#i think i will pour some of my feelings and contemplations about loneliness into an original comic. i keep meaning to. for me. i guess

[lunarharp]

scrappies cause HE'S BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 📖

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - hisoka morow x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? i roll with cringe. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this a bit too long, but who cares?? i have time, you have time and an incandescent loneliness to fill, so let’s get into it!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with hisoka, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part one of a three-part series, with the adultrio. illumi and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! i’m afraid there’s no nsfw here... keep in mind it’s hisoka - i kept it as pg as possible... may be ooc i’m sorry :)

hisoka morow:

- you arrived at your hotel room, tired from the trip there, not quite sure what to expect. you stared at the single bed placed in the middle of the room, aghast. there must have been some kind of mistake. except there wasn’t. the room had been booked out of simplicity, with no specification on the number of beds, or anything else for that matter.

- and, of course, the man you had booked this room with was none other than hisoka morow.

- otherwise known as the most flirtatious man on earth.

- a little bit of backstory; as your strictly professional colleague, hisoka was always taunting you with his charming little phrases, treating you like his little toy whom he could mess around with.

- “oh, y/n! whatever will we do~?” 

- you sighed in frustration. out of all the people you could have been stuck with on this trip, it had to be hisoka.

- hisoka sighed and pouted - not from worry or anguish - but, rather, to mock you. you shot him a dirty look.

- “my my, y/n... why so serious? it’s not like i’ll do anything~”

- the playful lilt in his voice suggested otherwise.

- while hisoka went off to take a shower, you busied yourself with your latest objective; making sure he couldn’t pull anything. being inventive as you were, you gathered all the pillows from the bed (which, for some reason, there were many of), and built a wall separating the two sides of the mattress.

- you got changed promptly, and lay on the left side of the bed, waiting for hisoka to come back. however, his shower ran for longer than expected, and soon enough you felt yourself becoming drowsy.

- just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard hisoka’s voice come from the other side of the room.

- he chuckled. “y/n, what do we have here? your latest invention~?” he teased, ridiculing you.

- “i don’t trust you.” you stated plainly, staring up at the ceiling. you couldn’t see him from across the strangely high pillow wall you had made, but you could feel him smirking. 

- “...and for good reason, y/n..” 

- he extended his arm and lazily ejected his bungee gum to attach to the pillows, knocking them over in an instant. damn. you thought you had made a pretty good structure. 

- you rolled over lethargically to see him standing there; what a sight.

- honestly, you didn’t mind hisoka. it was just... he often became... annoying. as much as he irritated you, you had to admit he was quite pretty. striking amber eyes, streaky plum hair that fell across his face, soft lips and an overall impressive facial structure. not to mention his unique fashion sense that somehow accentuated his toned body. porcelain skin, with his childish paint, which was so often called on by you - “hisoka, do you put that on every goddamn morning?” - he was a fine man. 

- but, when that bastard opened his mouth.

- what a contrary tale.

- he waltzed closer to the bed and eventually sat down with his legs crossed, like a child in a classroom - except, he was staring down at you, who was scowling at him.

- “hisoka. don’t pull anything. i’m going to sleep.” you ordered, rolling to your other side so you were now facing away from him.

- “oh y/n... but how could i resist you~?” he joked, lying down on his back, unnecessarily close to you. you tensed up. 

- “hisoka.” you warned. except you didn’t really sound like you were warning anyone. some undertones in your voice urged you to let things happen - for an uncertain millisecond, thoughts of letting hisoka do what he wanted plagued your mind.

- the millisecond passed soon enough.

- the jester turned to his side, so you were both facing the same direction and began whispering in your ear with a smile. why was his voice so... smooth? so succinct and mellow? that was not the type of person he was. so why did you want to melt into him? he giggled childishly. 

- “so... y/n... you wouldn’t mind if i did-”

- “-this!”

- all of a sudden, hisoka was embracing you, cuddling you and shoving his idiotic face into the crook of your neck.

- “HISOKA, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO GET OFF ME.”

- “oh, but if you wanted me off, couldn’t you simply give me a little kick~?”

- bright idea, madman. bright idea.

- you kicked him in the stomach, which invoked no painful reaction, but prompted him to roll to the other side of the bed, letting you escape from his clutches. 

- “ah. y/n, that hurt~” he exhaled tiredly, feigning offence; it was more of a hum, which escaped his mouth like golden honey pouring from a dipper.

- “good. don’t come near me again.” 

- “if that’s what you want, darling~”

- “don’t call me that, morow.” you glowered.

- “how scary... good night, y/n.”

- despite trying to hide it underneath his complacent ego, hisoka was beginning to worry. the man was attracted to essentially everyone, but something pulled him closer to you especially. you had a certain magnetism about you that he found increasingly attractive. why did he find teasing you so... enjoyable? why did he long for you to reciprocate? thoughts such as these had been swarming his subconscious since the beginning of the trip. he had pushed away such speculation, for it didn’t suit him.

- a man like him, a man who killed so depravedly, a man whom nothing was known about, an enigma of sorts; surely a man like that didn’t deserve to truly love. 

- meanwhile, your brain was a motor engine; what had just happened, and why did you let it go on for so long? you had the reflexes of an expert nen user; so why did you let him stay there, nuzzling into you, before socking him in the gut?

