Before you could answer, you saw the lights from your house turn on. Your mother was looking out the blinds, waiting for you to come back inside.

You never understood why they wanted a curfew for you. It’s not like they cared about you or your safety.

“Sorry, I have to go now. Will you be out tomorrow?” You stand up, and he joins you shortly after.

“Sure, and no need for an apology, darlin, same spot?” He asks. He didn’t exactly plan on coming back, but since you mentioned it and he had nothing better to do, he supposed he’d come back.

Something about him saying “same spot” sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Same spot,” you confirm, turning around getting ready to leave. Before you leave, you realize you still didn’t catch his name.

“Wait! I never got your name,” you yell into the night, watching as he turns around from the sound of your voice.

He takes his hands out of his coat pockets, throwing them in the air as the cold breeze flows through his black hair and long trench coat. “darlin',” he says. A few beats of silence ensue, making your heart beat faster in anticipation as you shiver slightly from the cold. “I’m nobody and everything to someone,” he shouts, a wide smile making its way to his face.

“What does that mean?” You shout back.

“Whatever you want it to mean, have a good night, Darlin.” he turns around with a hearty chuckle, lighting up another cigarette before putting his hands back in his pockets and counting his steps all the way home.

Just like he said he would, he sat next to you on the sidewalk. The conversation started right where it left off.

“It’s my turn, darlin.” His voice hangs in the air for a moment before you reply.

“I sit out here alone 'cause the silence brings me peace, and the cold air reminds me to feel.”

“Why do you need to be reminded to feel?” he asks with a curiousness in his tone.

A small chuckle bubbles in your chest. It was the first time in a long time that you genuinely laughed. “I think it’s my turn.”

He smiled to himself. “You’re right.”

“Why did you decide to stop and talk to me?”

“I can’t put a finger on it, but something about you reminds me of someone I used to know so you could say,” he pauses, flicking his lighter open and taking a puff of his third cigarette of the night as he exhales the smoke and turns to look at you. “I was drawn to you.”

It took you a minute to compose your thoughts. His gaze was so intense that you could have been trapped in it if you looked for too long. “Now that you mention it, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Yeah? Who do I remind you of, Darlin?” He says intrigued.

“He was the boy I told you about before. He was from my class. He’d visit me at the swing set every day after school. There was one thing he did that I’ll never forget, whenever I was sad, he would always give me a red ring pop just like the one you gave me a few nights ago. When it was time for us to go home, he’d always ask same spot. And I’d reply, same spot.” You smiled at one of your happiest memories, and then it dawned on you why him saying same spot felt so familiar, but you still shrugged it off. You figured your mind was just playing tricks on you.

Heeseung froze right where he sat, unable to move, the red ring pop, the swing set, your sad smile. He remembered it all as he exhaled a deep breath. “what was the boy's name?” He asks with a shaky breath.

“You’re asking too many questions again.” you laugh but answer him nevertheless. “Heeseung, Lee heeseung,” you say with a bright and fond smile.

He stares at your face for a good minute. The corners of his lips turn into a frown as his eyes sparkle with tears. He drops his cigarette from his fingers, pulling you into the tightest hug while crying on your shoulder. You very slowly hug him back, even though you were extremely confused by the sudden action.

After his cries settled down a little, he said something that you wouldn’t believe not even in a million years. “y/n, it’s me, heeseung.” he pulled away from the hug to wipe his tears.

Now it was your turn to freeze right in your spot. “n-no, it can’t be you,” your eyes watered with tears replicating his.

He looked different. His skin was pale. He didn’t have his same bowl cut. He had an undercut with a scratch design on the side. His baby face was gone, his jaw was sharper and more defined. The sparkle that used to be in his eyes was now dimmed to that of nothing, and yet, behind everything else, you could still see the small boy who visited you at the park every day.

“I missed you so much.” he took your hands in his, squeezing them lightly.

You pull your hands away from his grasp, making him look at you with hurt and confusion written all over his face. “if you missed me, you wouldn’t have ever left me alone. You knew I needed you.” instead of feeling happy about seeing him, you felt angry remembering how he left you all alone when you were at your absolute lowest.

“Y/n, no, it’s not like that. I swear to you, if it was my choice, I would have never left you.” he holds your shoulders, making you look at him. “Please let me give you the explanation you deserve after all these years,” he pleads with you because he couldn’t lose you after just finding you again.

You chewed on your bottom lip, giving him a small nod after contemplating his words.

“I never told you this, but I was having a very tough time back then. Even though I didn’t show it, I was failing in school. I went through the same abuse as you every night from my parents. I turned to smoking and drugs as an escape and a cry for help, but nothing worked. It got so bad I threatened to take my own life, and they sent me to a mental institution. That’s why I didn’t come to see you anymore. It wasn’t cause I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t.” He rambles on with desperation in his voice. “Y/n, you were the only person in this fucked up world that made me feel like living, if I had a choice, I would have stayed by your side forever.” He explains with nothing but sincerity.

No.

Not heeseung, not the little loving, caring boy that made you smile every day, you never knew that he was hurting on the inside. Why out of everyone on this god-forsaken earth? Why him? He didn’t deserve it.

“Y/n, you have to believe me. I-I’d never leave you. I loved you,” his voice cracked while more tears trickled down his face. “I still love you.” he cupped your face, wiping the tears from your cheek as he cracked the tiniest smile. “I promised you I was going to marry you when we got older, remember?”

You felt overwhelmed. There was so much information coming at you that you could barely process it, but you didn’t need to process it. All that mattered was that he was back, Lee Heeseung was back, and he was everything that you ever needed. “Yeah, I remember,” you smile softly at him.

Your childhood friend and first love came back to you and confessed that he loves you, too. Just when you thought your life was all but over, he came back to you.

“Heeseung, I believe you, and I love you too. I’ve always loved you ever since we were little when you gave me my first kiss.” you pulled him into a hug, never ever wanting to let him go.

“I can’t believe we found each other again.” he hugs you so tightly. You could feel his how fast his heart was beating against your chest. You could have almost mistaken it for your own.

“You have no idea how much I needed you these past years.” you hug him back even tighter.

“Me too, y/n.” he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Me too,” he says, patting your back comfortingly. “I’m here now.”

The only sound to be heard was the gentle wind blowing softly against the trees as you both reunited with each other after so many long insufferable years.

“Your hugs still feel the same, just a little bit stronger,” he chuckles.

“Sorry,” you laugh, along with him loosening your grip.

He contemplates his next words carefully.

“It still happens, doesn’t it?” Even as a young boy, he knew what your parents did to you, and he despised them for it. He found out when you came to school on the first day, it was 90 degrees outside, and you were wearing a sweater. He noticed immediately when you grabbed the chains on the swing, your sleeves rolled down just enough for him to see scars and fresh bruises, and after that, it became his mission to make you forget and to make you smile.

“Every night,” you whisper.

“Why do you stay?” he whispers.

“Cause they’re still my parents,” you cuddled up to him closer.

He knew exactly what that feeling was like. “Come with me just for the night.” he rubs your back soothingly.

“If they find out, they’ll kill me.”

“Then they don’t have to find out I’ll bring you back early in the morning, trust me?”

“I trust you.”

And trust him, you did with your whole entire life.

You both walk hand in hand to his house, the only sound coming from both your footsteps on the cold cement.

“Like yesterday,” he pauses for a second. “You and me, it feels just like yesterday. Your hands feel the same, your laugh sounds the same, and your smile is still the prettiest. I could swear that I’m ten years old again.” he tightens the grip he had on your hand.

You couldn’t deny it. It felt just the same, “me too,” you lean on his shoulder.

When you both arrive at his doorstep walking in, you see nothing but an empty room with white walls, one chair, and a small table very minimalistic, almost like he had just moved in.

“Wh-“ You didn’t finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. He cupped your cheeks gently while kissing you ever so softly. You instinctively responded to the kiss, wrapping your hands around his neck and kissing him back with the same devotion.

He pulled away to take a breath and when he opened his eyes. he was even shocked to see your face so close to his something must have come over him, and he had zero self-control over what just happened. “I honestly don’t know where that came from. I'm so sorry.” before he could even continue apologizing, you were already initiating another kiss.

You bring his face mere inches away from yours. “Don’t be,” you say against his lips, pulling him closer for a more heated kiss than the last.

He groaned into the kiss, gripping your waist carefully. “y/n,” he swallows thickly, touching his forehead to yours with his eyes closed. “We’re not kids anymore. If we continue like this, just kissing won’t be enough,” he warns you cause he knew if things went further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, or at least he wouldn’t want to.

“Then let’s do more than just kiss.” he picks you up, taking you to his room.

You both take turns riding each other’s clothes, and you lay back on his bed, slightly covering your chest with your hands.

“There’s no need to cover up. You’re beautiful.” he gently takes your hands away from your chest, lacing your fingers with his while he hovers over you, his eyes never leaving yours for a second.

He pins your clasped hands to the mattress, and you wrap your legs around his back while he leaves open-mouth kisses all over your neck. “Heeseung,” you moan softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks and your body flush with desire.

He works his way down lower, swirling his tongue around your erect nipples as you tug on his hair in search of anything to grip onto.

You tangled your hands in his hair, making him emit a soft moan. He ghosts his fingers along your sides, a shiver slowly running up your spine as he leaves a trail of wet kisses along your abdomen. Slowly continuing his way between your legs, he placed three small experimental kisses on your pubic bone before giving your clit a soft lick. The feeling makes your back arch and your toes curl as he continues to lick your folds. While putting your legs over his shoulders, he rests his palms on your lower stomach, tracing his fingers all the way up to your sensitive breasts, giving them both a light squeeze as he uses his thumb to press down on your nipples, rubbing them in small circles.

He laps at your folds, getting a taste of your arousal that begins to leak out. The tip of his pointy nose brushes against your clit, adding even more pleasure. You could feel yourself getting close already. He uses his left hand to stick two fingers inside you easily from how wet you have gotten. He moves his fingers in and out of you while making a scissoring motion to open you up for him.

When he felt your walls tightening on his digits, he pumped his fingers inside you faster while sucking on your clit to make you reach your climax.

Your legs began to shake from the strong feeling of your impending orgasm. You whimper his name quietly when he brings you to complete bliss as he slows the pace of his fingers, calming you from your state of pure ecstasy.

He climbs above you on the bed, moaning softly when his wet tip rubs against your thigh. He leans down to place a loving kiss on your sweet lips. “Still the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” he runs his thumb along your jawline, taking in your beauty mixed with all the little flaws.

You look deeply into his eyes, feeling so many emotions that you couldn’t even explain. “I love you,” you say, encircling your arms around his thin waist.

He buried his face in your neck to hide the little tears that had formed in his eyes. He dreamt of you saying those words, but he could have never imagined his dream would ever come true. “I love you too,” he says near your ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

He holds himself up, looking at you briefly before he lined himself up with your entrance. Pushing his tip past your folds as slow and gentle as possible.

You clawed at his back from the slight pain of the intrusion as he pecked your forehead sweetly.

At the first sound of discomfort you made, he immediately stopped. “I’m sorry I should have asked sooner, but Is this your first time?” You nod your head without making any eye contact with him.

“Hey, look at me.” he tilts your chin, making you look at him. “It’s mine too. It’s okay. We’ll go as slow as we want. We have all night.” he gently rocks his hips back and forth to get you used to the indescribable feeling. He continues at a slow pace until he feels you starting to relax. “That’s it, just breathe and relax. It’ll fade away soon, I promise.” he guides you through the nerve-racking experience with his slow gentle strokes and soft voice. You follow his instructions, taking, steady breaths, just like he promised. The pain soon faded, and you felt like you needed something more. It didn’t take him long to realize, and he went a bit faster before pulling all the way out, leaving in just the tip and pushing back in all the way until he was sheathed in the deepest part of you.

“You feel like a dream.” he sets the perfect rhythm slow enough to feel every inch of his shaft but fast enough for it to be the most pleasurable feeling you’ve both ever felt.

“Heeseung,” you whimper, scratching at his back lightly.

“Careful, darlin',” he warns you in a delicate voice.

You caressed his back over the part you had scratched. Your eyebrows creased, feeling the scared and resin skin against your fingertips.

He takes both your wrists in his hands, placing them lower around his waist to hide his wounds, and puts your legs on his shoulders, aiming his thrusts slightly upward inside you at the perfect angle, caressing your spot each time.

“I-is this okay? Does that feel good?” he grunts lowly, not being able to speak properly from the way your walls were gripping him so tightly.

“It feels perfect. You’re perfect.” you hug his body closer to yours.

He lowers his head, connecting your lips with his in a passionate kiss. Your warm breath tickles his face causing him to smile through the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours, reaching a hand down to your clit, rubbing up and down, matching the perfect pace of his strokes.

“Mmm, heeseung,” you whine against his lips, clenching down on him tightly as your second orgasm of the night washes over you all at the hands of your childhood crush.

“Y/n, I love you s-so much,” he says in a hushed voice, not being able to hold back anymore, releasing his seed deep inside you as the pulsation of your walls coaxed out every last drop of his love for you.

“I love you too,” you tell him wholeheartedly, giving him one final peck on his quivering lips. You wipe away a few tears from his cheek as he lowers your legs, relishing in the feeling of your throbbing walls against his shaft that guided him through the blissful journey that was you.

He gently removes himself from you, grabbing a few tissues on his nightstand to clean you off a bit. He cuddles up next to you once he’s finished cleaning you up.

“I don’t want you to go,” he pouts, hugging you with his arms and legs.

“Me neither, but if my parents found out, it wouldn’t be good.” You play with his bangs.

“Okay,” he says disappointedly, “I’ll walk you back home.” Somehow, he manages to finally let you out of his hold.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine-“ he places his index finger on your lips, cutting you off.

“I’m walking you home,” he says firmly.

Once you both finished getting dressed, you walked back to your home, which was many blocks away from his house.

Unfortunately, the walk felt so short, if you had it your way, you’d walk into forever with him.

“Well, I guess this is it, darlin.” he took your cold hands in his, swinging them back and forth, not wanting to let you go.

“Don’t be sad, hee I’ll wait for you tomorrow, same spot?” you kissed his cheek.

He smiled widely at the nickname you gave him all those years ago. His eyes crinkle into those cute little crescents you fell in love with all the way back in fifth grade. “Same spot.” he finally let you walk up to your door, waiting for you to get in safely.

He turns on his heels, walking alone in the dark. He takes heavy steps back home, and he can’t wait till tomorrow to see you again.

Out of habit, he reaches into his pocket, taking out a cigarette. Right before he strikes his lighter, he puts the cigarette back inside the box, choosing to count his footsteps instead of indulging in his unhealthy habit.

Same spot that’s where heeseung sat waiting for you, tapping his foot impatiently while he nervously puffs on his 7th cigarette while waiting nearly an hour for you.

You made your way to the same spot as every night, and heeseung was already waiting for you on the sidewalk.

He stood up to bring you in for a hug, but his hand landed right on a fresh bruise, causing you to wince in pain.

“What’s wrong? Did they?” He says softly, not wanting to upset you.

You nodded your head weakly.

He walked in the direction of your house, but you quickly held him back. “don’t.”

“They can’t just get away with that,” he says, trying his best to remain level-headed.

“Let’s not make this about them right now. I just want to be with you.” you cup his cheeks, placing a short kiss on his pouty lips.

“But-“ you cut him off with another kiss. He huffs in annoyance but still gives in to your wishes. “Fine, but you’re coming to my place. I’m not letting you stay with them.” he grabs your hand a bit harshly, but you know it wasn’t his intention and that he was just upset.

Finally, when you both reach his house, you enter his bedroom, and it instantly makes you feel safe.

You two lay together in his bed, comforting each other. “I still can’t believe it’s really you,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Me neither.” You lace your fingers with his, placing a kiss on the back of his hand. “you know I waited for you every day, but you never came back.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and places a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault,” you assure him.

“I’m still sorry.” That was Lee Heeseung, too good, too caring for this cruel world, that he’d apologize for someone else behavior.

“You’re too good for your own good.” he lets out an airy laugh. “That’s why I love you cause no matter what happened, you always stayed the same. You never stopped caring for others, and you never stopped caring for me.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. I’ve never cared for anyone else the way I care for you, not even myself,” he tells you truthfully.

“I wonder what it would have been like,” you ask, caressing his knuckles with your thumb, “if you never had to leave.”

“I would have asked you to be my girlfriend. I would’ve left home sooner. I’d take you far away from here and show you what real love feels like and give you the life that you deserve.”

“Is it too late?” You ask.

“Too late for what?”

“For us,” you say, looking up at him with nothing but hope in your eyes.

“Darlin, it’s never too late. Just tell me when and where, and we can go. We can leave all of this behind. have the future we deserve and a chance at life that we never had cause our parents hate us.”

“I can’t leave them behind.”

“I think you’re too good for your own good, Darlin. They don’t deserve your love. Think about what makes you happy. I can’t promise you a life full of happiness cause this world works in unexplainable ways, but if you choose me, I can give you the one thing they can’t…” he tilts your head up, making you look at him, his eyes full of hope as he places a meaningful kiss to your soft lips and leans back stroking your cheek with his thumb uttering one word and emotion that you’ve never felt until you met him. “love”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” the idea sounded amazing. He’s all you’ve ever wanted, all you ever needed and to live a life with him full of love would be a dream come true.

“Take all the time you need. I left you before, but I’ll never leave you again. I’ll be there whenever you need me,” he promised.

“I love you so much I don’t deserve you,” you admit to him.

“I love you too, and Darlin, trust me when I say that you deserve way more than me.”

“I don’t want anyone more than you. You’re enough for me.” you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest and listening to his rhymatic heartbeat.

He stroked your back soothingly until you both drifted off to sleep a while later.

You woke up next to heeseung, who was now shirtless and pants less, then you remembered falling asleep before him, so he must have changed when you were sleeping.

Getting up, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up. You close the door quietly so as not to wake him.

You open the cabinets, looking to see if maybe he has an extra toothbrush. To your luck, he did when you reached for it, a small packet of pills fell into the sink.

You grab the packet and examine the pills. There was no indication of what the pills were, but you could only assume the worst. Making your way out of the bathroom, you approach his peaceful figure, shaking him awake when he doesn’t move. You panicked, thinking he might have done something while you were asleep. You start to shake him more aggressively, hitting his chest for him to wake up.

“Ow ow ow, I’m awake. I’m awake. Just stop hitting me,” he laughs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You hugged on to him for dear life, bawling your eyes out. “hey, what’s wrong? Did you miss me that much?” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I-I thought,” you stutter, unable to form any sentences cause what you thought he did while you were asleep.

“Thought what? Tell me, Darlin?” You show him the packet of pills, and his heart nearly drops at the sight he remembers the exact time and date he bought those. He had planned to overdose and kill himself he sat at a ledge as his legs dangle above the lake. He had the pills in his trembling hand, thinking back to all the times his father said he was useless and, his mother said she regretted giving birth to him, his teacher said he was waste of time, and his psychiatrist said maybe it was his fault for why his father beat him all of those thoughts were enough to make him want to end it all he held the pills to his mouth. But before he took them, he remembered you, the only person that ever needed him. He thinks back to the first time he gave you a red ring pop, the way your face lit up, and your smile gave him hope that even in sadness, you can still smile even if you don’t feel needed. Someone needs you, and that thought made him put the pills back in his pocket. He kept them in his cabinet as a daily reminder that he stayed on this earth for you.

“You don’t have to worry, Darlin. I told you I’ll never leave you again, and that’s a promise.”

You continued to sob uncontrollably into his chest. It took a good fifteen minutes for you to finally stop, and even then, your breaths were still labored and shaky.

“How did you find those anyways?” He asked, stroking your head.

“I just was l-looking for a spare toothbrush a-and I-I.” You broke down in tears again. He felt so bad for the chuckle he let out, but he found it too adorable how much you cared for him.

“Did you find one?” You nodded your head. “good, now go finish up. I’ll be waiting for you.” he pinched your cheek with a smile on his face. “I love you, and I swear I’d never ever think about doing that now that I’m with you, okay, Darlin?”

“Okay, I love you too.” You kiss him one last time before leaving.

You finished brushing your teeth and decided to take a shower as well. Once you were done, you entered the bedroom, seeing Heeseung leaning up against the headboard with a cigarette between his lips, legs slightly spread open, and he was still without any clothes.

“Hey, darlin', you took long enough,” he pouted.

“I decided to take a shower, too.”

“I can see that,” he bites his lower lip staring at your towel clad body. “Come here,” he says and pats his thigh.

You walk over to him, straddling his lap as your core comes in contact with his clothed cock. He sneaks his hands under your towel and grips your thighs, squeezing on the soft flesh as you rest your hands on his shoulders. He gently rocks you back and forth on his cock. “You smell really good.”

“Thank you.” You take your towel off, revealing your naked body. His tongue pokes the side of his cheek at the sight of your bare pussy, and you slowly grind on his lap, moaning from the feeling of his semi-hard cock.

You hum as he moves his hands to your chest, rubbing your breasts while his cigarette rests between his index and middle fingers.

He puts his hands on your lower back, making you grind on him harder.

“Fuck” he tilts his head back when he feels your wetness dampening his hard-on through his boxers.

You reach down between your bodies, grabbing his cock out through the small hole in his boxers as you guide his length, sliding him back and forth through your folds to get his cock wet.

He brought his cigarette to his mouth, taking a small puff, watching your each and every movement with hooded eyes.

You push the tip in, slowly sinking down on his cock inch by inch. “So fucking good” he rubs a hand over his face in disbelief at how tight and wet you were.

You start out slowly getting used to this feeling of him stretching you out. You lower yourself on his cock more, allowing his tip to brush against your sweet spot. “Heeseung,” you moan quietly.

The room is silent other than the wet sounds of your pussy when you bounce up and down on his dick.

You take the cigarette from between his lips, putting it to your own mouth before taking an inhale as you pick up the pace. “y/n,” he moans, holding your waist to help you ride him even faster, and he knows he's not going to last very long. You take a deep exhale, and the smoke clouds over your face before revealing the most beautiful sight he's ever seen, your lips slightly parted, chest covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your breasts bouncing up and down each time you take in his cock deeper. “Darlin, you’re perfect.”

You put the cigarette on the small ashtray on his nightstand to wrap your arms around his neck. You leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips as you moved your hands to the headboard to gain more leverage to fuck yourself on his cock at a much better angle. The slight position switch had him going feral. “Hee, oh god,” he grits his teeth at the sound of your desperate moans that make his cock twitch.

“I'm almost there,” he stutters out from the intense feeling of his cock getting harder as his high gets nearer.

He licks his thumb and reaches down to rub your clit in fast circles so you can both cum at the same time. You throw your head back, completely lost in the feeling of his big dick inside you.

“O-oh” The tight clenching of your walls made him lose it as his cum paints your sensitive throbbing walls.

“Heeseung,” you moaned loudly at the warmth from his release invading you, making you let go and tighten around his cock harshly as your pussy throbbed with each passing second you continued riding him till you both couldn’t take the overstimulation anymore.

He leans his head back, eyes tightly closed as he swallows thickly, feeling his throat parched from all the moaning and heavy breathing.

You place your hands on his chest, leaning down to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. When you pull away, his eyes slowly open as he takes a deep breath. He laughs breathily, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your chest.

You cradle his head in your hands, running your fingers through his dampened hair. “do you want to shower?” You say in a hushed whisper.

He hums into your chest, tickling you and making little goosebumps form all over your body. “Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” you kiss his damp head before lifting yourself off him carefully. You didn’t make a big deal out of cleaning up afterward cause you were headed to the shower anyway.

You both make your way to his shower. He turns his back to you, turning on the water. A surprised gasp escapes you when you see every inch of his back covered in scars. Tears instantly began to form in your eyes.

He hears your gasp and turns around to hide his back from you. He didn’t want you to see them cause he thought they were a sign of weakness.

“Why are you hiding them?” You ask.

“Cause I don’t want you to think I’m weak,” he says shamefully, looking down at his feet.

You place your hands on his shoulders, carefully turning him around so you can see his back. “what are you doing?” He tries to turn around, but you hold his waist, keeping him still.

“You’re not weak,” you kiss one of the many resin scars on his back. “You’re strong.” you kiss another one between his shoulder blades. “this is proof.” you rest your head against his back, feeling his shoulders trembling and a few quiet sobs coming from him as you hold his waist tighter, a few tears make their way down your cheek. “you’re the strongest person I know,” you say with your voice cracking at the end. “And I’m so sorry this happened to you,”

That’s when he finally lets it all out. He holds your arms that are wrapped around his waist tightly as the sounds of his cries echo off the tiles in the shower. Tears continuously fall from his eyes, mixing together with the warm water from the shower that spirals down the drain.

You hold him in silence until his cries finally start to fade away. He sniffles one last teardrop falling off the tip of his nose as he turns to you, pressing a kiss to your lips, feeling like a weight had been lifted off him now that he had someone to share his pain with. He cups your cheeks in his palms, wiping your tears away. “let’s not cry anymore. We’ve done enough of that for the day,” he laughs, causing you to laugh along with him. Now that the atmosphere was lightened, you both took turns washing each other’s bodies, feeling peace from the sound of the water beads that hit the tile.

Eventually, you both step out of the shower, drying each other off and going back to bed to spend as much time together as possible. “I don’t have any clothes,” you pout.

“Here, take my shirt.” he hands you a plain white oversized shirt that goes down to your knees.

He puts on a pair of black boxer briefs and joins you on the bed. “when do you have to be back by?” He holds your hand, kissing the back of it, looking at you with his big, brown, beautiful eyes.

“Not for another hour.”

“Good.” he lays down on the bed, throwing away the dirty sheets and pulling the blankets over you both, he opens his arms wide for you to cuddle him.

You both lay in complete silence, holding one another. No words needed to be spoken at that moment. As your hand rested on his chest and he stroked your arm, you both felt content.

Just as heeseung’s eyes began to close, a loud bang startled him from his resting state.

“Y/n! Open this door right now. I know you’re in there!”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere it was your father. “How did he find me?” Your heart raced, and tears welled in your eyes as you held on to heeseung as tightly as possible.

“I don’t know.” heeseung couldn’t help but feel a bit scared himself, but he knew he had to be strong for you. He tried to get up from the bed, but your grip was strong on him. “Darlin, I got you. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” he held your shoulders, looking at your eyes deeply.

You nodded your head, letting him go to answer the door.

He answers the door to be met with your father face to face. It was the first time he had been this close to him, and it took everything in him not to punch your dad till he was unconscious.

“Who are you, and where do you have my daughter?”

Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh. He had some nerve showing up and saying his daughter when he had never treated you like that since you were born, “I’m nobody to you, and y/n is safe with me, so you can leave.”

“You fucking bastard, who are you to tell me what to do?” Your father raised his fist, punching heeseung square in the jaw.

Heeseung stood still, not even flinching from the impact of the punch. If there was one thing he could take, it was getting hit. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

Your father raised his fist yet again, but heeseung was quick enough to catch it. “I don’t think you understood, so I’ll tell you again.” heeseung squeezed your father's fist tightly. “leave.”

You held your head in your hands, tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. You couldn’t take it anymore. heeseung got hurt because of you, and your father was angry all because of you. You had to end this now. You made your way to the door quietly. “Father, leave him alone. He has nothing to do with this.”

Your mother made an appearance from the hallway outside the door. Looking you up and down in disgust, “So this is what you leave home for to whore around? I always knew you were nothing but a little slut” she says with venom in her tone, taking in your half-naked appearance.

Heeseung was trying to be calm for you, but his resentment for your parents quickly overpowered that. “Don’t you dare fucking say that about her again,” he towers over your mother's frail frame.

“Or what? are you gonna hit me too?” Your mother taunted heeseung.

“I’ll never stoop to your level.” he unclenches his fist.

“Enough!” Your father raised his voice. “Y/n, get dressed. We’re leaving.

“She’s staying with me whether you two like it or not.” heeseung hid you behind his back, protecting you.

“I’d never leave my daughter with someone like you,” your mother chimed in.

“What is she to you then? your daughter? or a slut?” Heeseung used her own words against her.

Your mom raised her hand to slap heeseung, but he caught both her wrists, squeezing them but not enough to inflict any pain. “She. Is. Staying. With. me. I can take care of her better than the both of you combined. Does she look like she’s scared of me? Does she have any new bruises besides the ones you left her with last? I don’t fucking think so” Heeseung let go of your mother's wrist.

“Y/n, I won’t tell you again. Get dressed. We’re leaving,” you cower down at the sound of your dad's voice.

You tug on heeseung’s shirt, indicating for him to let you go.

Heeseung glared at the both of them before closing the door and looking at you.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious about going back,” he says in disbelief.

“Heeseung, just let me go,” you reply, completely defeated.

“No, I told you I’m never leaving you again.” he holds your face, making you stare into his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked, heeseung with tears in your eyes, noticing the cut on his lip.

“Darlin, compared to what I’ve felt in the past that didn’t even tickle, your man can take a hit,” he chuckles.

You look at him, a smile forming on the corner of your lips. “I’m scared.”

“I know, and that’s okay.” he holds your hands, squeezing them gently. “Look at me.” he stares deeply into your eyes to show his sincerity. “I know I said I’d give you all the time you need, but right now, we don’t have time, and I need you to choose.”

“I can’t leave them behind.”

His heart shatters at the idea of you going back to them. “Darlin, I know it’s hard to leave. It was hard for me too, but if I had never left my parents, I don’t know where I’d be if I continued to let them abuse me, but I know one thing I would have never found you again. What I’m saying is maybe when you hurt for so long, you encounter something good. Maybe I’m that good. Maybe I’m that person to make you feel again, maybe I’m the one to give you the love you deserve cause hell, we both know you’re the most lovable person on earth.”

His words make you smile and realize that he’s right. You loved your parents to death, but it was hurting you. You couldn’t stay any longer. If they loved you, they would never treat you the way they have all these years, and heeseung made you realize that all these years of hurt were at the hands of your parents and he was the only one to ever make you happy even when he was hurting he still made sure to cheer you up everyday and go out of his way to make you smile there was no excuse for your parents even when times got hard they could still find a way to show you they cared and they never did, but heeseung showed up when you needed him the most, and the answer had never been more clear than it is now.

He cups your cheek in his palms. “Darlin, if I promised forever, would you run away with me?” He looks at you in hopes that you’ll give him the answer he so desperately needs.

“Yes,” you said with absolutely zero hesitation.

He presses his forehead against yours. “I promise”

Another loud bang was heard on the door. “Hurry up, or else the punishment will be doubled!”

The loud banging interrupted your moment together, but it was time to leave. heeseung put on his pants and quickly grabbed his keys, making his way towards the window. “come on,” he reached for your hand, helping you out the window and following you close behind.

You both ran to his car, and he started the engine, looking to his right side. “I love you.” he held your hand in his and sped off into the distance. He had no idea where he was headed, but anywhere was better than there.

“I love you too.”

Your father busts down the Door to see the sheer white curtain swaying back and forth and the window wide open “shit!” He yells, holding his head in his hands before he begins to destroy everything in the house, looking for any trace of something heeseung may have left behind, but he finds nothing.

Your mother sits down in the corner, crying her eyes out, rocking back and forth with her hands in her hair and deep, deep down inside, regretting everything that she had ever done to harm you. The only thing that brought her some type of comfort was the look of happiness in your eyes when that unknown boy protected you, and maybe he was right. Maybe he could take better care of you than both of them combined.

Heeseung drove for hours until he reached a hotel, parking in the empty lot. You both made your way to the desk, getting a single room. heeseung held your hand, walking you to room 205, unlocking the door with the key card. He let out a sound of relief once he got inside. He had been driving for 6 hours straight. You lay next to him on the bed, hugging his waist. “Are you okay, darlin?” He asks, holding you impossibly close.

“I think so.” you clutched onto his sweater, tears staining the fuzzy material.

“Do you think they’ll come looking for us?” heeseung says.

“Let’s hope they won’t.”

“Me too,” he sighs. “What do you want to do for the rest of the night?”

“Can we just sleep?” You look up at him through your wet eyelashes.

“Of course, Darlin, I love you.”

“I love you too, hee.”

The next morning, you wake up to the countless messages and voice recordings from your dad. Every last one of them contained hateful comments, and when you listened to the voicemail, you heard your father loud and clear telling you never to come back and that you weren’t his daughter anymore. You couldn’t help but tear up from the voicemail. Your own parents abandoned you without any remorse, and that broke your heart into pieces that could never be put back together.

Heeseung stirred in his sleep. The sound of your sorrowful cries woke him up. “Darlin, what’s wrong?” You handed him the phone, and he listened to the recording. He clenched his jaw, slamming the phone on the nightstand.

Even though he was absolutely furious, a part of him was still relieved that you wouldn’t be in their life anymore, but at the same time, it hurt him beyond words cause he knew just how much you were hurting.

“You’re better off without them.” he brings your trembling body into his arms.

“You think so?” You hug him back.

“Darlin, I know so.” he made a promise to himself then and there that he’d do anything it took to make you happy again.

“Heeseung, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been alone before.” You pour out your worries to him.

“And you’re still not alone. You have me forever. I promise even if you didn’t have me, you’d still make it on your own cause you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Heeseung, thank you,” you tell him sincerely. He’s really been there for you through so much and words couldn’t describe how thankful you were for him.

“No, darlin', thank you for everything. I’d never be here today if it wasn’t for you.”

“What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“I wanted to die when I was without you, and when I made the decision to take my own life, I thought about every memory I had with you right before I swallowed those pills you found. I remembered your smile and knowing that you were still out there waiting for me on this horrible earth is what kept me going, and the crazy hopes I'd meet you again, now here we are in each other's arms getting ready to spend forever with each other.”

“Hee-“

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay, we’re okay.” he sends a tiny smile your way.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, assuring yourself.

“Darlin, I know it’s soon but let’s try to move on. Let’s do something to celebrate our first day together. Hmm?

“Like what?”

“Anything you want,” he says enthusiastically.

“Surprise me”

“A surprise you will get.” he kissed your forehead softly before getting ready.

After you both got ready, heeseung and you walked to a small lake, hand in hand, feet dangling over a wooden bridge as you watched the sunset.

“I know this is crazy, but after I met you after all these years, I feel like living again.” he rests his head on your shoulder. “And strangely enough, living on this earth doesn’t hurt me anymore,” he admits.

“What hurts you the most now?” Your question takes you back to the day he came into your life again.

“The thought of losing you,” he whispers.

“Well, you don’t have to hurt anymore cause you’re never going to lose me.” You promise him.

Silence ensues as you both throw tiny pebbles into the lake, watching the small ripples they create.

“Hee?”

“Yeah, Darlin?”

“Thank you for making me feel again. Thank you for showing me what love truly feels like.”

He tried his hardest to hold back his tears but failed miserably. “thank you for letting me be that person for you.”

“Do you think we have a chance for a better life?”

“I know it’s hard to tell right now, but we already have a better life, darlin',” he softly caressed your knee.

“We do, don’t we?”

“Yes,” he kissed you briefly, “wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He stands up, dusting off his pants. You wait for him, watching the sunset, thinking about the future with him, and you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him by your side now and forever.

He came back shortly, hiding something behind his back.

He sat down next to you, handing you a red ring pop. “you haven’t smiled since we left.”

He was right. Your mind was too focused on everything else that it was hard to think about how you’d actually be spending the rest of your life with your best friend, your lover, and your savior.

You took off the wrapper, bringing the ring pop to your lips, the sweet taste bringing back so many memories, causing a smile to creep up on your face instantly, and heeseung watched you in silence, a smile finding its way to his face as well.