- what a conundrum, for the both of you. looks like this cliche is reaching its peak, hm?

- you fell asleep soon enough; after all, the trip had been long and you were tired. not only physically, but also emotionally. hisoka wasn’t helping your case.

- hisoka himself often had trouble sleeping, which many people didn’t know. most nights, he just lay there solemnly, thinking of new card tricks or enticements for new victims.

- lately, however, he had been thinking of you.

- which he didn’t like at all.

- time passed as his mind whirred while he contemplated who you were, and why you made him so impressionable. suddenly, he heard something.

- he had his back turned to you but heard a shuffling of bedsheets. what time was it? 1am? 2am? he couldn’t tell, but he came to the conclusion that you moved around when you slept and left it at that.

- that was, until, he felt someone cling around his back and reach across his chest firmly, wrapping around his waist with their leg.

- that someone was you.

- if only you knew what you were doing, you would be appalled... maybe a little grateful... but for the most part, appalled.

- your soft breath brushed hisoka’s back delicately, making his nerves transform into an quivery yet arrogant smirk. your arm was wrapped around his chest and your leg was draped across his side. you were obviously deeply sleeping. he couldn’t see you from the way you were embracing his back, but he could have easily woken you up at any given moment.

- so, why didn’t he wake you up?

- maybe it was because he could tease you about it in the morning. yeah. that seemed reasonable. that seemed alike to what hisoka would usually do.

- or maybe it was something else, something he didn’t want to come to terms with, something panging within his heart, something festering inside of him, something that was a victim to his ignorance of emotion. 

- much like he had done to you earlier, you burrowed into his shoulder, sighing contentedly, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

- blissfully unaware of the way you were ruling over hisoka, the way you were confusing him and making his emotions a tumultuous mess.

- surprisingly, you clinging to him helped him sleep, and within 15 minutes, hisoka was out like a light. though neither of you were conscious enough to experience it, those few hours you spent embracing each other felt tranquil. it almost felt normal, or like something that should have happened long ago, but never did.

- as peaceful as those hours were, the moment you woke up, everything crumbled into chaos. complete and utter mayhem - at least, on your part.

- you woke up calmly enough, as one usually does, without realising where you were or what you were doing. but, as soon as you registered that you weren’t hugging a pillow, but in fact a person, your reflexes triggered and you abruptly let go, jolting backwards and upright.

- oh my god. 

- not just a person.

- hisoka morow.

- you stared at him dozing away, like the little jerk he was.

- what had he done to you? had he put you under some spell? no, that wouldn’t make sense. he was a transmuter, not a manipulator. the bastard probably didn’t even know how to manipulate. then, what was it? was it his dumb bungee gum? your mind was racing 100 miles per hour, so you sat on the left side of the bed, sullen and confused.

- your side of the bed. the left side. the side you had so protectively proclaimed as “your side”. yet there you had been, on his side of the bed, cuddling him? what type of sorcery had he used to make you embrace him so passionately? 

- facing the wall, you rationalised yourself. hisoka wouldn’t have done anything, right? but neither would you. right? right?

- “awake, are we?” 

- hisoka interrupted your disarray of thoughts. you stood up and turned to look at him. he was propped up on the header of the bed, staring at you composedly. with those amber eyes. what was he on? why was he doing this to you?

- “you...” you began accusing him but couldn’t finish. looking at hisoka, he seemed... well-rested for once. did he even know what had happened? was he waiting for you to admit something?

- “i...? i what, y/n? use your words~” he cooed mischievously.

- oh, the jackass. he definitely knew.

- you glared at him, unable to compile your thoughts into words. you watched as he stood up and walked toward you, until he was standing opposite you, gazing into your eyes. he smiled knowingly at you, causing an surge of emotions to rush up your throat, inciting you to say something, to do something, anything. 

- “did you...”

- “no, y/n. it was you.” he simpered.

- oh.

- he raised his hand and pat you on the head, a sly and righteous smirk ceasing to wipe off his lips. he left to the bathroom, leaving you standing there, mouth agape, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. or perhaps, better said, in confusion. when did you start clinging to people like that? 

- why... did you feel so at home? when you first woke up, something had been different. some sort of warmth had enveloped you, in your heart. it had felt nice to have someone to lie close to. 

- in the meantime, hisoka was also seriously mulling over his emotions for you. so many questions invaded his mind, each popping up quicker than the last had been answered. 

- sometimes, he felt as if it would be better to keep everything about you tucked away. underneath his charming, intelligent mask was years of emotion and love and hatred and all things deemed merely human, but too human for him to ever “deserve”.

- as the jester stared at his dazed reflection in the cheap hotel mirror, he came to this conclusion; it wasn’t a matter of what he deserved, or his entitlement. he had to confront the obvious truth that had been bugging him for so long.

- he would tell you he loved you, but not for himself. he would do it for you.

- let’s just say this was the start of something new.

hey so i thought it’d also be good to mention that this is my first time writing a fic on here... to be honest, it’s more the format of a drabble, but i hope you enjoyed! the word count was 2084 words, so i’m super sorry for rambling on too much - i feel like i got a little too deep into hisoka’s character at the end there. illumi’s and chrollo’s version will be coming when i have the time!