“That’s what I like to see, darlin.” He wrapped his arm around your waist as the cool breeze gave you both a sense of peace.

Obviously, things weren’t going to be perfect within the blink of an eye, but with him, you felt like it wouldn’t take long to get past all the bad memories and replace them with new ones.

Good ones.

Things would be hard, but at least now you had someone to confide in and be there for you when you needed someone the most. You’d always cherish him forever. Not a day would go by when you didn’t shower him with endless love and care.

Heeseung knew it would take some time for you, just like it took for him, but he was willing to wait. He spent ten years without you, so he could wait a few months for you to get back on your feet without a problem.

One thing he was for sure about was no matter what happened or how long it took, he’d wait for you cause you were worth every second, you saved him from the world, his parents, and himself, and he owed you his life for it.

“Y/n, will you be mine?” He says out of the blue.

“I’m already yours, hee,” you say, gazing into his eyes softly.

“I know, but I want to hear you say so. Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks in all seriousness.

“Yes, heeseung, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You smile for the second time that day, and you swear you could get used to this.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing his last pack of cigarettes into the lake throwing away the last bit of his old life.

“And I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.” You kiss his cheek.

“Look, I know it’s far from the perfect love story, but I swear to you I’ll do everything to make it as perfect as I can.”

“It’s already perfect hee, just you being here next to me right now is perfect.”

He looks at you, pulling you closer by the neck to give you a deep, loved, filled kiss.

He pulls away, smiling so wide that it almost hurts.

“Darlin, we have this earth to ourselves now. We can do anything we want whenever we want, however we want.”

“So, what’s the first thing that you want to do?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Walk into forever with you.” he looks at your sparkling eyes, taking the ring pop from out of your hand and placing it on your ring finger.

You kiss his lips one last time, leaning back slowly and opening your eyes as he smiles at you with a fond, loving look.

He stands up, takes your hand in his, and walks you down the length of the bridge. Right as the sun sets behind you, you both share one final kiss, sealing this moment in your hearts now and forever.

In this life and in the next, you’d always be by his side and he’d always be by yours.

“Welcome to forever, Darlin.”

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Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[lafaiette]

The level of disappointment I feel for the new dragon age game is just so consuming. Like I'll admit that after so many years, I didn't think it would hold true to what the previous game set up. But I hate that I was right, and I hate that a game series I loved so much sas turned into what it is now. I didn't buy it at launch because I wanted to wait for a sale, but with all that I'm hearing I'm wondering if it's even worth it. I'm just so sad for how this all went and I wish it hadn't happened. It even makes replaying the old games feel like scorched earth because nothing I do will have an effect on anything. It never mattered. The game that said my choices matter has now said "actually you never mattered" and I'm so heartbroken about it.

It even makes replaying the old games feel like scorched earth because nothing I do will have an effect on anything. It never mattered. The game that said my choices matter has now said "actually you never mattered" and I'm so heartbroken about it.

This is also one of the most painful parts for me, together with the way they handled - or ignored - a majority of the established lore.

In Veilguard, we learn that the majority of the South is basically gone: Denerim is lost, Redcliffe is under siege, getting help from the dwarves of Orzammar, who are already stretched thin. The ruler of Ferelden is never addressed - what happened to them? Are they still alive? Are they defending Redcliffe? We'll never know.

Orlais is also lost. Val Royeaux and Halamshiral are barely holding on, and a noble faction decided (for some stupid reason) to join the Venatori and spread even more chaos. The ruler of Orlais is never addressed - are they dead? Did the rebel nobility kill them? What happened to Briala's elves? We'll never know.

Kirkwall has fallen, and Aveline has been forced to evacuate the city and move the few survivors to Starkhaven. We know that Varric is dead, so Aveline or someone else will have to take his place, if Kirkwall can even be recovered (doubtful at this point).

The Blight is back in Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds, too, with only some Avvar and Alamarri clans keeping things under control while in a temporary truce with Ferelden.

Everything we ever accomplished in DA:O, DA2, and DA:I is gone. They turned the South into a blank state so they can leave it there, ignoring it, now that the focus will be on Those Across the Sea, as the secret ending slide shows. This blank state will also allow them to return to the South, should they ever wish to, but without the need to take into account the players' past choices, because everything we knew, everything we built and fought for, is gone.

"Oh, Ferelden changed so much in the last twenty years or so, ever since that terrible Blight caused by the elven gods!"

"Orlais isn't the same anymore, there is another civil war because we lost our previous ruler. Who was it? Oh, I don't know, I wasn't born yet, I couldn't care less."

"Pity about Kirkwall. I heard it was a shithole, but the beer at the Hanged Man was apparently pretty good."

^ This is what we will get in the future.

[espace--positif]

I've been replaying Dark Souls 3 recently, and I realized that there are a lot of parallels between Miquella and Lothric. So naturally, I wrote a way-too-long post exploring these parallels.

The notion of a Lord of Cinder and an Empyrean are already similar enough - both are chosen to ascend to a great purpose that is determined for them. Lords of Cinder have to rekindle the First Flame, and Empyreans must become the vessel of the Elden Ring. In this, both Miquella the Empyrean and Lothric the Lord of Cinder are chosen by a higher power to continue some form of cycle (maintaining the First Flame / maintaining Order).

Miquella and Lothric are interestingly both cursed with similar afflictions, and they share these afflictions with a loyal, ever-devoted twin. Miquella and his twin Malenia hold somewhat opposing curses - everlasting youth and stagnation - and both were sickly in their youth.

Lothric's curse is more complex, as it isn't an inherently shared curse. Lothric is born sick, frail, and weak, never growing (like Miquella), and Lorian decides to shoulder part of Lothric's curse later in life, even at the cost of his own body's condition.

Lorian, raised as a knight, is said to have been left mute and crippled by his younger brother's curse. It is also said that Lorian, in fact, wished it so. (Lorian's Set, Item Description)

Malenia and Lorian, twin counterparts to their godly siblings, have an undying allegiance to Miquella and Lothric. Lorian essentially sacrifices himself for Lothric, and is even referred to as the "unyielding sword of Lothric's prince" by Lothric during the boss battle. Malenia, Blade of Miquella, adopts this moniker herself, but is also referred to by Miquella as "my loyal blade" in the intro cutscene to the PCR fight. Miquella and Lothric both inspire undying and unconditional devotion and loyalty in their respective twins (and even their followings) - Malenia and Lorian's sacrifices are not borne out of an ask nor a debt, but instead seem inexorable and weaved into their very existences.

Miquella and Lothric's stories should arguably converge as they're forced to confront similar circumstances - the unfairness of the world, the neverending cycle, the burden placed upon them by higher powers. But the decisions they made and the way their stories end couldn't be more different.

We find Lothric and Lorian, now united in soul, in the depths of the castle, having given up on changing the ways of the world, having refused to link the First Flame, simply waiting to watch the world end.

The two princes rejected their duty to become Lords of Cinder, and settled down far, far away to watch the fire fade from a distance. A curse makes their souls nearly inseparable. (Soul of the Twin Princes, Item Description)

Now, the "End of Fire" and "Usurpation of Fire" endings teach us that there are some potential ways to end the Age of Fire and fix the world. I say potential because, in true Fromsoft fashion, we can't know that this definitively fixes the world. In "End of Fire", there are tiny flames dancing on the horizon, implying that another Age of Fire will inevitably come back. And I can't say with certainty that the Age of Man in "Usurpation of Fire" would be free of stagnancy and decay, which plague the Age of Fire. Just as there is no definitive good ending in Elden Ring (yes, not even Perfect Order, but that's a story for another time), there is no definitive good ending in DS3.

Now, does this mean that trying to fix the world is a futile endeavour?

Lothric believes so. Miquella does not. And honestly, who's to say which one of them is right?

This is where their stories diverge. Lothric learns more about the nature of the world, of flame, and of the abyss from his mentor (widely accepted to be Aldia, who would have uncovered and studied Gwyn's sin and how it doomed humanity).

The first of the Scholars doubted the linking of the fire, and was alleged to be a private mentor to the Royal Prince. (Soul Stream, Item Description)

The way I see it, a combination of Lothric's insight on the true nature of the First Flame, and the ways he personally saw how cruel the world and its people were, particularly how the Royal Family treats him and Lorian as tools (a means to the linking of the flame) convinces Lothric that the world isn't worth saving. He becomes jaded, removes himself from the equation, and is the reason the events of DS3 take place in the first place - we literally have to drag him and the other Lords to sit on the thrones as smouldering remains (I still maintain that we are the bad guy for doing this). Knowing what he knows thanks to Aldia, which I presume includes the possibility of "End of Fire" and "Usurpation of Fire", Lothric still does not seek out a solution - and we know he would be more than capable with Lorian's help, as evidenced by their immense prowess in combat against a pretty beefed up Ashen One.

In constrast, Miquella also witnesses the cruelty of the world, but he isn't exactly privy to all its details, nor the fallacies in the notion of elevating a single being to godhood and letting them forge the shape of Order. Hell, we only really find out at the very end of Elden Ring, if we follow Goldmask's questline, that the world will continue to be messed up as long as the fickleness of gods persists. And that's not even the end of it; we're still not sure that the Greater Will is an impartial and dispassionate entity (I don't think that it is, seeing as it's one half of the One Great, its counterpart being the Frenzied Flame aka Chaos, which is definitely not dispassionate). The Greater Will craves order by any means necessary, and this thrusts the unjust burden of existence as an Empyrean onto willing and unwilling participants.

All this to say, the nature of Elden Ring's world is more complex than we understand, and more complex than Miquella understands. This gap in knowledge might be why he persists in his naive beliefs that he will be the one to fix the world, that he will usher in an age of compassion, where the cruelties which forged him are banished, and where all the suffering he has witnessed (and tried to mitigate with the Haligtree) will cease to exist. Miquella, like the Greater Will, tramples over the notion of free will in the name of a greater cause when he finally ascends to godhood in SOTE.

So Lothric exercises his free will in letting the world end, while Miquella attempts to excise free will from the world in order to fix it. Both end up slain by a "chosen one" who, arguably, doesn't really fix the world either, because there isn't really a definitive way to do so. There isn't really a clean, bow-on-top conclusion to this analysis, as I just thought that both these characters are really interesting parallels to each other.

Both Miquella and Lothric are characters who are dealt some awful cards since birth and are sprung into roles that they didn't get to choose. Miquella's ending is especially tragic, because he ends up abandoning the very fabric of who he is physically and spiritually, leading him to commit horrendous acts, to abandon his twin, and to lose himself even further despite ascending to godhood. Lothric, in choosing his death and rejecting the mantle of Lord of Cinder, can remain himself, small, frail, and cursed, yet whole alongside Lorian until the end.

---

Whew, that was a lot. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! DS3's lore has got me in a chokehold right now, so I just had to get some of these thoughts out. I love talking about this stuff, so please feel free to interact if you have anything to add, anything you see differently, etc. :)

[vivid-ink]

Hey folks! Annalise here. 😄 Welcome to my blog where I compose works of fiction based on whatever fancies my brain fixates on.

🔞 A word of caution - The content of my blog is mature and not suitable for minors under the age of 18. If you are a minor, please do not interact with my content and please feel free to block me if you wish. 🔞

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HUNGER GAMES: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes MASTERLIST

A TURN OF TABLES - Coriolanus Snow x Lucy Gray (oneshot)

AVATAR MASTERLIST

- SHOW ME & TEACH ME - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training?

What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

- TO KNOW YOU AGAIN - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

“Do you remember our last night here? The night before my family left?” The warm, rumbling timbre of Neteyam’s voice washed over her.

“Yes,” Naia whispered. How could she forget?... She had replayed the memory of his lips over and over numerous times.

One corner of Neteyam’s mouth lifted in a small smile as his eyes tracked over the delicate bridge of her nose and over her steadily flushing cheeks. His gaze stopped to rest on her lips, “You gave me something that night. I think it's time I returned it."

Set 7 years after TWoW: An exploration of what if Neteyam had to leave a girl he was close to behind when his family fled to the reefs to seek refuge.

-THE LOVE SHACK - {Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya Reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers.

And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

ONESHOTS & DRABBLES

Your Best Friend's Brother - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader} Mission Accomplished - {fem!HumanReader x Neteyam OR Lo'ak} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 01 - 'Handjob' prompt I See You - [fem!OmatikayaReader x dom!Alpha!Neteyam} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 31 - 'A/B/O' prompt

***~ VividInk AO3 ~***

Want a novel-length adventure with a strong narrative? This one is 20 chapters (152k words) & too long to put on Tumblr, but I'm most proud of it! It's a real rollercoaster with a completely original plot!

- VIOLET EYES - {Neteyam x fem!Avatar OC} *Complete* 18+ MDNI

Also on Wattpad HERE

Violet Eyes Summary:

Ria’s gaze paused at his handsome face. Good God, he had grown… She remembered his striking face from years ago in a time of battle at sea, it had been softer with youth then. He had barely been taller than her. Now, he towered over her...

Neteyam lifted his gaze to hers; green-gold clashed with striking violet. Yes, he remembered those eyes. Even the years that had passed in-between had not made him forget.

He lowered his face, his lips curling in a snarl, “I should kill you.” The English words were stilted as he spoke, “But I will not. A life for a life.”

AU where Neteyam lives - set many years after The Way of Water, after the defeat of the humans.

[amorphousbl0b]

You should play Sarpedon

Sarpedon is a short, free Steam game about Medusa and... Perseus? Well, not really.

It's an experiment in narrative isolation. Can we separate Medusa from her Ovidian tragedy and still see her as a person? If she's born an ugly monster, if she's not beautiful and not punished, can she still be sympathetic? And if we remove her slayer from a heroic motivation, should turning men to stone still condemn her to die?

As someone often annoyed with repetitions of this particular tale that offer nothing new to the conversation, I commend this game enormously for saying something interesting and for challenging the uncomfortable tendency in Medusa stories to associate sympathy with beauty lost. I highly recommend it. As I said, it's free, it should run on any machine, and it takes about half to one hour to play.

Analysis under the cut, go play it now if you want to experience the story blind.

The story of Perseus has been recounted so many times in so many different versions, each of which seems to argue over the monstrosity of his foe. The main draw of Sarpedon, in my eyes, is that it refuses to take the easy way and spell out Medusa's origin for us. She's not a defiled, transformed maiden. She is a monster. But she is loved by her father and her sisters. She is her family's only mortal, and that makes her so, so lonely. And so, so afraid.

Our player character both is and is not Perseus. He carries the harpe and receives gifts from the gods, but he doesn't arrive with purpose; he washes ashore in a box like a baby onto Seriphos. He seems to be trapped in a sort of loop. The Graiai have seen a hero trick them before, Stheno and Euryale know you will return to the cave no matter what, and Medusa seems to know how it feels to die. When you are turned to stone or torn to pieces, you wake in your box again. You're not a confident hero; you're a frightened boy walking into the lair of something you couldn't possibly understand.

And this game's creator gets mythology. They've clearly thought a lot about this story and its wider world. Allusions abound, from the cameo of Phorkys to a reference to Crocus (Hermes's less-popular discount Hyacinthus). There's even a brief inclusion of a fleeting maiden as you are reborn at the dawn of every replay. Kore is often used as another name for Persephone, and it fits well; she oversees the transition between death and life. As you return from being killed, she is there to greet you.

But the theme of this game with which I most strongly resonate is a statement I feel absolutely necessary in the discourse about a monster whose chief feature is her ugliness.

See, even since the Classical period Medusa has long been sanitized and beautified by artists and authors who wish to make her more sympathetic. Feminist depictions of Medusa that seek to empathize with her are usually just a pretty lady with snake locs who may or may not be green. Not only is her monstrous form neutered by removing her monstrous features, her tragic backstory emphasizes her human self’s uncommon beauty and innocence. Meanwhile, the frightening tusked Archaic Gorgon is relegated to those portrayals uninterested in humanizing her.

There is an unspoken message with all this: the idea that visual appeal is a prerequisite to compassion. Medusa must remain beautiful even when transformed, and if not, she must be a beautiful thing despoiled. On some level we are expected to feel sorry for her because we mourn the loss of her prettiness.

Sarpedon doesn’t give a damn about beauty. The Gorgons are all taken straight from Archaic art, and they’re appropriately terrifying. But as previously mentioned, Medusa has no Metamorphosis backstory here. She’s not a maiden changed. She was always monstrous, always hideous, and she’s a person anyway. It is simply her fear of death that makes her worthy of life.

That’s why I think Sarpedon rocks.

[friendlyfangs]

I can feel my love for horror media creeping back in. I should rewatch The Thing I should finish Dead Space I should finally play Born From a Wish or replay Silent Hill 3 I'm banging my fist against the glass

[wolfiesmoon]

Binding the book

duke!gojo x fem!reader

This is in a manhwa au?? I don't want to call it a royalty au since neither of you are royalty but its essentially your average manhwa plot

I've decided to write something completely unrelated to the canon plot of jjk since I'm still in the process of watching the anime lmaooo

i feel overwhelmed by this anime tbh someone save me , i might just skip to the second season since i've already seen the first one back when it first came out but lowkey forgor everything😵

He's talking to her with that smile on his face again. You really shouldn't be bothered by this anyway, so why do you keep staring? You know how this story ends for you anyways.

You quickly turned around, not wanting to invade upon Satoru's buisness any further. You weren't outright bothering him, but you have a feeling he wouldn't enjoy you staring at him from behind the corner like some stalker. Not when he has better things to be looking at.

You've been married to Gojo Satoru for exactly 3 months now. It was a marriage born of neccessity, pure interest to stop marriage pressure from your families. Atleast on his side, it was. He made that clear during the marriage proposal.

"Well, I'm mostly just doing this so mom stops nagging me about finding a wife already. I'm sure the same applies to you."

Those words have been replaying in your head for a while now. You've known Satoru only for about a year at that point, and even then it was mostly through social events you attended that he also happened to be attending.

So needless to say, it was simulaneously a complete surprise and completely expected when he suddenly gave your family a surprise visit to offer his hand in marriage.

You knew there was zero romantic feelings involved from the very beginning, so you know you shouldn't be surprised if Satoru wants to leave you for Lady Ichikawa, the girl he talks to almost every day. But your heart can't help but clench at the sight, and you wish Satoru could...

Nevermind.

You should be attending to your duties anyways.

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

You sighed, practically collapsing on your bed. Finance is not fun, to say the least. Being the Lady of the house is a suprisingly tiring job, and definitely gives you more respect for your mother.

The servants had already helped you change into your night gown, and you were perfectly ready to hit the hay right now.

As the servant put out the lights in the chandelier, you thought about Satoru again. The guy is an annoyingly persistent thought in the back of your head, that's for sure.

You haven't even talked in a week.

Sure, the two of you tend to get busy, but this essentially just proves to you what kind of marriage this is. If he did care about you, he would've checked up on you atleast once, wouldn't he..? You don't have a right to complain about it anyways, since you were the one who agreed to the marriage in the end. You should be grateful you even had a say in it.

As the servant closed the door behind you, you clutched the pillow in your hand. Maybe if you keep being useful, he won't discard you. You've only been thinking of yourself up until now. You just now realise that if he leaves you for Lady Ichikawa, you'll lose your family face.

This is shaping up to be a nightmare.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. "Oiiii, can I come iiiin?"

Well, speak of the devil. You would recognise that voice anywhere. "Sure, come in." you said so, but did you want to face him right now? You felt conflicted, both really happy and really nervous.

As the door opened, you turned your head, his silhouette, illuminated by the lights in the doorway coming into view. "Man, it's dark in here. You're going to sleep so early?" he said casually as he turned on the oil lamp on your table.

You only nodded in response, looking at him with half wonder half suspicion. Why is he paying you a visit all of a sudden? "What..? Can't a husband visit his wife?" Satoru furrowed his brows, noticing your dimmly lit expression and sitting down on the edge of your bed.

"I'm happy you're here." You assured him. And you truly were.

"Right, of course you are." Satoru smirked boldly at you, but somehow, you could tell that he was relieved to hear it. He looked in front of him.

"I got you this." he said a little more quietly, handing you a book as you sat up in bed. But it wasn't just any book. "No way... how did you even get your hands on this?!" you blinked multiple times in the dim light, making sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

When you realised how loud you just were, you quickly covered your mouth, and Satoru laughed at you for a bit before saying "I have my ways."

"That... doesn't answer the question. How much did this even cost?"

"...You shouldn't worry so much."

That idiot... You took another look at the book in your lap, the rare book you were trying to get your hands on for 3 years at this point. You can't help but wonder if the emergency finance work you had to do today has something to do with this.

"...Why?" you looked back up at him.

"Why what?" he flashed his usual smile at you, his white lashes fluttering as he gazed at you. This all seems... odd.

"Why did you get this for me? Why would you spend so much money on me? How did you even know I wanted this? What are you trying to do... here..." your last question died off as you saw his expression slowly shift to one of concern.

"You're... my wife? And I happen to know you want this? What kind of questions even are those, seriously." he scoffed, shaking his head.

"But... Lady Ichikawa..." why would he spend money on you when he could be putting it towards his future with Lady Ichikawa? Wait, why did you even start assuming that he'll leave you any minute to begin with? Gosh...

"Oh, her? Wait... are you jealous?" he raised his eyebrows playfully, leaning back. "Not really, I just thought that you... like her more than me." it felt strange finally admitting this to him.

"Ehhh.... She's just a friend, ya know. And I actually mean it. Why would I like her more?" Satoru looked as unaffected as ever, smiling at you. But beneath that nonchalant attitude and those shining blue eyes of his, you could feel confusion, doubt, and something else.

"You said in your proposal t-that... So I thought Lady Ichikawa..." all the turmoil that had been building up inside you for the last three months finally let loose, with you trying your best to speak through your tears. Isn't this pathetic?

"Shhh, I know what I said back then. But now that I actually have you, I dunno anymore. I wanna try out this whole love thing." Satoru moved up on the bed, moving over to your side and gently petting your head.

"In other words, you can stop crying now. Because I'm not letting you go anytime soon."

i dont like this one all that much I'll be real, but then again when do I ever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this is actually based on a very specific manga plot, if you get it right I'll give you a gold star ⭐

[luna-writes-stuff]

Francesca, Aragorn

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Angst with fluffy ending

Word count: 2651

Tw: Mentions of battle/injuries/deaths. Mourning and loss and whatnot. Aftermath of the Battle of Helm’s Deep.

Summary: When you joined the fellowship, it was in order to protect the ring bearer. You had never been in a true fight, nor had you ever slain anyone before. Your first battle had been a gruesome one, and you struggle to compose yourself afterwards. Aragorn comes to your room to comfort you.

Requested by @rebelbagel . You initially wanted Until It Sleeps, but when I was writing it, I realised the fic was pretty much exactly the same to this one (hurt/comfort). This one was written for someone else who didn’t want to be tagged, but I decided to combine it with your request! I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I still hope you like it <;33

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?”

You weren’t a fighter. Never had been. You’d never even killed someone to begin with, and that would say a lot considering the life of a ranger. You knew how to hunt, you knew how to hide, but you would never fight unless there had been no other option. And in all your years, the need for it had never been apparent.

You should have known better when you joined the fellowship. You had met Aragorn years earlier, and began travelling together shortly after. You had aided him in bringing the hobbits to safety in Bree, after which you swore to protect him and the ring bearer. You knew the journey would be a dangerous one, and you would never get through it without fighting, however much you wished to have held the same positivity as Merry and Pippin.

You had gotten the relatively easy route initially. Your first kill had been an Uruk-Hai, and though still terrifying, you didn’t feel much remorse for it afterwards - they were ruthless killers to begin with.

But everything quickly went downhill after the Battle of Helm’s Deep. The desperate screams of the women, the final shouts of fallen men, rain water turning red upon reaching the floor, and the abandoned weapons. You had expected to calm down once the battle had been over and you were free to return to your appointed chambers, but somehow, the feeling of desperation and grief only seemed to grow at the impending silence. The second you had entered the room, you had sat down on the bed, simply staring ahead, your eyes glued at the wall, hyper aware of all sounds around you.

“Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change. My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?”

You could still hear the sobbing and praying in the square, followed by footsteps in the keep and hushed whispers which you couldn’t quite decipher. But most heartbreaking of all were the mothers crying out for their lost children. Your fight did not lie with the people of Rohan - you had fought alongside them. Yet, it felt as if you were to blame for all this pain.

Familiar footsteps were heard coming up the hall, before gently halting in front of your door. You wanted to call out, be it to dismiss him or to invite him, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to make any noise. So when he knocked and you remained silent, he let himself in.

“You should let someone see your injuries,” He remarked kindly, having already taken note of your sudden silence after the battle. He knew better than to comment on the whole ordeal immediately. You merely shrugged at him, your eyes slowly falling onto his figure. He sighed as he observed you, silently closing the door behind him before nearing you.

He didn’t say anything as he sat down beside you, his own injuries seemingly not having been attended to as well. You didn’t tease him for it. Not now. You just stared back at the blank wall, your mind replaying the scenes that had occurred only moments earlier.

“If someone asked me at the end. I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again.”

His hand on yours is what slowly pulled you out of your mind and back to the present. You didn’t know what to say. No words would make up for what you had seen or what you had felt. It just felt wrong. All of it did.

“The people of Rohan will be safe now,” Aragorn tried to console, but you interrupted him halfway. “These are mothers,” your finger pointed towards the window, where sobbing was still audibly heard. “And they just lost their children.” Then, your head turned slightly, your eyes trailing up to meet his. “How do you cope with that?”

Sincerity and sympathy formed in his eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows together, visibly contemplating what to say next: “We can’t linger on that which is already lost.” You just scoffed at that, shaking your head lightly. “That sounds easy.” He dared risk a little smile at that, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

You tried to copy his smile, forcing happiness onto your features. A single choked sob escaped you as the lump in your throat began to build, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to push the feeling down. You didn’t see nor hear Aragorn push closer to you until his arms were around you.

“If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again.”

He didn’t speak as you broke down in his arms. Your hands clung tightly to the back of his shirt, your face buried against his chest as your body shook with your sobs. You had endured hardship before this travel, and had seen enough of it during your travel, but it suddenly seemed to become too much. Inexplicable grief washes over you. Grief for people you fought with; whose names you might not have known, but who you would have laid your life down for.

The aftermath seemed to simply be the breaking point. When all adrenaline had worn off and reality had begun to settle in. The moment you realised what you have done and what it had cost. The aching in your body seemed all the more visible now, but somehow it hadn’t even come close to the mental turmoil soaring through your body.

If this is what Aragorn had felt during all his earlier battles, you weren’t quite sure how you would manage after that. You had sworn to protect Frodo, and though he wasn’t near now, you would gladly give your life to pave the way for him. However, now you wanted nothing more than to simply stay here and help everyone build the keep back up again.

“I would still be surprised I could find you, darling In any life. If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I would do it again.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted through sobs, too embarrassed to look back up at him, even though you were sure he wouldn’t have minded. Be that as it may, you heard his gentle voice soothing you, shushing you before speaking: “I understand.”

You didn’t know what you expected him to say, but you would have at least anticipated some resistance. Some voice of reassurance telling you that you would be okay. That it was simply all in your head and that there was no reason to be stuck up on this. You would have anticipated anything but him telling you that he simply understood.

If this was your moment and your decision to stay, he wouldn’t even fight you on it. You and him both knew that you staying here would only make the destruction of Mordor and Sauron more difficult, but Aragorn was willing to risk it all just to let you handle on your own boundaries. If you hadn’t already fallen for him before, you might have just done it all over now.

“For all that was said Of where we'd end up at the end of it. When the heart would cease. Ours never knew peace. What good would it be on the far side of things?”

The hurricane of anguish and anger slowly settled as you properly processed his two words, your crying eventually dying down, though his grip did not fade.

Finally, you looked up at him, confusion on your face. “What if I were to stay? Are you not going to ask me with you?” “Why should I?” He countered softly, no ill intentions on his tongue. “Of course I would want nothing more than you beside me, but who am I to force you into a fight you do not wish to be part of?”

You couldn’t suppress the slight scoff in your throat as his words. Shaking your head lightly, you rested it back upon his chest, his hold now more comfortable than soothing. “This fight requires everyone to take part,” you lectured quietly. “Sauron takes no neutral opponents.”

Instead of a verbal response, he lowered his head lightly, placing a kiss in your hair, letting it linger for a while.

“It was too soon When that part of you was ripped away. A grip taking hold Like a cancer that grows Each piece of your body that it takes.”

“If you wish to stay here, I will let you.” He confessed, his voice a mumble against your skin. You would have loved to stay and get caught up in a fairy tale where you didn’t have to face the consequences of your actions, nor keep to the promises you had made. But you knew better than to remain there that was safe and false.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, hesitation clear in your voice. A heavy sigh came from you as your shoulders drooped. “It was all so much.”

Aragorn hummed in understanding, his hands squeezing you slightly, before parting from your hold. “The aftermath of a battle is the hardest part of fighting.” When you nodded at him, he continued: “But it also reminds me of why to never stop fighting. If I had not, I do not think I would have been on the right side of history.”

Again, you couldn’t help but smile slightly, wiping the tears from your face as you tried to forget about your breakdown seconds prior. “You want to leave a legacy.” You voiced.

“Though I know my heart would break I'll tell them put me back in it. Darling, I would do it again.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But not for the world.” Then, he rose from his seat on the bed, now making way to the window, observing the people walking around on the battle-ridden fields. “For those who properly knew me. I do not want to die, knowing I could have fought.”

He turned around at his own words, dropping his head to the side as if hearing his own advice for the first time. “You live. That is why you keep fighting.”

You wanted to believe him. He seemed so confident about his own speech that it nearly enticed you as well. But as you followed his footsteps and came faced with that which you had dreaded this entire time, your expression fell again: “What about those who lost their kin. Their loved ones?”

Aragorn followed your gaze, spotting an elderly woman weeping at the tears of an older soldier - one who you could have only guessed to be her spouse. Empathy came to Aragorn’s senses. Yes; he did feel bad for the people. It was, in a way, his responsibility to keep them safe. And though a great half of them had been alive, he could not say so for the rest. Yet, he kept his head high: “It is not up to us to determine their sorrow, nor force ourselves into their narratives. Let them grieve in their own way.”

“If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again.”

Your hand found him as you stood beside him, your head leaning on his shoulder as you observed the people. You could understand his point, and you wanted to feel that way as well. But words were easier spoken than actions were executed.

“Yes, lives were lost,” the man continued. “But there always will be. We remember those who have fallen and fight our next battles in their honour. There is no dignity in dying for salvation.”

‘There is no dignity in dying for salvation’. Those were words that you could understand. Words that you might have believed and emphasised with. He did have a natural skill for great speeches. You voiced this to him: “Spoken like a true king.”

“I am no leader.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Before he could bring his argument, you interrupted him, pointing towards Théoden, who was speaking to a small group of men: “I think the people would disagree.” Then, you looked up at him, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I think I would disagree.”

“I would still be surprised I could find you, darling In any life. If I could hold you for a minute. Darling, I would do it again.”

He reciprocated your look, that somehow permanent and effortless expression of gratitude and love written on his face. “I would have you; king or no king.” He spoke sincerely. “I do not care for the thoughts of others.”

In any other scenario, you could have easily said something back. But the comment seemed to come out of thin air, taking you by surprise. Regardless of the amount of times he had expressed his love to you verbally, it could still take you aback at times. Your face heated at his words, a flustered ‘thank you’ spilling from your lips as you forced your eyes to the mountains ahead.

Darkness loomed there, the sky having turned almost black. If there had been any sunlight left, it was not in the east of Middle-Earth. Helm’s Deep appeared to be the final destination of a little sliver of light, its luminescence faint, but apparent. It reminded you of what you had yet to face. That this battle might not be the most difficult one yet. Perhaps you were right to stay. It would certainly be the safer option.

But there was no point in being on the wrong side of history.

“I would not change it each time Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

“I could not stay,” you ultimately decided aloud. “If I can do anything about the terror of Sauron, I should. His defeat is near, I know this.”

A snicker of relief came from Aragorn as he let go of your hand. “You have great hope in Sam and Frodo,” he shared. “Keep it; hope is your greatest weapon.”

“No,” you dismissed. “My weapon is my greatest weapon. And maybe you.” Finally, a genuine smile climbed on his face. No assuring chuckles or elevating grins; a genuine, relieved smile. “Maybe me?” “If you were not here to tell me all this, I don’t think I would have walked with you to the ends of the earth.” “You do not have to,” Aragorn tried to convince, but your mind was already made up.

“No, I’m going to.”

“I would not change it each time. Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

His arm wrapped around you as he pulled you into his side, a hum of acknowledgment vibrating through him. “Then I am glad to have you at my side.”

You turned your head to the side, leaning down to place a kiss on the hand that held your arm. In response, the fingers flexed slightly; a signal of near affection and endearment. If he could not voice it, he would show it.

“I’ll fight,” you hummed, nodding your head towards the square in front of you. “For them. And for all who might follow them.”

And though a fight against Sauron sounded terrifying, you found yourself oozing with new-found confidence, if not some sort of comfort. A legacy; not for the people of Middle-Earth, but for your kin. Something to remember you by. If you were to go down, you weren’t doing it by giving up. You would do it beside him, fighting for those who cannot. And somehow, that seemed more peaceful than you imagined war to sound like.

“I would not change it each time. Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

[anakinfests]

round two is here! enjoy and make sure to kudos and comment for all the lovely creators of these works!

day one twitter thread: here

01. Curious Cultures by anonymous

“I know I am not your. . . ideal partner for this mission, but surely you’ve experienced enough that it should not be too off putting, right?” Anakin’s silence made space seem loud. “You will answer me, Anakin Skywalker, or I will have you sent back Coruscant.” “I haven’t,” or Anakin and Obi-Wan have to get married for a mission and Anakin left out a crucial fact

02. The Will of the Desert by anonymous

Anakin know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Obi-Wan is meant to be his. He just really need the Universe to gets its act together and make it happen.

03. take me out (to the ballgame) by anonymous

Obi-Wan goes to the baseball game against his wishes. He meets a handsome stranger and kisses him. (Not against his wishes)

04. thine cup spillth over by anonymous

Anakin is the son of the Force. The Chosen One. He was born to feed the Force's warriors.

05. Baby Duck Syndrome by anonymous

It is an unexpected shock when it happens because by the time Anakin is born almost all imprints are made, not natural. But Anakin’s master is a Toydarian, and there has never been a successful imprint made between a human and one of them. So as long as Anakin is useful, he does not need to know about imprinting, because it is not something that Watto can do to him, or to his mom. Then the Jedi comes, and Anakin touches his apprentice’s hand.

06. make every last moment last by anonymous

Anakin dreads the inevitable end of the war. Padmé is his wife, but Obi-Wan is his mate. He shouldn't have either . He can't keep them both forever. The future will be here before he knows it, and Anakin needs to get himself together so he can be a good husband again. So he can learn to be a good father. But he won’t be either of those things tonight. Tonight, there’s only one thing he can be.

07. just grab me and take me by anonymous

His hard cock swung between his legs as he rocked on his fingers, nearly sobbing from how it was almost right. He wanted more – he always wanted more – and this was on the edge of not enough. A hand wrapped around his hip and Anakin startled. “Look at you,” purred Obi-Wan, his other hand grazing down the length of Anakin’s bare arched back, “you couldn’t wait, baby girl?”