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :) 

[omegalomania]

I think tumblr ate my ask or it just didn't sent but what are your favorite Bastille songs / what are some songs you recommend?

i did NOT get this ask im very sorry anon.

it's genuinely hard for me to narrow down cause bastille is pretty up there in terms of favorite artists. i love all their shit, but a special mention goes out to their second studio album wild world since it's the one that made me a Fan

uh so here's a primer i guess i spent too much time on this lmao.

if you wanna listen to their big hits:

flaws - their first single in the uk. if you ever listened to ship playlists on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 then you've probably heard this song or a variant on it at some point.

pompeii - this is the song that really put them on the map and you definitely know it. it dominated the charts all over the place.

happier - the marshmello song that you've definitely heard before too. i think bastille wrote this for justin bieber or some shit but then decided they liked it too much to give it to him? lmao. anyway if you're not digging the version you hear on the radio all the time i recommend trying the stripped down version

good grief - their big hit off their second album. big in the uk, didn't really make as many waves elsewhere, but it's a really solid song anyway. one of those "upbeat tunes that's actually really fucking sad" ones

things we lost in the fire - another one off their first album. if you live in a wildfire area this might not be one to turn to. or maybe you'll find it cathartic idk i certainly do!!

quarter past midnight - a song about escapism, as was fitting when it was released in 2018 and equally fitting now. running away for a night of fucking around with friends, craving any kind of brief departure from the chaos of the modern world

skulls - this one was not a hit or a single and is technically a bonus track but i'm including it because once again if you ever clicked on a ship playlist on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 you've heard this one. and you know what that was justified this one is also good

if you wanna feel existentially depressed:

their whole discography. i mean i kid but i also don't. that's just kind of how bastille does it. BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS ones that hit me in particular would beeee

two evils - kind of a grim, haunting one introspecting about morality of the self.

oblivion - musing about the afterlife, love, and how time changes all of us.

those nights - contemplating what it is we seek when we plunge into reckless escapism, and the inherent loneliness of it; how even when surrounded by people there's still the pressure of the world outside, continuously coming to pieces

the draw - this one was written about the pull of pursuing a career in music vs. staying home with family and friends. in a broader sense, it can apply to a lot of things. i always felt it resonated with feelings of paranoia and displacement

winter of our youth - discusses childhood, nostalgia, and regret. if it feels like everything's slipping away, is it easier to relive the past, especially if the past is tinted rose?

sleepsong - loneliness, desperation, and the cyclical, abyss-like nature of all it encapsulates

if you want discussion of serious topics:

final hour - a bonus track off their second album that also became a bonus track off their third album? anyway this song talks about climate change and gun control. happy stuff

doom days - this one talks about, uh, everything! doomscrolling, political divides, escalating national tensions, climate change again, etc.

the currents - a song centered on political rhetoric and the power that figureheads have over the masses, the way they can orchestrate hate. basically it's not so subtly aimed at donald trump lmao, dan's literally sung it as much in a few live settings

WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? - social media addiction and the way capitalism and corporate interests have annexed our online experiences, fighting desperately for our attention as they seek to monetize every available aspect of our lives

four walls (the ballad of perry smith) - well this one is about uh. perry smith. who was charged with the death penalty for killing 4 people in the late 50's. but it's less directly about him and more a discussion of the morality of the death penalty and capital punishment

snakes - burgeoning anxieties and the impulse to turn to easy outs, like ignorance or alcoholism, to escape the world's global problems

if you want some pop culture sprinkled on top:

icarus - greek mythology. i like this one because it addresses something that i feel isn't addressed enough in discussions of this myth, which is that icarus is a very young lad. less about the pride of the fall, and more about the inherent tragedy of that.

laura palmer - the whole song is a david lynch shoutout. i've never seen twin peaks myself but the song still slaps.

daniel in the den - christian mythology. discusses the biblical tale of daniel in the lion's den and links that up to themes of betrayal and family.

poet - this one's a double feature, referencing both william shakespeare's sonnet 18 and edmund spencer's sonnet 75. also one of my favorites.

send them off! - this is another one of my favorites of theirs. it's also been described by dan as "othello meets the exorcist" and it very much delivers there

if you want something uplifting:

joy - while bastille (understandably) has a bit of reputation as a band that makes sad music about sad things, they've definitely got some happier songs in their catalogue. pun intended cha ching. this one's one of their more straightforwardly happy tunes

survivin' - this was a song they wrote while they were touring and then felt weird about releasing once the panini hit because it felt a bit on the nose. they ended up releasing it anyway and i am so glad they did cause it's a mood

act of kindness - the "happy" part here is debatable but i'm gonna include it anyway. it’s when someone does something nice for you and that impulse Changes you way down deep you know???

warmth - one of those "the world's going to shit but at least we have each other" kinds of tunes

the anchor - one of those "the world's going to shit but you're the one fucking thing that's still keeping me here" kinds of tunes

give me the future - their latest single as of this writing and one of the more optimistic tracks in their catalogue imo! it's yearning, but it's also with a genuine hope for the future.

and LASTLY. because im going to take every chance i can to plug this band. im going to throw some collabs and covers at you because there's one thing this band does SUPER well and it's collabs and covers.

of the night - this is the big one. it mashes up rhythm of the night by corona and rhythm is a dancer by SNAP! and it's so good they still do this one live and it goes off every time.