08. love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind by anonymous

The lack of Anakin at Obi-Wan's side was telling. Something was wrong. Obi-Wan tried to put the worry out of his head, replaying the previous night over and over. He’d spanked Anakin, but he’d done that plenty of times by now. He had also been rather strict with Anakin, but Anakin liked that. Anakin had told Obi-Wan that much a thousand times by now. Obi-Wan sighed, pushing away the datapad and pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did when he was annoyed at a situation. This time, however, he was annoyed at himself.

09. a vision of your blue eyes, so lovely by anonymous

“Let me take care of you,” Obi-Wan soothed. “No, I can’t,” Anakin’s hands ran down his forearms, up his biceps and to his chest where he grabbed desperately onto his shirt. “Why not?” Obi-Wan’s fingers threaded through Anakin’s hair, petting and carding through the short strands. Anakin felt more self conscious than he’d ever felt in his life. What if you hurt me? Was what Anakin wanted to ask. Instead, a sob racked his body and Obi-Wan’s arms went around him easily, like they always were supposed to. Or, what happens after the movie Awake if Anakin met Obi-Wan after his heart transplant.

10. Alpha|Alpha by anonymous

Obi-Wan looked at his former apprentice and smiled to himself. Anakin was the image of the perfect Alpha from the outside – he was tall, masculine, easily aggravated and hot-headed, assertive. Everything the society expected. Omegas always threw themselves at him, and Obi-Wan took unhealthy pleasure in watching them fail to seduce him.

11. Please, Devour Me? by anonymous

GFFA AU Obi-Wan and Anakin enjoy a moment alone together in Hyperspace, and Obi-Wan makes a selfish demand. -- “Like a rancor.” “A rancor?” Obi-Wan tugged at the lace with his teeth. “How insulting.” Anakin laughed but there was a tremor to his voice, the realisation that calling his beloved a rancor was probably a little more insulting than how he'd meant it. His legs fell apart even more, the skirts dipping between his thighs and Obi-Wan gripped the lace of one of the stockings in his teeth and tugged, pulling it down and over Anakin’s knee. --

12. Dream a Little Dream (Of You & Me) by anonymous

In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the SubAnakin_ObikinFest collection. Prompt:   Obi-Wan is an incubus and is frequently pulled into the dreams people have about him. It's never bothered him—it is how he feeds that part of himself and he always makes sure everyone has a good time—but it's become a bit bothersome ever since Anakin started his journey of sexual discovery and his Master is a frequent flyer in those fantasies. And it becomes difficult to walk away the more Anakin grows into a man and also into Obi-Wan's own personal wet dream. Anakin, his strong-willed and bratty Padawan, proves to be quite submissive and sweet in the land of his dreams. DNW: hard kinks

13. books and their covers by anonymous

Obi-Wan knows very well what he is. People look at his master and see a big strong alpha, and then they look at him, they see... well, the exact opposite. As a beta, he may not stand out much in the shadow of his powerful alpha master, but Obi-Wan is the only one who can make Anakin come.

14. i'd follow you down, down, down by anonymous

He watched as the Separatist ships jumped to hyperspace in a flash of blue. His own men’s ships around him began going back to the Negotiator but Anakin didn’t move. Not yet. He stared into space; the blackness of it, the stars that sparkled. There was nothing around him, and if he didn’t turn his ship around, he couldn’t see the Star Destroyer waiting for him. It was all empty, just like him. Just like their room had been when he woke up.

15. all tied up in knots by anonymous

The only thing that eases the sting of Anakin Skywalker's one-sided love affair with his roommate, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is the fact that they're also friends with benefits which means he gets some part of Obi-Wan at least a few times a week. He's made his peace with it, and his favorite part of the day is easily when his no-strings-attached fuck buddy pushes him down onto the mattress for a round of gentle, vanilla sex beneath the covers. Any part of Obi-Wan he can get, he'll take and not ask for more. That is, until he comes home early from work one night to hear Obi-Wan domming a woman in their living room, and Anakin's confronted with the knowledge that Obi-Wan is giving out parts of himself to people he's certainly never given Anakin. And that's just untenable. Follow Anakin as he tries to convince Obi-Wan to dom him, learns what BDSM even is, does paperwork, comes, gets rope burn, and maybe even gets the love of his life. Yes, in that order.

16. Taste of the Divine by anonymous

The day had seemed never-ending, filled with meeting after meeting and the infinite responsibilities of a wartime High General. Even Obi-Wan’s evening promised the sweet embrace of unrelenting work. Although, duty was the last thing on Obi-Wan’s mind when he laid eyes on what waited for him in his quarters. Or rather, who.

17. the way you bend, the way you break by anonymous

Anakin has a deeply rooted, shameful fantasy of having power taken away from him, by force. Obi-Wan, the ever sedulous and equally incorrigible partner, shares this fantasy and indulges his lover.

18. All Good Things (Come to Those Who Wait) by anonymous

“We’ve finally trained your hole to take all of me. Let’s do the same with your mouth next, shall we?" Anakin learns to trust that his Master knows what he's doing.

[midnightcrw]

Running away

Chapter 5

Timorous

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Life really had it in for you. Just moving to a new apartment seemed to unleash a brand new hell

Warnings: blood, scars

a/n: This chapter is pretty short, but I hope that it's alright with all of you. Please tell me if there should be any mistakes since I'm a bit tired from changing some things up in this chapter

The jacket lay languidly on the sofa, a silent sentinel to the night before. You had gently draped it there when you returned from the rooftop, a night when the city's twinkling lights seemed to pale in comparison to the sparkle in Simon's piercing eyes. Since then, you hadn't dared to touch it, fearing that the delicate fabric would lose the essence of his warmth.

The memories of your time with Simon haunted you, replaying like a scratched vinyl record, locked in an eternal loop.

Each repetition highlighted those tender moments when he gave you his jacket, his gaze holding secrets that made your heart race.

You didn't have to work today, which definitely made it harder to get your mind off things.

You had deliberately kept your distance from your messaging app, its notification icon flickering dimly. You tried to convince yourself that you didn't care about those unanswered messages, but the truth was far different.

You knew you'd have to confront them eventually, but for now, avoidance felt like the only refuge.

It had been years since those memories had seen the light of day, years during which you had gladly buried them deep within your heart.

The thought of those times had become a distant echo, until your move to this apartment had unexpectedly resurrected them. It almost felt like a sign urging you to leave, to flee once more.

But you knew, from bitter experience, that running away only compounded the problem. It was a lesson etched into your soul, a truth that had unfolded the hard way.

How you wished you could erase that day, could undo the cries that had escaped your lips. Regret and guilt consumed you like a relentless fire.

It ate you alive.

It devoured you, this unending cycle of memories. Night after night, the haunting screams from years ago replayed in your mind, as vivid and visceral as the day they were born. They never ceased, they merely slumbered, waiting for an opportune moment to resurface.

Sighing, you rose from the sofa and ambled over to your closet, a task you had procrastinated for far too long.

As you slowly opened the drawers, time seemed to stretch, each minute akin to an hour. Sweaters were your only task for today, and you placed them with deliberate care.

Your clothes didn't boast the vibrant colors of Grace's wardrobe. Instead, they were cloaked in darker shades, with only a few daring to be brighter.

Amidst the clothes, your hand brushed against something solid and unyielding.

Frowning, you retrieved it—a small box you had unceremoniously stashed away on your first day in this apartment.

It felt as though invisible strings tightened around your neck, suffocating you, and your eyes welled up with tears.

You couldn't fathom why you had spared this box from oblivion. Its contents held the scars of memories you wished to forget, but its presence seemed an insurmountable obstacle to relinquishing the past.

Your fear of someone discovering it, of them digging into your past, kept you from discarding it. Every item inside pointed back to you, a truth you dreaded.

Of being found.

The dread of being discovered, not just by anyone, but by them, gnawed at your sanity. They had an uncanny knack for resurfacing, tracing your every move with the tenacity of bloodhounds.

Even the faintest glimmer of familiarity would lead them straight to your doorstep.

The box remained untouched over the years, its exterior a tad dusty, as you hesitated to soil your fingers with its contents.

Someone once told you to keep memories close—photographs, trinkets, letters—yet you loathed and yearned for those words in equal measure.

If not for that someone, you wouldn't be burdened with these fragments of the past.

As you tilted your head up, you were met with the mirror on your closet door.

Gazing at your reflection felt foreign and unpleasant, as if you were staring at a stranger.

Deep shadows marred the brilliance of your once-sparkling eyes, and the contours of your face had lost their vivacity. The corners of your mouth drooped, rendering your countenance stark.

Unable to tear your gaze away, you pulled your sweater upward, as if in a trance, compelled to confront the secrets you had hidden for so long.

Slowly, you lowered your eyes, and there they were—the dark pink scars, a tapestry of pain etched into your abdomen. None were straight lines, each one meandered in a different direction, a testament to the chaos that had engulfed you.

They were deep, unforgiving, and some bore the faintest shade lighter, but their presence was a jarring contrast against your skin. Beauty had been snatched away that day, replaced by this disconcerting mosaic.

The memory of your desperate cries, those agonizing screams that had filled the room, replayed vividly in your mind.

But aside from those agonized sounds, not a single word had escaped your lips.

It was all your fault, but they didn't know.

People had asked questions, seeking to uncover what had happened and who was responsible. But you had swallowed your words, your throat constricting as you choked down the truth.

If someone had forewarned you that it would come to this, you would have fled, escaped it all.

But it was too late now.

You could never turn back time, never see that smile, and hear that laughter again.

You had obliterated every trace of information, ensuring there was no trace of your existence. You hadn't departed until every last vestige was consumed by flames.

No one was supposed to remember, except those persistent minds that seemed to track you down. You hated it.

Your fingers traced the scars, the ones that had once throbbed with pain, now only remnants of a turbulent past.

Looking at yourself like this felt foreign, you had avoided it as ardently as you had tried to evade the flames that once licked at your face.

Since that day, you had never worn anything that could reveal even the faintest hint of those scars. You had lost your sense of beauty, your feeling of desirability.

"Where are you going?" The frantic voice had called after you, footsteps echoing louder and closer, but you had paid no heed.

The palm of your right hand pressed down on the fresh wounds as blood seeped from the white cloth.

Your steps faltered, clumsy and uncoordinated, as you darted your eyes from door to door, searching amidst the overwhelming number for the one you sought.

"Stop!" Anger and frustration laced the word, and a hand reached for your arm, attempting to halt your frantic escape.

The touch scorched, a searing reminder of the pain you carried within. You wrenched your arm free. "Don't you ever touch me," your voice quivered as your teeth clenched, emitting an unsettling grinding sound.

Without waiting for them to react, you flung open the door and rushed inside. You barely even bothered to close it behind you as you inserted the USB drive into the computer, your heart pounding.

As you impatiently awaited the display, you rifled through every drawer, the stolen keys clutched tightly in your hand. The documents all appeared the same, indistinguishable save for their corners—some pristine, others darker or folded.

Your eyes darted frantically over each document, while the figure leaned against the doorframe. You refused to meet their gaze, for you knew it would only yield unease, confusion, and pity.

Casting various documents onto the floor, you finally located yours, clutching them tightly as the screen flickered to life.

With fevered determination, you opened each document that bore your name and began importing them onto the USB drive. "What happened to you?" The words were spoken carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal, but you offered no response, your focus solely on your mission.

Blood continued to seep through the cloth, the stain growing larger, but you paid it no mind.

Walking toward the door, you passed by the person who made no move to stop you, and you left with your final command, "Burn it down."

Tears flowed freely down your face, unbidden and unrestrained, as you let them cascade, unburdening your soul. You released your grip on the sweater, your gaze now fixated on the floor.

Faces from the past haunted your thoughts, etched into your memory like indelible tattoos. Some expressed terror, others fear, and still, some extended pity, but there were also those who...

Smiled.

A knock resounded through the rooms, causing you to flinch. In a flurry, you hurriedly stashed everything into the closet, where once-folded clothes now lay in a haphazard heap. The box found its place amidst the chaos, and you slammed the closet door shut.

"I'm coming," you called out urgently, then rushed to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water to soothe your parched throat. As you sipped the water, your heart still raced from the sudden shock of the knock.

With brisk footsteps, you returned to the living room, wiping away the lingering tears with the sleeve of your sweater. The glass still trembled in your hand as you approached the door.

When you opened it, the glass slipped from your trembling grasp, shattering into pieces. A gasp caught in your throat as your breath momentarily abandoned you.

"Laswell?"

Taglist:

@ghostlythots

@kittyoonsstuff

@poohkie90

@gothgirl6-6-6

@jupiternighties

@lumineeye

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Ten

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC) Warnings: The Kiss, Tears, Alcohol Consumption, Purple Nurples, These guys pulling their heads out of their asses (kind of), Josh is kind of hot???, Relationship discussions Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: *Kicks a door down* WE'RE BACK BABY! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth with Josh. This chapter is soooooo important to the overall story, and I needed to do some rewrites to make it perfect. Also, as a consolation for the wait… we have Willa and Sam in this chapter. Enjoy 😘. 

“Maybe I want your love forever. Is that so bad to say? Maybe we’re meant to be together if God had his way. And if you ask why I’ve stayed, and I’ll stay for all I know, It’s ‘cause the stars said so." “The Stars” - Chelsea Cutler

I can’t believe I shoved him. For the last 72 hours, that moment has played in my head on a constant loop, and each replay is worse than the previous. It’s like an out-of-body experience. Whenever I replay the memory, I see Josh’s look of hopeful shock when he pulled back from the kiss as if he couldn’t believe he’d drummed up the courage to do it. I see my hand press into the center of his chest, and then my arm extends, shoving him back from the hug I had originally wrapped him in. The hug where I turned it into a kiss. I see the sheer rage on my face as I ask him, “Is this the reason you wanted to help me? You found out I was single, and you wanted to make a move?”

I see Josh floundering, trying to explain himself as I tell him to leave my house. 

Every time I think about it, my heart breaks a little bit more. The worst part is Josh is still respecting my wishes. I told him not to contact me, and he hasn’t. But I only want to see his name pop up in my notifications. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last several days, and I’ve concluded that my reaction was borne from confusion. My feelings for Josh are scary. They’re big, and they don’t make sense, but I’ve been deluding myself by denying them. Craig, the world’s most unobservant man, could see them, but I couldn't. I wasn’t able to see it until it was too late, and I’d already ruined my chance before I even knew that I wanted it.  

I’m startled by a knock at my door. 

“Quincyyyyyyy,” Willa whispers from behind the door, “Can I come in?” 

I pull one of my pillows over my face to hide that I’m on the verge of tears before I shout back, “Yeah, it’s unlocked.”

“You’ve been in here for days, babes,” Willa grabs the pillow and tries to pull it away from me, but I hug it tighter. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“‘M just a little sad. S’no big deal.”

“I can see that,” She tugs on my arm, trying to get me to sit up, “and it seems like it might be a big deal.”

I finally sit up and look her in the eyes. She gives me a sympathetic smile when she clocks my red-ringed eyes.

“I promise it’s fine,” I shrug, adjusting the pillows behind me as I lean against the headboard. 

“You are three seconds away from crying. It’s not fine,” Willa quickly sits down in the space I just vacated by sitting up, “But you’re allowed to be not fine. You just need to talk to someone, preferably me, about it.”

My lower lip starts to wobble, a telltale sign that tears are coming, and Willa wraps me up in her arms. 

“Wilson, I think I messed up big,” My voice is pathetically tight. 

“Did something happen when you went to get your stuff from Greg?” She’s rubbing gentle circles along my back. 

“Something like that,” I trail off, offering no additional context. 

“I knew I should have taken off,” she starts, “I’ll kill him if I ever see him again. Did Josh at least stand up for you?” 

At the mention of Josh, my tears start falling freely. I nuzzle a little closer against Willa.

“Wait - did Josh do something?” 

I shake my head because how am I supposed to tell my best friend that I am insane and deeply infatuated with a man I’ve known for weeks? How can I tell her I ruined everything because I couldn’t dissect my feelings well enough to understand them? 

“How many men will I have to kill?” Willa whispers more to herself than me, and it causes me to snort out a snotty laugh. 

“Please, no murder charges, Willy. I can’t bail you out on a student teacher’s salary.”

“Oooh, There they are! Cracking jokes and everything,” She chuckles, “If photography doesn’t pan out, I may go into therapy.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, there.”

“Hey, seriously. I can tell you’re not ready to talk about whatever happened. But please know that I’m here whenever you are,” She pulls me in for one more bear hug, “And for the love of god, please take a shower, you greasy little gremlin.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop another laugh from escaping me as I get out of bed and walk over to my dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of joggers and a faded band tee. 

“I’m showering because I want to, not because you told me to, by the way,” I shake my fistful of clothes in Willa’s direction. 

“Mhm, I’m sure!” 

I feel much more like myself after my shower, though I’d never tell Willa that. She’s already left the apartment by the time I’m out of the bathroom, so I begin plotting. I’ve learned a lot about Josh over the time we’ve been talking. He likes chocolate, cheese, and wine. So, I dig through mine and Willa’s pantry, searching for the makings for a picnic. There are a few things that I need to go to the store for, namely wine, cheese, and salami.  So, as I’m walking to the store, I pull out my phone and click into my messages from Josh. 

Me: Hey, can we talk?

His response is immediate as if he’s been waiting to hear from me

Starlight✨: Please Me: Today? Starlight✨: Can we meet in person if you’re comfortable?

My heart melts; he is still putting my comfort above all else.

Me: Sure, where? Starlight✨: The bar? I can send you a pin Me: That works! 

Josh sends me a pin of his location, and I immediately put it in my Maps app. It’s about a 15-minute walk from my apartment, so I let him know that he can expect me within an hour and a half. 

I grab everything needed for my impromptu charcuterie board and quickly head back to my apartment to piece it together. I try to stay pretty grounded while cutting the salami and cheese into thin slices and adding them to Tupperware containers. Just because Josh responded doesn't mean he’s forgiven you. It doesn’t mean you have a chance. This becomes my mantra as I’m finishing up. I’m not trying to make myself feel bad; I’m simply trying to remain realistic. And the truth of the matter is, it would be completely understandable if Josh never forgave me. But it is a good sign that he texted back so quickly. 