no angels - a mashup of "no scrubs" by TLC and "angels" by the xx, poured into a strangely mournful tune with clips from the hitchcock movie psycho. doesn't sound like it should work but it does. kinda really does.

torn apart - with GRADES and lizzo no less!!! it's got two parts but they're both excellent listen to them both

weapon - collab with angel haze, dan priddy, and F*U*G*Z and one of my absolute favorites

remains - remix of their song "skulls" but featuring rag'n'bone man and skunk anansie that adds an entire new dimension to the song, really fucking excellent

old town road mashup - lil nas x's old town road meets lizzo's good as hell meets radiohead's talk show host meets talking heads' road to nowhere meets the osmond's crazy horse. "what the fuck that shouldn't work" i KNOW and yet here it is!! BLATANTLY BANGING!!!

we can't stop - one of the few times dan smith subtly changes the lyrics of the song he's covering (most of the time he opts to keep the original pronouns and the like, which is very nice to see). anyway this one mixes miley cyrus's we can't stop with eminem's lose yourself and billy ray cyrus's achy breaky heart. and also the lion king's i just can't wait to be king is there. yes i know it sounds batshit especially because the whole thing is surprisingly melodic and heartfelt and you know what it works.

anyone but me x nightmares - mashing up joy crookes' anyone but me with easy life's nightmares and absolutely one of my favorites.

bad guy mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "bad" in the title? we've got bad guy (billie eilish), bad decisions (bastille), bad romance (lady gaga), and bad blood (taylor swift). bastille even has a song called bad blood and they didnt use it. they used taylor swift's version. also the distinctive guitar riff from dick dale's misirlou is there.

somebody mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "some" in the title? someone like you (adele), somebody told me (the killers), somebody to love (queen), use somebody (kings of leon), and someone you loved (lewis capaldi). seriously these guys take mashups to a new level.

final song - this is a cover of MØ's final song. it also adds in craig david's 7 days and, impossibly enough, europe's final countdown. how does it work. how.

ALL RIGHT. THATS ALL IVE GOT IN ME. HOPE THIS HELPED ANON AND IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH

[tveitsrouge]

also “You’ve always felt like home.” 🥰

conversations in the dark

buck/eddie, fluff, 1k

Buck arrives at Eddie’s house under a cloud.

The mood had snuck up on him quietly. Crept along the floorboards with the cool breeze, curling around his toes and settling beneath the soles of his feet. He sat down on his bed, looked around the apartment and tried to find the source of the feeling, but the truth was, he saw it everywhere. Saw it in the blank walls. In the way every inch of the place was clean, like it was barely lived in at all.

Loneliness lurked in every empty corner, waiting for nights where he sat here all alone, no barrier between him and his thoughts, to work its way into him and settle in his chest. He shivered. Wanted desperately to escape from the ache of it beneath his ribcage.

So grabbed his keys and a jacket, and headed in the direction of the person who always seems to do a good job of remedying that.

The door swings open now, revealing a kind smile and a raised eyebrow, and the only explanation he can seem to put into words is, "My apartment is cold."

Eddie takes it; gesturing for Buck to come inside.

The relief he imagined he'd feel the minute he sets foot in the entryway doesn't come. Instead, as he looks around the room, he can’t help but feel as if the house is mocking him. The framed family pictures dotted around the room show him a glimpse into the kind of life he doesn't have. Each smiling face -Eddie's, Christopher's, even his own- seems to laugh at him. As if the walls have decorated themselves to tease, show him exactly what he's missing out on in his own empty apartment.

He turns away quickly, instead heading straight for the sliding back door, stepping out into the cool night air in his socks. He hears Eddie's own footsteps following, feels the weight of his questioning gaze on his back. He pretends not to notice. Sits down on the porch swing and stares up at the moon instead.

"It's probably colder out here than it is in your apartment, you know," Eddie says, taking the seat next to him.

Buck shrugs. "It's nicer out here." Away from the closed in walls with all too seeing eyes. Ones that he's sure could tell the way his heart flutters every time Eddie looks at him for a bit too long. He doesn't trust them to keep his secrets.

Eddie nods, and follows Buck's gaze upwards towards the sky.

"You know, I heard there was supposed to be a meteor shower later this week," Eddie says. "I don't think we'd be able to see it though, with all the light from the city."

Buck hums in acknowledgment. They sit in silence for a few moments longer before Eddie speaks again.

"You don't seem like yourself tonight."

Buck turns his head and is met with narrowed, concerned eyes looking back at him. He had considered lying, pretending he was just tired in order to allow himself to sit here in silent contemplation. But those eyes seem to have a way of pulling the truth right out of him.

"I think the problem is that I feel a bit too much like myself, actually." He says.

Eddie frowns. "What do you mean by that?"

"I dunno, I just-” Buck sighs. “Everyone else around me has these other lives, you know. They're fathers and mothers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives." He looks down at his hands. "I'm just me."

"What, like that's not enough?"

The words are quiet when they fall from Eddie's mouth, but the intensity of them catches Buck off guard.

“Sometimes it feels like it isn’t.” He says honestly.

“Buck.” Eddie shifts, turning to the side to look at him straight on, and Buck looks up to meet his eyes. “You’re more than enough. You’re an amazing firefighter, amazing friend -best one i’ve ever had- amazing brother to Maddie, and role model to my kid.” Buck feels his heart lift a little bit in his chest. Eddie continues on. “Maybe you don’t have some other title, maybe you are 'just Buck'. But Buck is all of those things combined.” Eddie takes his hand, squeezing it, as if to pour every word into Buck with a simple touch until he has no choice but to believe them. “You’re the best person I know.”

A small smile slowly creeps across Buck’s face. “Other than Chris.”

Eddie chuckles. “I feel like that’s a given.”

Buck laughs. Pauses, before asking, “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Buck thinks for a moment, before shaking his head.

“You don’t have to be anything more than you already are.” Eddie pauses, before adding, “I love the person you are, right here, right now.”

Buck sucks in a small breath. Searches Eddie’s face for any trace of insincerity, but there isn’t any. There never is.

Still, he asks, “You do?” Just to be sure.

Eddie nods. “I do.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, and for the first time all night, Buck feels himself settle. No worries about the future or what ifs bouncing around in his head. He’s completely in this moment with Eddie, looking into his eyes and feeling like he could make a home there.

Buck thinks of the house; the pictures on the wall, showing him the life he's just on the outside of, and he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to jump right into it.

When he finally crosses the distance and pulls Eddie in for a kiss, Buck doesn't feel the explosions of heat or bursting fireworks like he was expecting. Rather, it's quite the opposite. It's relaxing and sweet. There's no rush, no possibility that this will be their first and last. No, the kiss is a promise of many more to come.

Eddie kisses back, and Buck is content.

Eddie pulls back, but doesn't go far. "Don't go home," he whispers. "Stay."

I am home. Buck thinks. You've always felt like home.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says.

They sit there for a while longer, trading kisses. When they finally stumble back in through the patio door, he realizes that perhaps the house was never mocking him after all. Rather, it was just trying to give him a little push.

Now, it's quiet. Settled. Satisfied. It surrounds him with warmth, from his head to his toes, and simply says Welcome home.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Twilight Facet [暮光之境] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I suddenly felt like he exuded loneliness unlike any other.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *6✩ Inspirations have 6 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was the dead of winter.

The car was driving out in the suburbs. Beyond the windows of the car was a never-ending flurry of snow that seemingly piled up in white heaps all around.

MC: Achoo!

My top half was utterly drenched. Shuddering, I drew the thick overcoat closer to my frame.

Evan: Do you need me to turn the heater up?

MC: No need. Your coat's plenty warm enough… Achoo!

Evan inclined his head, glancing at me in concern before speeding up.

Evan: Just bear with it for a little while. We're almost there.

MC: Okay…

I sniffled with care, feeling the heating within the car work its magic as the warmth rushed at my face. Finally, I felt some semblance of warmth.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

About what was probably 2 hours ago, Evan and I had taken his car to the neighbouring City to visit a large-scale Contemporary Art Exhibition.

However, we’d crossed paths with a sound-activated waterwork not long after entering the venue… Safe to say, I ended up being drenched to the bone, much to my surprise...

And that was how our much-anticipated trip to the Exhibition came to an abrupt close…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan skillfully manoeuvred around a corner and a Victorian-style building appeared before my very eyes.

MC: Huh? Didn't you say that you were going to bring me somewhere where I could fix myself back up for the time being?

He chuckled lightly, slowing his car in front of the gates.

Evan: It's too late to be heading back to Guangqi City now. It was more convenient to come here.

Evan: Don't worry. This is my home.

Evan helped me gather up his overcoat, which had become slightly slippery from the water. He then helped me up the steps to the Villa with his arm around me.

The huge door swung open, and a middle-aged man and woman came up to greet us. They were both dressed in matching uniforms and carried an air of poise and elegance around them.

Surprise coloured their faces upon seeing Evan standing there. They moved to give him each a deep bow and curtsy, respectively.

Middle-Aged Man & Woman: Welcome back, Sir!

Evan smiled and gently took the lead.

Evan: (Y/n), meet Uncle Chen and Aunt Wang.

MC: Hello, it's nice to meet you!

They both glanced at us before quickly exchanging a knowing look at each other. The joy on their faces seemed to brighten a tad.

Middle-Aged Man & Woman: Hello, Miss (Y/n)!

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Only when we'd entered the warm confines of the Villa, did he willingly let me out of his grasp

Evan: How about you go get yourself changed first and come find me after?

MC: Okay!

Evan: I'll be leaving her to you then, Aunt Wang.

Aunt Wang: Understood, Sir. Please follow me, Miss.

I followed Aunt Wang down the hall. She slowed her pace until she was side-by-side with me. She occasionally snuck a couple of glances over at me, the amusement reflected in her eyes only growing ever more potent.

Aunt Wang: He doesn’t come here often enough. I and Old Chen here have not seen him for a very long time now…

MC: But Evan said that this was his home. So why hasn’t he been back in that long?

MC: Oh! Is it because this place’s too far from Guangqi City? He’s always so busy, so he probably doesn’t have enough time to drop in often…

Aunt Wang: You really do know him well.

MC: …...

Aunt Wang: This is actually where he grew up. That being said, he only lived here for a short period when he was still very little.

MC: I see. So this was where he lived as a kid?