I finish slicing and add the containers of meats and cheeses, a pack of crackers, some chocolates, and the bottle of wine to a cooler I’d found sitting on the pantry floor. I sling the cooler over my shoulder and pull my phone out to text Josh, letting him know I’m on my way, and I head out into the world. 

My body is full of nervous energy as I walk over to Caravel Tavern. I consider that I may meet his brother today, which makes me sweat. I’m barely even in his life; I don’t need to meet his family yet. That’s ridiculous. But, thinking of his brother and the bar does help to take my mind off of the fact that the outcome of today’s adventure could make my life better or it could break my heart. So, with that knowledge in mind, I turn down the cobblestone street the bar sits on and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants as I stare at it. I hype myself up again. You can do this, Quinn. He’s just a boy, and I finish my trek up to the front door. 

I don’t see any signs of life; the “Open” light is shut off from the night before, no cars in the front parking lot, no music playing behind the door. The uneasy feeling grows in my chest. Why would Josh tell me to meet him at an empty bar? Surely, he isn’t playing a prank on me… though I wouldn’t blame him if he were. Setting those feelings aside, I decided to try the door, and to my surprise, it opened, and a bell jingled to signal my arrival. 

I step over the threshold and take in my surroundings. The walls are covered in various pieces of art, a refurbished piano sits in one corner, and a vintage jukebox sits against the wall next to a hallway that I assume leads to bathrooms. I lock eyes on a cardboard cut out of Young Bob Seger that seems entirely out of place, and I laugh. This place just screams Josh, I think to myself, remembering the organized chaos of his bedroom that I caught glimpses of over FaceTime. But, after looking around, I can see there are hints of others in here as well—a painting of The Queen Anne’s Revenge hanging on the wall and other pirate-themed items. Vintage jazz posters are thrown in every now and again, and framed ticket stubs from various events that happened over the years. 

God, this place is so cute.

My snooping is interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway beside the jukebox. 

My heart clenches as I meet Josh’s eyes for the first time since The Incident. 

He raises one arm in a half-hearted wave and flashes me a sheepish grin.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“Sorry to intrude,” I giggle, “but some dude asked me to meet him here?”

Josh cracks a full-fledged grin, and butterflies erupt in my belly.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

“Speaking of, do you care if we take this somewhere a little quieter? My brother will be here,” he glances up at the ornate clock behind the bar, “literally any second. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but he’s been on an absolute warpath for days. Something about some ‘crazy,’ his words, woman he met.” 

“No, I fully understand. My roommate is dealing with something similar, and she’s been an absolute terror about it.”

“Wonder if the situations are related,” Josh jokes before leading me to a stairwell at the back of the bar. 

I hear the bell on the door chime, and Josh lets out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Hang out here while I deal with my brother?” 

I nod, then watch as he walks back the way he came. 

I pull out my phone and mindlessly scroll through apps while I listen to the vague chatter of Josh’s brother. 

I'm so curious. I just have to see how the nice guy I talked to on FaceTime could switch to warpath mode.

“SHE - SHE FREAKIN POKED ME AGAIN, MAN.”

Is he really that pressed about being poked? And I have to suppress a chuckle at the thought of some woman jabbing her fingers at this guy to teach him a lesson.

“And I’m sure you deserved it,” Josh responds thoughtfully. 

“DESERVED IT?! SHE’S INSANE!”

Oh yeah, buddy, you absolutely deserved it, I think, as Josh’s brother continues. 

“I’M STARTING TO BRUISE! LOOK AT THIS!”

“Hey, pull your shirt down,” Josh sighs, “Have some decorum, we’re in public.”

“That’s not very progressive of you, Josh. FREE THE NIPPLE!”

“I’ll free your nipple.”

A high-pitched squeal follows that statement. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, can you stop your incessant whining long enough to watch the bar until Jake gets back?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” Josh pops his P for emphasis. 

I see Josh round the corner with a soft smile on his face. 

“Sorry about that,” he starts, “Want to head up to the roof? We should have some privacy there for at least a little bit.”

I gesture for him to lead the way and can’t stop myself from asking, 

“I’ll free your nipple. How exactly does one do that?”

“It’s quite simple,” he says as he boots open the rooftop door, “Pinch and twist.”

We step out onto the roof, and I’m in awe at how beautiful it is up here. There’s a small sitting area with a loveseat that overlooks the street below. There are multiple strings of lights hung above our heads. Various potted plants are artfully scattered across the area. There’s even a small bistro table in one corner. 

As I’m taking in the area, Josh leads me to the loveseat and gestures for me to hand him my cooler, setting it on the ground beside him, before asking me to sit. 

“Quinn,” he runs one hand through his hair, “I have to be honest. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. And the thought of that damn near broke my heart. I’m not asking for anything from you. I want-“

“Josh…” I try to cut him off, but he barrels on through

“I just want you to listen to me. I’m so sorry for acting out of line. You see, the thing with me is-“ 

“Josh.” I try again, more forcefully. 

“The thing is, when I’m in something, I am all in. And I know it’s weird, and it’s fast, but I am all in where you’re concerned. You can tell me never to talk to you again, and I’ll listen. But I had to tell you. This,” he gestures between us, “is real for me. And I-“ 

I get up from the couch and stand directly in front of him. 

“Josh, please stop talking,” I finally get out, as I grab the front of his plain white t-shirt and pull him closer. 

He slowly nods, his eyes flicking back and forth between the grip I have on his shirt and my lips. 

“I came here to do this,” I whisper before I close the distance between us and press my lips against his. 

It only lasts for a moment before I pull back. Josh makes a sound of protest before trying to pull me back in. 

I have to focus. I can’t get lost in this yet. 

“I have to say my piece, Josh,” I say pointedly, “this is real for me too. It’s been real for longer than I wanted to admit. My ex saw it, and it’s part of what led to our break up. He was able to piece it together before I was.” 

Josh sucks in a deep breath, staring deep into my eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. 

Content in whatever he found, he lets his breath go and nods for me to continue. 

“I reacted… poorly,” I wince, “when you kissed me because you scared me. This scares me. It’s absolutely terrifying that I feel things for you that I never felt for my ex—“ I pause to collect my thoughts, “I moved here with Craig, you know. I thought I cared enough about him to move across the United States with him… but what I felt for him isn’t even a drop in the bucket of the feelings you awoke in me. You have ingrained yourself within my soul in a matter of weeks. And that is terrifying.” 

He opens his mouth to respond, but I wave him off and continue my spiel. 

“This sounds fucking crazy, but after that first night we FaceTimed, I changed your name in my phone to Starlight. Because talking to you, getting to know you, made me realize I’d been living in a cloud-covered night. You dispelled those clouds and let a little starlight back into my life. And, I guess this is all to say that I hope you can forgive me. Because the last three days have been miserable, and I don’t want to lose you again.” 

Instead of responding, Josh pulls me into a crushing hug and holds me for what feels like an eternity, nuzzling his face against my neck. He eventually pulls back, gently cupping my face in both hands. I lean further into his grasp, closing my eyes and humming a contented sigh as he uses his thumbs to caress my skin for a moment before he begins peppering my face with tiny kisses, starting with my cheeks before moving to my nose, forehead, and even my eyelids. 

“I’ve come to care for you a great deal,” he presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, “and I’m glad you feel the same.” 

He finally reconnects our lips, and my heart melts.

I wrap my arms around his neck and weave my fingers through the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck. I give his hair a tentative tug, and he rewards me with a soft gasp.

I’ll file that little bit of information away for future use… 

I use his gasp as an excuse to deepen the kiss, gently running my tongue along his lower lip, waiting for him to grant me access. And he does. Our tongues tangle together, and I get lost in the feel of Josh’s hands sliding down my sides and coming to rest at my hips. He grips my hips and forcefully pulls our centers closer, grinding his hardness into me, and I let out a little groan. 

I crack one eye open, searching for the loveseat behind us, and slowly begin walking Josh backward until his knees hit the soft fabric, and he sits down, bringing me down on top of him. As I readjust to straddle his lap, his hands find their way back to my hips. 

He gives one of my hips a little pinch, and I pull back, breathing heavily.

“Quinn,” he chuckles, “We have to stop.”

I let my lower lip come out in a pout, and he leans up and nips at it before continuing. 

“I would love nothing more than to keep going,” he shifts his hips to grind his hard length against me once more as if to emphasize just how much he does not want to stop, “But I think that with how fast our feelings are moving, we should take this side of our relationship little bit slower.”

I consider his words for a moment and know he’s, without a doubt, correct.

I grab the sides of his face and gently kiss the tip of his nose, “No, you’re absolutely right.” 

I attempt to dislodge myself from his lap, but he holds me still for one more moment. 

I look down at him, cocking one eyebrow in question, and watch as a wicked grin overtakes his face. 

“Plus, you know,” he presses his lips against my ear and whispers, “The first time I have you, it’ll be all to myself. No one else will be around to hear the little sounds I’m going to coax from your sweet mouth.”

“You can’t say things like that to me,” I nuzzle into his neck and sigh. 

He simply hums in response and lifts me off of his lap. 

Still catching my breath, I watch as he rubs his hands together and then gently pats his thighs. 

“I don’t know about you, my dear, but I’ve worked up a bit of an appetite,” he flashes me a cheeky smile. 

His ability to flip in and out of various personas will always amaze me. 

“I did bring a little picnic,” I tuck a stray bit of hair behind my ear, then glance down at my fingernails, “I was hopeful that this would go well and we’d get to share it.” 

He stands and not so subtly adjusts his pants before grabbing the cooler I brought and shooting a questioning glance my way. I nod and follow him to the little bistro table in the corner of the roof.  “You do know the way to a man’s heart,” Josh lets out a long sigh, patting his belly. 

“I think anyone can be won with a little bit of cheese and a good wine, regardless of gender,” I say through a fit of giggles, feeling a little loose from the now-empty bottle we’ve shared.

“Too true, Bug,” he snaps as if he’s figured out the answer to a riddle that only he was in on, “what a universally human experience.” 

“Bug?” I ask, stuck on the pet name. 

“Oh yes, that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

I gesture for him to continue. 

“See, it started because I thought about how you’ve already wormed your way into my heart and mind. But I didn’t really assume a prospective partner would enjoy being called a worm. So… Bug.” 

“That is weirdly sweet,” I let out a small laugh as I leaned over the table to give him a quick peck. 

When I pull back, I see Josh intently staring over my shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration. 

I whip my head around to see a door I’d been too distracted to notice; the curtain covering the glass gently swayed like someone had just been peering out of it. 

“What’s that door go to?”

“That’s my apartment,” he says, brow furrowing deeper, “I’m curious who was just at the window. Because my brother should be working.” 

He shrugs it off and stands from the table, extending one hand to me. 

“Would you care to dance?” 

“There’s no music,” I respond questioningly. 

“Don’t need any. We’ll make our own.” 

I roll my eyes, he’s so cheesy, but accept his hand and allow him to lead me in a vague approximation of a waltz. 

As he twirls me around the rooftop, giggling every time he missteps, I think that I could get used to this. He’s so full of love and light, and he has such infectious positivity that it’s hard for me to believe I’ve gone nearly my whole life without being drawn into his orbit. 

I let out a laugh as he dips me, almost dropping me, and I think about how it just makes sense that we’ve found each other. And how it finally feels like all the pieces I never knew were missing are finally clicking into place. 

You know you can’t be with him publicly yet, a voice in the back of my mind says. I hate that I know the voice is right. I want to show him off. I want to bring him to Willa — to subject him to her judgment because I know he would pass every test with flying colors, and I know that Willa would love him the second he opened his mouth to introduce himself. But I can’t do that yet. 

“Josh,” I cut him off mid-dip. 

“Mmm, one second, I’m concentrating very hard on not dropping you,” he grins down at me before pulling me back up into his arms, “okay, proceed.” 

“We need to talk about what we are, what our expectations are,” I stare deep into his eyes, willing him to understand that this isn’t a bad thing, just a necessary evil. 

His smile drops for one single second before he understands. 

“Of course, Quinn. Communication is essential.”

And I’m so glad he feels that way. I’m not used to that type of thing in relationships. 

“But, before that,” he ponders, looking toward the setting sun, “would you like a blanket? It might get chilly if we’re out here much longer.” 

I nod and return to the loveseat, waiting for him to return. I run through the conversation in my head, thinking of how to word my request. I want Josh to know that being secretive is purely necessary. I can’t leave him feeling like this is what I want because it isn’t. I don't want to hide him away; he deserves to be in the sun. 

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by him plopping down next to me, a giant quilt under one arm and a new bottle of wine under the other. He unfurls the quilt and gently tucks both of us under it before pouring us each a fresh glass of wine.  He hands me the glass, sets the bottle on the ground beside us, and turns to face me, “Okay, whatcha got?” 

I suck in a deep breath and decide just to spit it out. 

“I want to be with you,” I start, seeing a smile light up Josh’s features, “But I think we need to keep this a little bit quiet for the time being.”

He casts his eyes toward his glass and thinks briefly before responding. 

“I can see why that may be necessary,” he says as he leans forward and grabs one of my hands, entwining our fingers, “The timing of this could be perceived as suspicious.” 

I use my thumb to trace light patterns against his palm, losing myself in the feel of his soft skin as I think of how to word my following statement. 

“Mmm, just a little suspicious. I don’t want to hide you because we know the timeline of our relationship. But others won’t necessarily be so quick to trust us.”

“You do have a point, Bug,” he replies quietly, turning his eyes to his wine. 

“So, would you be okay with being discreet for just a little while? Just long enough that I can introduce you to people without accusations hanging over our heads.” 

“I think,” He cuts his eyes back to mine, and I see a twinkle of mischief dancing in them, “sneaking around could be fun. I’d quite like to keep you just to myself for a while.” 

I sighed in relief as Josh leaned forward for a quick peck. 

“Thanks, partner,” I tip my imaginary cowboy hat, and Josh bursts out laughing, his tongue slightly poking out through his teeth. 

“Though, I must warn you,” he pulls a little note out of his pocket and hands it to me, “I do believe we were being spied on earlier.”

I open it up and see 

“Bit more wine?  (Love you, Bub)”

Scrawled in messy handwriting, I immediately knew that Josh’s brother must have taken a break and been at the door before our dance. 

“Don’t worry, Bug. I trust him with my life. Our secret will be safe.”

And for some reason, I know that Josh is right. 

ATS Masterpost | The Caravel Tavern Series | Masterlist

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[queeniecook]

March 16 - Part 1

Rashidah Watson heads back to Henford-on-Bagley tomorrow. Her trip to Chestnut Ridge has been more eventful than she thought it'd be and not all of it bad. What started out looking as a disaster turned into something good when she ran into Andrew Ambrose the other day. Oddly, their time together has been replaying in her mind.

Thomas bought a horse through his boss a while back, naming her Shadowrose. Rashidah has been trying to learn how to ride the horse. It's a new experience.

She's found that she actually likes being around horses. That was something they had never had on the family farm - horses. Cows, chickens, goats and sheep but not horses. There's something calming about brushing Shadowrose that she likes.

Time with her Dad has been awkward. Especially after she's noticed how much time he's spending with Kim Goldbloom.

He admitted at breakfast that they have gone on a few dates together. While Rashidah is more than supportive of her Mom trying to kindle a possible relationship with Ukupanipo, she doesn't feel like Thomas should be dating yet. Especially after his disaster relationship with Florence Chopra, the woman who helped break up her parents' marriage.

Things had been quiet between the father and daughter all morning which has led Thomas to talk to his first born.

"Rashidah....I know you aren't happy about me seeing someone but I'm trying to move forward. So is your Mom. There's a part of me that will always love her but I know she'll never want to be with me again and I'm doing my best to accept that. I just wish...that you'd let me be your Dad again. I miss you."

Rashidah sighs, she had a feeling eventually this kind of talk would happen between them on this visit. "It's just..hard. We were a family. I know you and Mom had problems but you both were trying to work them out and then you slept with that tramp."

Silence descended like a storm cloud between the two. A minute passed as they stared at each other before Thomas spoke. "I've apologized more times than I can count and tried my best to make up for it but I can't fix it. Your Mom and I are divorced now."

Rashidah's temper flared.

"I know that! I also know you and that slut tried to take the farm from us!" She yells getting into her Dad's personal space.

"I wasn't going to take it from you and your brother and sister! It was still going to be passed on to the three of you!" Thomas responds, his temper getting the better of him. Rahmi had always been the more level headed one in the family. His first born obviously had gotten his temper. 

"And just leave Mom out in the cold?! How nice of you!" Rashidah yells before stalking off because she wanted to say more than that to her Dad, wanted to call him every name in the book but she had managed to stop herself when the faces of her siblings popped into her head. 

next ->

[masterpieceofmymlstakes]

Blood Sport: a Sleep Token-inspired short story

A/N: y'all this is barely edited and it's 1am, so I apologize for any typos that there may be

CWs: mentions of magic, one character threatens another, the MC expects to die for a decent chunk of the SS. There's really nothing major that actually happens, however

Drake stared out into the wispy gray clouds surrounding his home,  closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look down at the mainland. He had formerly lived there, before—before everything. Before the sky cracked in mourning, weeping ash over every inch of the land. Before the stars, which seemed to smile on him, fell, their seemingly perfect alignment forever lost. 

He shook his head, the familiar aching tangle of emotion tightening in his chest. “How I wish we could fix all of this, Sera,” the words tore from him almost unprompted as he fought the desire to look down and view the destruction  he had wrought.  It would only bring him further pain, although he very well deserved it.

Far below the floating Isles, past the wisps of pale, ash-laden clouds, the earth below was blackened and cracked, more like burnt skin, a harsh contrast to the lush paradise it had been so recently. And his arrogance had been responsible for that. A bitter, twisted smile curled onto his face at the thought. 