Aunt Wang: Yes. But, he was the only one here back then, so he's much better off now.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

She laughed as she said that, pushing open a door and leading me straight into a room.

She took a set of neatly folded clothes that had been set onto a tray from the tabletop, respectfully offering it to me.

Aunt Wang: Miss (Y/n), I'll be taking your clothes for a quick dry cleaning.

Aunt Wang: We don't have any new sets of clothes here other than the uniform, so I do hope you don't mind...

MC: Of course not! Thanks.

With Aunt Wang's aid, I soon managed to change into a set of clean and warm clothes. However…

The black satin dress snugly fitted my figure. It narrowed at the waist and stopped at the ankles. Embellished with a white apron, it came with a hint of unspoken warmth and playfulness.

Aunt Wang: Your figure is splendid, as do the way you carry yourself, Miss. Even when dressed in clothes like this, people can tell that you're special just by a glance.

MC: You're flattering me…

Aunt Wang: He has instructed that you are free to enter and leave the Villa at will. You can do as you please here.

Aunt Wang: I'll send your clothes up to you once they're done dry-cleaning.

MC: Sure, see you!

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding after Aunt Wang left. I stretched and moved my body, which had been tense ever since I entered the Villa, around.

Suddenly, I caught sight of something else on the tray where the uniform had initially been from the corner of my eye.

MC: Glasses?

I took the glasses, slightly suspicious about their whereabouts. I suddenly recalled seeing Aunt Wang and Uncle Chen wearing identical pairs… Is this also one of the rules set in place here?

Seeing how I was dressed similarly, I paused to contemplate the glasses for a few seconds before carefully slipping them on.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After that, I left the room. I had only just stepped out of the door when I bumped into Uncle Chen, who was carrying an exquisite tea set and seemed to be in a hurry.

Uncle Chen: Miss (Y/n).

MC: Hello!

He nodded at me and made his way past me. However, he soon swivelled around and stared at me in slight surprise.

Uncle Chen: You've tidied yourself up?

MC: Yep, yep!

Uncle Chen: Brilliant!

Uncle Chen: Pardon me, Miss (Y/n). I have a favour I'd like to ask you. May I?

MC: What is it?

Uncle Chen: You see, I'm just about to send his drink up to him, but the fireplace just so happens to require new coal to keep the fire going...

Uncle Chen: Aunt Wang said that she'd get onto it as soon as she finishes up on her end, but she has never done it before, so…

Uncle Chen: Changing out the coal is a rather complicated task, so I'm a little worried...

MC: I'll just take the drink to Evan for you. I'm going to look for him anyway.

Uncle Chen: Thank you! His room is the one at the end of the hall.

MC: It's nothing much, don't worry about it.

I took the tray over from him and walked towards Evan’s room.

Stopping in front of his door, I freed a hand and knocked on the door.

Evan: Enter.

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I gently turned the knob and headed inside. A faint fragrance greeted me, washing over my face.

It was a very wide room, but it wasn’t decorated in an equally luxurious manner at all. It was sparsely furnished and was chic and elegant.

Evan currently had his back to me, reclining on the sofa as he flipped through a book. The soft light fell upon him, making him look as gentle and elegant as ever.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I suddenly felt like he exuded loneliness unlike any other.

Am I just imagining it?

I blinked, shaking my head to clear my head of the strange thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I slowly approached him, placing the delicate, yet exquisite-looking tea set from the tray onto the coffee table.

Evan: Same as always. Not too thick.

Saying so, he flipped to another page. His gaze was still trained to the book.

Hmm? Does he think I’m Uncle Chen? Seeing how serious he was, I suddenly thought of pranking him.

I carefully poured a small portion of the thick drink from the teapot into the cup, added some hot water, and stirred. I served him the drink once it was thoroughly stirred.

MC: ...Please enjoy your drink, Sir.

Evan’s hand froze midway through turning the page. He slowly raised his head, his eyes filled with sheer disbelief.

Evan: You…

I winked playfully at him.

MC: Sir, it’ll turn cold if you don’t drink it while it’s still hot.

The amusement in his eyes became more pronounced as he took a sip from his cup, shooting me another glance.

Evan: Why are you here for this?

MC: I met Uncle Chen along the way. He was rather antsy about wanting to deal with other matters, so I decided to drop in with the stuff he was going to bring in.

Evan: So that's how it is.

He nodded, chuckling softly when his gaze fell to my clothes.

Evan: Why are you dressed like that?

MC: All my clothes were sent to be dry-cleaned. Aunt Wang said that we’d dropped in on too much of a short notice that there wasn’t time for them to prepare any suitable clothes.

MC: Still… It's my first time wearing something like this. Do I look weird?

He smiled, stretching out a hand to adjust my askew glasses.

Evan: Not at all. You're very adorable dressed like that.

I momentarily stiffened as he did his thing before smiling back at him and deliberately moving my face closer in front of him.

MC: Glad that I didn’t scare you half to death, Sir.

Evan: And why are you still calling me that?

MC: Well… Isn’t it fitting, considering how I’m dressed now? Plus, Aunt Wang and Uncle Chen address you like this too.

MC: Speaking of, is this thing a rule or something here?

Evan: …There used to be many rules set in place here, but it's much laxer now.

MC: I see… Then, what about aromatherapy? Is that also a rule? Or is it something done on a whim?

I wrinkled my nose and sniffed the air, suddenly a little curious about the lingering fragrance.

MC: What a peculiar scent; and only in your room. Is this one of the rules and regulations here?

Evan smiled, shaking his head.

Evan: Uncle Chen was the one who lit it. He probably thought that I’d take an afternoon nap, so he made all the preparations for it.

An afternoon nap? I glanced at the clock and saw that it was the perfect time for a lunchtime nap.

I…

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✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]  

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 + 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

[jungleslang]

So I made a post the other day about Elain and Bryaxis becoming besties, and I couldn’t stop myself from writing it. You guys can thank @ladylochan for encouraging me to write this nonsense. I hope you enjoy some Elain and Bryaxis bonding time! Of course, there’s some Elriel at the end because I’m shameless. I regret nothing. 

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

Word Count: 2,077

Elain was knee-deep in the rose bushes when she sensed a shadowy presence creeping up behind her. She didn't even bother turning around, as she already knew exactly who sought out her company.

"Hello, Bry," she cooed. 

Bryaxis didn't deign to respond, but she felt shadow and mist twining around her ankles, gentle and cool against her flushed skin. She stepped back from the roses and plopped herself down onto the grass, making sure to tuck her dress neatly underneath her. She surrendered herself to the friendly embrace of the creature of nightmares, allowing the shadows to circle the length of her arms and sift through her hair. 

"What kind of story shall I tell you today?" She hummed. "I doubt you should like me to bore you with another monologue about the life cycle of flowering plants." 

The shadows nudged her, as if reassuring her that they would never think her boring. Bryaxis was not a creature of many words, preferring to listen rather than speak. Elain understood that, just as she had come to understand the meaning behind their small gestures. 

She had come across Bryaxis in the garden one day, and she would be lying if she said she hadn't been frightened out of her wits. But she quickly realized that Bryaxis, this creature of nightmares that made even Cassian shrink as if he were one of her flowers, had simply been lonely. Seeking a companion to speak to them of life. Elain was intimately familiar with that loneliness, that craving for life and light. Just like that, she found herself taking up the position.

Talking to Bryaxis turned out to be the easiest thing in the world. They did not judge her or belittle her or dismiss her. Bryaxis found value in her words, was content to just sit beside her and listen. It felt nice to be valued, to be wanted and appreciated. She had come to value Bryaxis as well, for their thirst for knowledge and stories, and for their quiet support. 

Bryaxis had become her friend. 

With a start, she realized that she had never even verbalized that thought to her so-called friend before. So she leaned further into the darkness beside her and said, "You know you are a dear friend to me, right?"

She felt the darkness shifting around her, caressing the side of her throat and her cheek. A gesture of affection. She gazed into that darkness, trying to communicate every ounce of her gratitude and fondness through her stare. 

Yes, Fawn. You are my friend, too. 

She smiled broadly at the creature of pure nightmares lounging beside her like an overgrown cat. "You still haven't told me what kind of story you'd like to hear." 

What kind of story would you like to tell? 

Elain snorted. "There you go, answering questions with questions. Are you sure you aren't a faerie? Or are you just trying to uphold your air of mystery?" 

The darkness coalesced in front of her face and gave her a gentle poke on the forehead. She batted the touch away, understanding that Bryaxis wanted her to choose what story she wanted to tell. But she was afraid the story she chose wouldn't be a happy one. Lately, her mind had been occupied by thoughts of her mother, none of them pleasant. The anniversary of her death was approaching, and now, there were reminders of her everywhere. Especially the section of the garden where the plum blossoms, her mother's favorite flower, were proudly blooming. 

She didn't even like to think about her mother, let alone talk about her, but this was Bryaxis. Bryaxis, who she could talk to about anything. Who would simply listen and never judge. Bryaxis, who was her dear friend. 

"Would you like to hear about my mother?" The darkness coiled around her even more tightly than before at her hesitant question, as if Bryaxis was comforting her because they could sense what this meant for her. That this wasn't just an offer of a story, but of trust. The face of nightmares settled, the inky darkness going still around her, which Elain knew was an indication that Bryaxis was ready to listen and a prompt to begin her story. "She was dazzling, especially at parties. She was beautiful, too. Just like Feyre and Nesta. I always loved their eyes, the color of the sky before a storm. She was the life of every party, flitting around the room to talk to everyone, charming them before they'd even realized it. If you met her at a ball, you would think she was the most joyous and warm person you'd ever met. But she wasn't...she wasn't like that with us. With me and my sisters. She's dead now. She died of typhus when I was nine." 

She felt the weight of shadows on her palm, felt them slipping between her fingers until she curled them around the darkness that was now resting in her hand. 

She forced herself to take a deep breath and mumbled, "I was sad, of course, when she died. And I mourned her. But I...I didn't– I never really missed her. I was never attached to her like Nesta was. And sometimes, I don't think she ever really loved me. I heard the things she said about me. I knew what she thought of me. Her beautiful but useless daughter. Elain who had a face as lovely as the sunrise, but had no ambition, nothing in her head except flowers. Elain, who was good for nothing except securing a beneficial marriage with her pretty face." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone towards the end of her speech, and she had to remind herself that there was no need for such bitterness, nowhere for it to go. No one to direct it at. 