Drake had lost track of how often he’d run everything over in his mind. He’d endlessly replayed the events, wondered if perhaps he’d done something differently, perhaps if he’d been less trusting, more like she was… but no. 

“It’s far too late to change anything.” He sighed, ignoring the wrenching sensation in his chest. What was done was done, as he’d been told so very often by the Elders. He could not hope to change anything. She had made her choices clear, he had done all he could for her. 

Now, the best he could hope to do was stay in his family’s manse, out of the way, where he couldn’t possibly ruin anything else. 

“Not that it’s particularly easy to ruin anything else, after you’ve destroyed the entire world,” Drake muttered, scuffing his boot on the balcony. 

Regardless of his raising that point, all five Elders of the Mage’s Council agreed: they absolutely could not allow Drake anywhere near The Destroyer. For surely, he was the one she harbored the most hatred for. They had been lovers, after all… 

Drake had simply accepted their decree, albeit not happily He ought to pay for his arrogance in assuming he alone could foil the many plots being woven, with Sera at the center. He never should have had the audacity to—to fall in love with her. 

He’d been told many times before how foolish that would be. A person with her many gifts could not love normally. No, her kind were… different. They were not like Mages, or any other human. Beyond all of that, she’d been born Lowly. One of the Lowly, ungifted humans and a Mage? Unthinkable!

Drake had disregarded everything the Elders had told him, he’d spurned his parents wisdom, and foolishly believed he knew best. And the world had broken, because of his arrogance. 

“Drake?” A soft, tremulous voice behind him tore him from his brooding. “Your father has returned from the preliminary negotiations.” She clutched her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, very clearly not saying the negotiations with The Destroyer. They both knew quite well who the Elders would be negotiating with. 

Drake turned, leaning against the balcony railing, to face his mother, who stood in an arched doorway. “And?” He really shouldn’t speak so unkindly to her, but… everything to do with The Destroyer threw him off. He’d been born and raised to always be poised and polite, Sera had been anything but poised and polite. She’d taught him how to truly enjoy himself, to step outside of the careful mold he’d been raised to fit. 

His mother released a shaky breath, reaching up to wipe her glassy sea-blue eyes. “He wishes to speak with you. You’ll find him in his study.” With that, she withdrew into the house, leaving him to puzzle over what his father could possibly wish to discuss with him. 

He hesitated before knocking on the door to his father’s study. Facing his father had never been something Drake enjoyed. Taking a steadying breath, Drake forced himself to knock on the honey-colored double doors. 

“You may come in,” his father’s resonant voice called from inside.

Drake opened the doors tentatively, dearly wishing he could return to the days when his father ignored him and let him do as he pleased. “You wanted to see me?”

Lord Alaric Thorne, Head of the Council stood, facing his son. His posture was tense, oddly so. Drake had never seen his father appear so… hesitant did not quite seem to be the right word, and yet, he wasn’t quite sure how else to describe the way his father’s expression was so guarded, his shoulders held so rigidly back. “I did indeed,” he said finally, nodding.

            Drake resisted the urge to fidget under his father’s intense scrutiny. He couldn’t have cared much less if all other members of the Council disdained him for warning Sera, for defending her through it all. But his father? His father was different. You could not simply brush off Alaric Thorne’s disgust.

            “The Council commenced peace negotiations with The Destroyer this morning, as I am sure you’re quite aware of.” His father said, his voice rigidly neutral, not giving anything away. “She seems quite willing to consent to our requests. Her—” his voice dipped slightly, but he cleared his throat and carried on. “Her only request is that she wishes to see you, before all contact between the Isles and the Ashlands is ceased.”

            Drake felt as if someone had knocked the air out of his lungs. “She—she wants to see me?” His voice cracked and that tear in his soul wrenched  a bit farther open. Never had he thought that she would care to see him again. After all, hadn’t he been the one who’d betrayed her?

            His father hesitated for a brief instant, and nodded. “It was her only request.” He repeated.

            Drake nodded acknowledgement, his head spinning. She—no, she couldn’t want to see him. Not after he’d accidentally betrayed her! She’d sworn to get retribution against him, not to… to reconcile with him. Reconciliation had never been her way. 

Unless—his father had said this was her sole demand. Perhaps she desired his blood in exchange for allowing the Isle dwellers to live in peace. After all, they had very little with which they could earn her favor. And she had even less reason to grant them mercy, after how the Council members had trained her ruthlessly to become their weapon, then various Mages had attempted to manipulate her into beginning a war between the Lowly and themselves.

“I suppose not many would complain if that is indeed the case,” he muttered ruefully. Very few had tolerated, much less approved of his relationship with Sera, even before everything had fallen to pieces. Now… he stayed sequestered in his parents’ manor for a reason. A formerly well-loved golden child turned destroyer of worlds and lover to a traitor would rarely garner widespread public favor, as he’d learned.

Alaric cleared his throat pointedly, likely to remind Drake that he was still in his father’s presence and ought to show due respect.

“Forgive me,” Drake muttered, bowing his head in a show of deference. “Has the Council decided to accept Se—The Destroyer’s demand?”

His father nodded once, his face falling back into the rigidly composed, emotionless mask he so often wore. “Indeed we have. There was a unanimous vote to accept her demand, for the good of our kind.”

Drake met his father’s gray eyes, searching for a hint of emotion in them. He knew what motivated the Council’s rapid decision: what cost was the life of one foolish boy, who had betrayed the most powerful person on the planet, in exchange for an eternity of safety from The Destroyer? 

That knowledge didn’t lessen the hurt when he saw no trace of regret in his father eyes. 

“Very well.” Drake bowed his head once more and left his father’s study, blindly rushing through the silent, elegant halls until he made it outside, onto the footpath which led to the barn. He broke into a run, confident he wouldn’t be seen by anyone who’d care if the disgraceful Head Councilor’s son was behaving scandalously again. Not that he could do much to scandalize anyone, now. 

“Endir?” Drake called, opening the barn’s doors and stopping in the middle of the aisle, breathing in the familiar, comforting scents of hay and horse.

“What?” The heavily accented word came from a stall in the far corner. 

“You’re here,” Drake sighed, feeling some tension drain from his body as he walked towards the stall. “I fear I will pay for everything I’ve done now, Endir. And in far worse a fashion than I’d imagined…”

“What happened?” Endir stuck his head over the half door, looking quizzically at Drake, his ears akimbo. 

Drake sighed again, reaching up and patting the Pegasus’s neck. “Sera wishes to see me, before she will consent to peace between the Mages and herself.”

Endir snorted, backing up as far as his stall would allow, and flaring his white-gray wings. “She what? Doesn’t she hate you?”

A bitter half-smile curled across Drake’s face. “Ah, and that is precisely why I fear she wishes to see me. Father and the Council are so desperate to broker peace that they will not hesitate to sacrifice me.”

Endir let out a low nicker. “I do believe you’ve found yourself stuck in a game you can’t win for once, Drake.”

“Ah, I am quite aware I’ve trapped myself in this game.” Drake sighed, leaning against the stall. “This is far more than a game, though. I fear I’ve begun a sort of… a—a blood sport between us. And I cannot yet say who will win.”

The day came far sooner than Drake had hoped. His father sent him a message via a servant, with orders to appear before the Council, one evening, not long after the initial shock.

Drake stared at the parchment in his hand with a curious mix of relief and dread. Here was his death warrant, signed in his father’s narrow hand. He ought only to feel dread. Shouldn’t he? That would seem to be the natural reaction to having confirmation of your impending doom. 

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled, crumpling the note in one hand. “She’s destroyed everything, shouted in my face she’d kill me if she saw me again. She broke magic itself, for starsake.” 

A fragment of memory rose to the surface in his mind. A flash of Sera, face contorted with rage, arms outstretched, her dark hair whipping in the fierce winds around her, fire flowing in sheets from her body, which looked breakable and small in comparison to the raw power around her. The ground cracked and broke under her feet, gouts of white-hot lava spewing into the air. Yet, she wasn’t afraid. The only thing he saw in her dark eyes was fury.

Drake couldn’t stop himself from shivering at the memory. That was what awaited him. A girl who had somehow broken the laws of nature and magic both, who commanded flame with her hand and beasts with her mind. A girl who had been destined for tragedy, as were all born with power far greater than they ought to have. A girl who had refused the life set out for her by others, who had instead chosen to set her own rules. A girl who had singlehandedly turned the earth into a scorched, ruined mess. A girl who had sworn to end him when she saw him next. 

A girl he thought he’d once loved.

Terror would be the appropriate response. It ought to be the only thing in his mind right now. 

But instead, Drake almost felt… relief. “This shouldn’t feel so oddly… right,” he muttered to Endir as he swung onto the Pegasus’s back. 

“Shouldn’t it?” Endir retorted, launching into the air without warning. 

Drake shouted an impolite word, reaching for his thick gray mane. “I suppose not? It’s tragically poetic that I would pay for my arrogance by the hand of the one who I sacrificed it all for.”

“Both of you were destined for an epic poem from the moment you met,” the Pegasus snorted, his wingbeats and the wind nearly drowning out his words. 

Drake smiled a little, the wound in his soul twinging again. Yes, he and Sera had indeed made a fine epic. 

The golden child of the Mages, born to rule and wield his craft for the good of all and the girl born of the Lowly, with a gift that could either save or condemn the human race forever. They could have become gods on earth, saviors. 

But no. Something greater, be it gods or fate, decreed otherwise. 

They’d been caught in this blood sport, tangled with all the things they’d never said to one another, two stars on a collision course. This could only end in tears, and the both of them knew it.

Endir lurched under him in midair and Drake yelped, dragged from his thoughts by the threat of nearly falling into thin air.

“Stop being dramatic,” Endir ordered. “We’re nearly to the Citadel, for the love of all, don’t play the part of the tortured, melodramatic hero.”

“Perhaps I am a tortured, melodramatic hero,” Drake protested, grinning faintly. “Or perhaps it’s easier to imagine myself that way, rather than to acknowledge the reality of what and who I am.”

Endir tucked his wings, sending them into a free fall for a few brief seconds, hurtling nearer to the verdant grass of the Isles below, before snapping his wings out again, roughly sending them into a glide. “What did I just say about being dramatic?” 

“I know, I know,” Drake shook his head, squinting through the chill mist around them. Was that vague, dark shape he saw through the mist the Citadel? He shivered, dreading this part of his ordeal. Sera, he could face. He could accept his well-deserved fate, if she were the one to deal it. But this? Drake could think of little else he’d hate more than facing the entirety of the Council and feeling their judgement.

After all, were they not the ones truly responsible for the way of things now? Had they not elected to see Sera as nothing other than a weapon, an asset they could use, something Mage warlords would fight over, none of this would have occurred. There would have been no Cataclysm. The earth would be whole. Their people would not be forced to live on these few small Isles floating in thin air, suspended by the few vestiges of uncorrupted magic they’d manage to muster. 

“Fools,” Endir muttered, snorted disgustedly. 

Drake managed a half smile. Neither he nor Endir took advantage of their shared bond often, but he certainly wouldn’t complain in this instance. Simply having the Pegasus read his emotions was far easier in this instance than attempting to explain everything. Quantifying emotion into the form of words was not something Drake would consider himself skilled at, let alone something he enjoyed.

“Almost there.” Endir said after a few more moments. “Took a long route, it’ll do them some good to have to wait for someone,”

“Unless they choose to see that as yet another reason why I’m the ideal sacrifice,” Drake muttered, old, tired bitterness rising to from wherever it’d been hiding. “See how disrespectful he is? He has no respect for the authority of this Council!”

Endir snorted again, angling downward. He didn’t say a word, yet Drake could feel his disgust through their bond.

“I appreciate it, old friend.” He said.

“Yeah. When we flying down to the mainland?” Endir asked, gliding down onto the emerald green grass outside the Citadel, and coming to a halt. 

Drake shrugged, sliding off him, and glancing over at the massive obsidian pavilion. “Whenever the Council decides they’ve had enough of me, I suppose.”

“Hurry it up, smells like a storm.” The Pegasus ordered, stomping a hoof. “The sky’s cracking again, wouldn’t be surprised if there’ll be a lightning storm soon.”

“That would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?” Drake murmured, smiling wryly as he brushed the wrinkles out of his suit as best he could. One could only do so much when you’d been riding horseback. Not that the Council really cared all that much if he appeared immaculately presented in front of them, they all knew how he’d end the day, anyway. 

Sighing, he took a final deep breath, before starting up the stone stairs that led up a gentle hill, to the Citadel and the Council.

“Drake Thorne.” His father’s voice rolled through the elaborately constructed pavilion. “The Council is most pleased to see you deemed us worthy of being honored with your presence.”

“I wouldn’t dream of disregarding your summons,” Drake obediently dropped to a knee in front of the array of five thrones on the dais in the middle of the pavilion. He had, actually, dreamed of disregarding the summons many times. Wouldn’t it be easier to simply fly to the mainland—or, he supposed most called it the Ashlands now. Not an unfitting name, given how the Cataclysm had ruined it—instead of coming here to listen to the Elder Mages give dry, empty speeches about how his sacrifice would be appreciated and would surely be for the greater good?

“The Council wishes to extend several blessings prior to your departure for the Ashlands,’ Alaric Thorne continued, not bothering to rise from his simple wooden throne. “Firstly, we acknowledge how selfless it is of you to accept this calling. The Isles will be eternally free of The Destroyer, as a result of your choose to obey the summons. We cannot express our gratitude for this act enough.”

I am sure you cannot, Drake though, fighting to keep his face from reflecting his thoughts. The Council truly did seem so very appreciative. Councilor Caelo even appeared half asleep, he was so moved. Really, they all seemed overcome by his selflessness. 

“Secondly, we wish to tell you that we have learned from the pattern of events which have led us here.” His father continued. “No longer will the Council view individuals as mere assets. Those among our number who wished to orchestrate wars between our kind and the Lowly have been either removed from office, or placed under probation.”

Drake couldn’t stop himself from jerking his head up to stare at his father, searching for sincerity in his eyes. Had the Council really learned from the Cataclysm? Would they truly seek to remove the warmongers amongst themselves and their advisors? 

Alaric allowed a smile to cross his face for an instant, as he stared down at his son from the dais. “We realize we were misguided and will, in the future, seek to make less unfortunate decisions. As such, we no longer intend to search among the Lowly for those of our kind, or with abilities similar to those of The Destroyer.”

Not overly surprising. Once you were responsible for nearly destroying the world, it would be unlikely you'd wish to repeat that situation, Drake thought. Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d have the opportunity to meet any Lowly. The Mages had all retreated onto the Isles as soon as they’d realized the Cataclysm would be irreparable, using the last vestiges of their magic to salvage what was left of their cities, and retreating into the air, and abandoning the Lowly to raging fires and lava flows.

“That is quite gratifying to hear,” he said, bowing his head and trying to keep his tone as respectful as possible.

“The Council wishes you to know that we are striving to build a better world, to prevent more tragedies like the Cataclysm.” Alaric said, a flicker of some emotion in his gray eyes. “This sacrifice you will likely be making is not something we take lightly, Drake Thorne.” Was that… actual emotion in his father’s voice? A slight catch in his throat?

Drake had thought his father’s impenetrable mask was just that—impenetrable. Perhaps not. Perhaps the mask could be broken, if only in the face of sacrificing his only son. He nodded once, the motion jerky and rough, as his throat tightened and his eyes prickled, warning of tears. 

The entirety of the Council rose, all five members holding one another’s hands and speaking in unison. “We, the Elders of the Mages, do send you, Drake Thorne, our blessing. May you ever be bold. We will not allow your name to be forgotten.” Pale, nearly translucent magic rose from their clasped hands, swirling tremulously through the air and circling Drake. It eventually settled over him, the sensation not unlike walking through a cloud.

He shivered slightly as the magic’s warmth settled into his core. He’d forgotten what magic felt like. Even summoning such a small amount of it as this was a feat now, after the Cataclysm. What magic remained in the world now was tainted, stained an ugly blackish gray. It rotted all it touched, slowly poisoning it. But somehow, the Elders had preserved this one, small bit, to send with him and embolden him. 

“Thank you,” Drake cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. He bowed once more, then departed the Citadel, walking down the steps in a daze.

“How bad was it?” Endir asked, not bothering to look up as he grazed on the Citadel’s lawn. 

Drake shrugged, still feeling vaguely as if he were floating, courtesy of the magic the Elders had gifted him. It’d soon wear off, but he certainly enjoyed the warm rush of courage for now. “Better than I anticipated,” 

“That’s a first.” Endir looked up, tufts of grass hanging out of his mouth. “Shall we fly?’

“I fear we must.” Drake nodded, grabbing a hank of his mane and swinging onto Endir’s back.

“OW!” The Pegasus complained, half-bucking in protest. “You know that hurts.”

“Forgive me, I am a touch preoccupied,” Drake retorted.

Endir snorted, clearly not accepting the excuse. “Where to, milord?” He asked, the sarcasm in his words evident, despite his heavy inhuman accent. 

Drake blinked. He hadn’t thought to ask the Council where he was to meet The Destroyer. 

Then again… Sera would find him, no matter where he flew. Of that, he had no doubt. 

“What if…” he cleared his throat, irritated by how choked up he sounded. “What if we fly to the former Citadel, on the mainland?” That is where we first met, after all. Would it not be appropriate to end it all where we began?

“Ahh, hoping to play off nostalgia, are you?” Endir asked, starting off at a trot, then smoothly flowing into a lope, before leaping into the air.

“Perhaps,” Drake said softly, the wind created by Endir’s wingbeats stealing his words away. In truth, he was not sure what it was that made him desire to fly to the old Citadel, if it still stood. He simply had a strong urge to fly there, meet her for the last time among the ashes of where they’d first met. 

That would be quite in keeping with the nature of their tragedy, would it not?

“Wanna take a last look?” Endir called, pausing their descent and holding steady in midair. “The Isles sure are beautiful at this time,”

“A last look,” Drake repeated, something twisting in his gut. He glanced over at the three Isles, suspended in midair by magic. They truly were beautiful, the last vestige of the heaven the Mages had once lived in. Verdant fields, small ranges of mountains, perfectly pure, clean streams that flowed off the edge, and large estates dotted the Isles. They were perfect, truly. And they would remain perfect. They must. 

The setting sun bathed everything in a bloody red-orange light, reminding Drake that he still had sins yet to atone for.

“That’s enough of a look, carry on,” he mumbled to Endir, looking away from the Isles. It would do him no good to continue to drink in the sight of his home, remind him of what he would be losing. 

“If you say so,” Endir shook his head, then resumed their looping, lazy descent towards the mainland.

In contrast with the pristine beauty of the Isles, the mainland was desolate. The Cataclysm had truly ruined the land. The earth itself cracked, blackened and burned, with veins of white-hot magma flowing beneath its surface. Here and there, Drake could see the ruins of forests, or towns. Everything had burned, leaving seared, tragic skeletal reminders of what once had been. 

Endir let out a long, low nicker as they drew closer to the surface. “You sure there’s any of Sera left, Drake? The Sera we knew would rather die than do this.”

Drake was silent. He honestly didn’t know how to answer Endir. Was the Pegasus right? Had The Destroyer taken over, leaving no trace of his best friend behind? Or… had Sera always had this potential for destruction somewhere inside? What if she was still herself somehow, against all odds?

He was very nearly inclined to believe Sera had always had that anger, that destructive rage. He’d seen bits of it, before everything had fallen in ruins around them, and she’d snapped, earning herself the nickname The Destroyer. But perhaps he was simply attempting to justify her actions, not wanting to acknowledge what she’d done.

“Better stop brooding lover boy, we’re almost there,” Endir quipped. 

“Yes, yes,” Drake sighed, the tangle of emotions in his chest tightening farther. He did recognize the landscape about them, or, he thought he did. Attempting to trace familiar landmarks in this scarred, barren new land was not easy.

Yet, he thought that clump of bare, skeletal trees over there did seem familiar. Perhaps it’d once been the grove of trees at the beginning of the path to the Citadel.

Sure enough, after several more seconds of flight, Drake spotted the blackened fingers of the once graceful arches that formed the old Citadel clawing into the sky a short distance ahead of them. 

He breathed in deeply, coughing on the ash. How different things were, now… the Citadel had once been at the center of a bustling, beautiful city. Fountains, paved roads, well-cared for shrubbery had once all been below. And now… nothing but the earth’s cracked, burnt skin sticking up in scorched, irregular patches. Lava even pooled in some places. 

Had Drake not known better, he would have sworn this was not the former Mages’ Capitol. How could it be? The Capitol had been known for its beauty; how perfect it was. Magic had lain heavy upon the city, gilding everything and bringing a sense of peace, of timelessness. 

But no, he could see the harsh reality of that seemingly immortal city now. And he shuddered at it. 

If something so large, so seemingly unchanging, could be brough to this, what more could she do to him? 

“Get ready, I do believe I see your ladylove awaiting us,” Endir warned, pulling his wings in as they drew near to the base of the hill the former Citadel had been built upon.

“I fear I am as prepared as I may ever be,” Drake breathed in again, more slowly this time to avoid inhaling more ash. He closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to hone in on the small, lingering remnant of warm, golden magic in his chest. 

He could do this. He must. 

The other Mages must survive. And his sacrifice would ensure their survival. 

“Farewell, Endir.” Drake slid off the pegasus’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely. Hot tears pricked his eyes as he clung to Endir. “You have been my truest friend.”

Endir curled his wings around Drake, wrapping him a cocoon of warmth and comfort. “Life won’t be the same without you, old friend,” the Pegasus nickered, his accent so heavy Drake could barely make out his words. 

“At least I will not have to carry on without you,” Drake attempted a half-smile as he pulled away. In truth, he could not fathom a life without Endir. The two had been bound nearly since birth, they’d shared all. They were as close to one being as two separate creatures could become. 

“Shut up,” Endir ordered, flaring his nostrils and stamping, sending up a puff of ash. “It  isn’t funny, Drake.”

“I am well aware,”  Drake said quietly, still not moving towards the uneven, ashy path that led to the Citadel. 

He could quite clearly see a single pair of footprints in the thick layer of ash, which seemed to cover nearly everything on the mainland. They did refer to it as the Ashlands for a reason, he supposed. 

“Just—get it over with.” Endir ordered, turning his back to Drake. 

“I will.” Drake glanced up the hill, at the distant Citadel, and the girl who surely awaited him there. He could feel Endir’s anguish ripping through him, so he forced himself to turn and begin the trek up to his fate. If he delayed much longer, the pain he and Endir shared would be too much to overcome. He must carry on, or risk enflaming Sera’s wrath. And Drake could not allow himself to be so selfish as to condemn his people to an eternal war with The Destroyer. Not when he had been the one who created her, in part. 

No, it was only right that he do this. It would be a fitting end.

Drake did not pause until he made it to the ash-strewn, shattered steps that led into the Citadel, no matter how harsh the climb was. He hadn’t anticipated how difficult walking uphill in thick, smooth ash would be. Finally allowing himself to stop and catch his breath, he stood at the base of his final, short ascent, and looked up. 

She was there. Waiting for him, at the top of the short set of scorched marble stairs. A small figure silhouetted against the rusty red of the sky, dark hair whipping in the wind around her as she watched.

Drake’s breath caught as she locked her gaze with his, an achingly familiar smile spreading across her face. Perhaps his Sera was still alive.

He began to ascend the stairs, still not breaking eye contact with her. Drake stopped just shy of the top, of entering the Citadel’s ruins. He licked his dry lips, breathless once again. “Wi—will you invite me in?” He asked, his words running into one another, as his emotions tangled themselves farther. 

She had once asked the same thing of himself, albeit years ago. A tiny Lowly girl, so very out of place in this city of magic. And yet she’d had the audacity to demand the son of the Head of the Council of Mages allowed her in the Citadel itself. 

She must have recognized the words, because she blinked, and again, Drake saw the old Sera, the one he’d known and loved. “But of course, Lord Thorne,” Sera said mockingly, dipping in a half bow and gesturing for him to enter the ruins. 

“Don’t do this, Sera.” Drake whispered, his throat tightening again. He shook his head, fixing his gaze on her. “Please, please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She snapped, her eyes flashing from their normal gray to a vivid orange. “Don’t treat you as you deserve?”

Drake shook his head again, closing his eyes for an instant, before finally stepping up onto the Citadel itself. He kept a careful distance between them. “No… let me pay for my arrogance in believing I could save the both of us, but not like this. Please.” He hated how his voice wavered, how desperate he sounded.

“Like what?” Sera’s voice softened slightly and he could see the tension draining every so slowly from her body. 

“Do not treat me as an enemy, Sera. I know quite well why I am here. I deserve to be here. Oh, how I deserve to be here—” Drake let out a half-strangled laugh, tears welling in his eyes. 

“At least you can acknowledge that.” Her voice sharpened again.

“Sera, please,” Drake’s voice wavered and he shook his head, fighting back all the emotions that wished to overwhelm him. “I fully deserve whatever you have in mind for me. I deserve to choke on my own blood and cough up chunk of my own sin. I just beg of you—hasten my end?” 

Sera turned her back to him, looking silently out over the endless, blackened, ashy plains. “You’re my favorite regret.” Her voice was soft, her tone different from the harsh one she’d been using. 

Drake froze. He’d been half expecting her to pull a blade from somewhere, or summon a ball of fire, not… this. 

“Still?” He queried, hardly daring to speak. “Despite all I’ve done?”

She nodded, still not facing him. “I fear we made this something far larger than we’d ever anticipated. We’ve turned what was once an innocent, childish game to… to this.” Her voice caught and her posture stiffened again. 

Drake nodded slowly, barely daring to trust the faint threat of hope that had begun to form. This did not sound senseless, like a creature that liv ed only to ruin. No, this sounded like his Sera. “We’ve turned what ought to be natural, something beautiful into a ruin.”

“We’ve always been good at that.” A thread of bitterness wound its way into Sera’s voice.

A thousand words, all the things Drake had wished he could’ve told her, came to mind. He opened his mouth, meaning to spill out everything, all of his regrets, how he wished he could go back, mend it all, force their stars to align… but no. None of that would change what had already been done.

“I made loving you a blood sport, Sera.” He said finally, his voice low. “We’re both caught in this pattern, holding a blade, daring the other to move, wary of drawing the first blood...” Drake bowed his head, studying the streaks of ash on the gray, discolored marble floor. “And I… I cannot win this, Sera.”

It was odd, how his chest simultaneously ached, and yet felt lighter, with that admission. He’d known for quite some time that he could not hope to win this blood sport. Why else should he find himself here, at the mercy of the girl he’d once loved, yet who now hated him with a passion? 

He heard the rustling of cloth, and squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating a death blow. It was no more than he deserved. Besides, he would prefer to die by the hand of one who had once loved him. This was right. How things shouldend. 

Drake must’ve unconsciously been holding his breath, for his chest began to ache after what felt like an eternity. Why did she drag it out so? 

His lungs burned, demanding air, so he gave in, gasping in  a lungful of sour, ashy tasting air. Drake looked up slowly, hesitantly, fully expecting to see Sera holding a blade level with his throat. 

He’d been wrong.

Instead, Sera’s face was contorted in some odd mixture of emotions and she held a hand out. He could not begin to guess at what she felt, or what made her choose mercy. 

Drake reached up, clasping her outstretched hand and slowly standing. Some part of him still believed this was naught but a trick, some twisted way of forcing him to realize the depths of agony she must have undergone. But no.

“I cannot win, either,” Sera’s voice was hoarse and unshed tears welled in her gray eyes. “I do not believe either of us could win this blood sport if we tried, Drake.”

He nodded, too choked on the tangle of things he’d never said, to speak. The mess of emotion cleared after a few heartbeats, and he finally managed words. “Would that we could roll the numbers again, or force our stars to align once more.”

“To feel our stars align once more…” Sera shook her head slowly, her voice still hoarse and choked. 

            “Perhaps we could force them to align again!” Drake said suddenly, a fierce wave of determination overtaking him. He would not lose her again. He could not bear it!  “We could wrench the heavens themselves open—”

            “No.” Sera cut him off, shaking her head. “The heavens just won’t open up, not for one like me, Drake. You  ought to know this. The gods favor those who do good, not those who…” she thrust a hand out, waving at the destruction around them. “Not those who ruin all they touch, who sear the life out of everything.”

            “That isn’t—” Drake blinked, not sure where she’d gotten the idea that all she could do was destroy. He didn’t even know if he believed in the ancient gods, not when they seemed so distant. If they could not be bothered to intervene during the Cataclysm, why ought anyone worship them? Sera was much more a god than the beings of mythos he’d been raised to believe in. 

            “Stop.” Sera’s voice was sharp, and sparks flashed around her hands. 

Drake noticed her irises flicker from gray to orange and he swallowed hard, battling the desire to step back. Perhaps the Elders hadn’t been wrong, after all. She’d never before threated him in this way, not so directly. Shouted threats were one thing, igniting a fire was something wholly different.

            “I meant what I said, earlier,” she tilted her head, her expression shifting from fierce to something…  else. Perhaps mournful? Her eyes were full of raw, dark pain. “You are still my favorite regret, Drake Thorne. In another world, another universe, perhaps…”

            “I don’t have to be only a regret, Sera,” Drake shook his head, swallowing hard against the knot of emotion in his throat. “You do not have to play the role they’ve cast you in, there’s no need to be The Destroyer!”

            “What if I wish to be The Destroyer?” She shouted, glaring at him, her palms briefly igniting, orange-red flames dancing over her skin. “What if I hated Sera, and all that was expected of her? What then, Master Thorne?”

            Drake felt as if she’d struck him hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. “Wh—what?” He shook his head, desperate to hear her familiar laugh, to hear her brush it off as merely a joke.

            Sera closed her eyes and the flames in her hands slowly diminished. When she opened her eyes again, Drake could see the raw pain in their fiery orange depths. “Do you ever stop to consider what it must feel like to have had the weight of the world on your shoulders since you were a child? Imagine being born Lowly, discovering you have gifts unlike any seen before. Telepathy with dragons, pyrokinesis. Truly, she has been blessed by the gods!” Her face twisted into a bitter sneer. “This is not a blessing, Drake. None of it is. I have been cursed from the moment of my birth.”

            “You were never a curse to me,” Drake promised, his heart aching for her. How he wished he could make her see that she had never been anything but a blessing to him! “Never, Sera.”

            “It doesn’t matter.” Sera let out a short, bitter laugh. 

            His gaze drifted down to the scuffed, charred floor they stood upon. Drake felt as if he would explode from the mess of writhing, conflicting emotions plaguing him. He’d come here anticipating a well-deserved death, yet it seemed that would not be his fate. Now, he truly was not sure what his fate would be. Or anyone’s fate, for that matter. This had not been so straightforward as he’d once thought.

            “So, what then?” Drake forced himself to look up, to meet her eyes again. He’d once known and loved her so well, yet her eyes had changed. He hadn’t wished to acknowledge it, but he could deny it no longer. His Sera had changed. She was harder now. More pitiless.

            She spread her hands in a half-shrug. “I do believe we shall both carry on with our lives. I have no wish to be forgiven for what I have done. I am well aware that I am only a weapon, Drake. If your Elders know that I am not a weapon to be wielded by their hands, then I am content.”

            “I do believe you’ve gotten that point across quite well.” Drake barely resisted the urge to let out a half-crazed laugh as he surveyed the wreckage around them. Peace? Was that really what she spoke of? 

            “Then we both continue on with our lives. I will not touch your Isles unless provoked to do so, you Mages will not do to any other Lowly children what was done to me. Understood?” She raised a challenging eyebrow.

            Drake nodded. Words would not add anything but tension to this moment. He almost felt as if he would ruin it, she would change her mind, if he were to speak. 

            “Farewell, my favorite regret.” Sera said, a faint note of sorrow in her voice. 

            “Goodbye, my weapon of choosing,” Drake bowed his head to her, then turned and began to make his way down the steps. He had not anticipated anything which had transpired, to the contrary; nearly the opposite of what he’d anticipated had occurred. 

           And yet… it seemed a fitting end to their epic. They had both made the other bleed many, many times, until this… could he really call it a truce? Drake could not say. All he knew was that neither of them had won this blood sport. Yet, it certainly had not been an all-around defeat, either. 

Perhaps they had been destined for this fate, drawn together by some quantum pattern, forced into this blood sport known as love by their own arrogance. 

What a tragic tale the both of them made. 

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

Character Breakdown | Open

@dezimaton asked: :3c for char breakdown meme: rosso (FF7) ?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING, because my feelings for this character has grown and shifted over the years!

-How I feel about this character- See, when I first started playing the game, she was cool and interesting, but was a bad guy against Vincent and that's about as far as my brain went. She was just a blood-loving psycho to me, and I could never decide if her accent was cheesy or enjoyable.

Now? I adore her? Like I do most the Tsviets, or at least what I like to see as the original three (I don't actually know the timeline, my I like to see Weiss and Nero as the top dogs and Rosso being the closest to their level, with respect). But idk, its come from some roleplays, and replays, and story analysis, but also fully letting it sit in (which applies to all Deepground characters) that yes she's crazy and enjoys battle and spilling blood, but why wouldn't she? Brought up and trained and tortured as she was? But I fucking love her. She's beautiful. She's badass. She has her own weird form of honor, and I thoroughly enjoy her.

-All the people I ship romantically with this character- I've never really thought of shipping, to be honest, that much for her! Only shipping I've managed to imagine is, by roleplay randomness, my failed-tsviet OC being deeply, sapphicly dependent and obsessed/in love with her and Rosso having her own affection in return. Absolutely toxic, but in a devoted way? XD

Beyond that, like I said, I haven't really thought about it! But since the OC shipping, I'm now inclined to see her as more a woman's woman, so perhaps I'd consider other female characters, if any could handle her lol.

-My non-romantic OTP for this character- Absolutely headcanon, but I like to imagine her and Nero have their own version of friendship...? They are very loyal, Nero holds absolutely loyalty to Weiss of course above all others. But I like to imagine he looks at Rosso as one of the few people at least managing to stand with them. And Rosso feels the same, she puts them both, especially Weiss, on a pedestal of greatness in their torture-born culture. Nero is right there beside him, but for different reasons. She would do just about anything for them. She is fond, to a degree, of the other Tsviets, but beyond that, she just sees the world as things to taunt, challenge, defeat, and/or kill, and she's eager to do it.

Again, of course, in scenarios paired with my OC, I imagine her as protective and possessive and waiting to lead her into their world. Might protect her from what she deems unnecessary, and will otherwise support her and push her through everything else.

-My unpopular opinion about this character- I don't have many opinions about her? Much less do I have enough experience thinking about her and exploring her to know what would be an unpopular opinion. Other than maybe she should almost be on par with popularity and fanart and attention as Weiss and Nero. Maybe not AT the same level lol, but, still. She's enjoyable.

-One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.- I think the only things I'd want for her going forward, kind of applies to the other Tsviets as well. I want more screen time and with that or in that, I want more exploration of the characters. The Tsviets and Deepground are such a sad, enthralling batch of characters! Are they blood thirsty and dangerous? Technically, yes! Could they be classified on some spectrum of psychosis? I'm not a professionly, but probably! Is that their fault? HELL NO. You raised someone to bite or be bitten for most their life, they're gonna become a biter.

Others have said this, but honestly, feels like Deepground and the top Tsviets are the biggest ShinRa victims of them all, and every time I think about that, it makes me wanna write shit about them! So if I could see Rosso with her incestual besties wreaking some horrible havoc in the next game? That would be delightful! Unlikely, but delightful XD