She had never in her life dared to voice these awful words, even if they were true. Her mother was not always a good one. She had valued Elain only for her gentleness and beauty and resented Feyre for her strangeness. For their mother, Elain was not a daughter but a clay doll, and Feyre...Feyre was not even that because she could not be shaped and molded. Because she refused to be pliable, unlike Elain. Feyre had always been her own person, something Elain greatly admired.

"I always feel guilty when the anniversary of her death approaches because I never really missed her the way a daughter should miss her mother," she admitted softly. "But then again, she never really treated me the way a mother should treat her daughter, either," she shrugged. 

It had been a hard lesson for Elain to learn as a young girl, that not every mother loved their children unconditionally. But she did learn it, and now she had no choice but to live with it. She felt the shadows curling tighter around her fingers, gently squeezing her hand. 

To her surprise, she suddenly found herself laughing. The hand that was not currently nestled in the soothing embrace of darkness was clutching her stomach as she laughed until tears formed in her eyes. It truly was ridiculous. If anyone had told her a year ago that she would be pouring her heart out to the face of nightmares while they held hands, she would have thought them insane. But here she was. "You know, Bry, I'm not entirely sure how we got here, but I'm glad we did," she said, twirling strands of darkness around her finger. 

As am I. 

The darkness coalesced once more, but this time, they coiled themselves firmly around her waist. Bryaxis was hugging her. She was contemplating how exactly she could return the gesture when she heard someone land hard in the grass behind her. Just as she was about to turn, she was roughly yanked onto her feet and out of her friend's comforting embrace. 

She came face to chest with Azriel, whose fingers were drilling into her upper arms as he demanded, "Elain, are you okay? Did that thing hurt you? What did it want from you?" His voice was as cold and sharp as his blade, and his shadows swarmed menacingly around him, ready to strike. She could see his eyes scanning every inch of her body, checking for injuries. She fought hard to restrain the blush threatening to paint her cheeks.

She shrugged out of his hold and placed a hand on his chest to calm him as she felt Bryaxis brush firmly against her side, a farewell that she returned with a nod, before vanishing into the wind. She tilted her face up to look into Azriel's furious hazel eyes. "Bryaxis is not an it or a thing, but a they. And no, Bry would never hurt me," she gently but firmly reassured him. 

"Bry?" His voice was as incredulous as she'd ever heard it, and he was staring at her like she had spontaneously grown two heads. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed such palpable shock on the Shadowsinger’s beautiful face before, and she resolved to engrave the expression into her memory. 

She huffed a soft laugh. "Yes, Az. Bryaxis is a friend. I found them in the garden one day. They wanted someone to tell them stories of life. We became quite close," she chirped. 

He shook his head at her as if she were an oddity. "Of course you would manage to become friends with a creature of pure darkness and nightmares," he grumbled, his shadows beginning to dissolve. 

"Well, I'm friends with you, aren't I?" She joked. 

He shot her a mock glare. "Not anymore," he teased, flicking her cheek before seemingly realizing what he had done and snatching his hand back as if she burned him. As if he could not bear to touch her. He directed his stare to the ground, refusing to even look at her. 

Her chest tightened, and she stepped back, letting her hand slide away from his chest. She left at least three feet of space between them. They had not spoken since that moment when they had nearly bridged the unbearable space between them that Elain was now constantly aware of. She had been so close to getting a small taste of what she desired, and now, nothing. And she understood, she really did. It was understandable that he did not want her. She could not, would not, blame him. But she assumed she would still have his friendship, and now it seemed he did not think her worthy of even that.

"It would seem that we truly aren't friends anymore. Since you can no longer stand to look me in the eyes," she blurted before her brain could tell her not to. 

She could see her words struck home by the way his spine stiffened. "That's not true," he bit out, still refusing to meet her eyes. "It's complicated, Elain." His hand reached up to brush the nape of his neck. 

"Then uncomplicate it. You can't avoid me and refuse to speak to me and then expect me to understand what you're thinking. If you don't want anything to do with me anymore, then say it. Just be honest with me. I can handle it," she forced herself to speak firmly, even though she probably couldn't handle it. Even though hearing those words from him would cleave her heart in two, shatter the part of her that he had helped her piece back together. But she had to know what he wanted, or didn't want, from her. The faster he rejected her entirely, the faster she could move on. It wasn't as if she hadn't been cruelly rejected before, anyway.  

He clenched his jaw, but he finally lifted his head to meet her eyes, some unreadable emotion swirling in his own. "Of course we're still friends, Elain," he murmured, and something inside her loosened. She opened her mouth, to say what, she didn't know, but his head turned towards the house before she could speak. "I have to go," he said, and there was something strained in his tone. 

"Okay. We'll talk later?" She cursed herself for being unable to keep the hope she felt from permeating her voice. He stared at her for a moment before simply nodding. Then he shot into the sky, leaving her to stand alone in the garden, staring after him until he disappeared from her sight completely. 

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

Thank you guys so much for reading!

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 25

cruel summer masterlist

AN: This is the final chapter. Just an epilogue after this. Our Cruel Summer has come to an end (90k words later). I just wanted to thank everyone so much again for spending time reading, commenting, and messaging about this story. When I first started writing it in April, I had no idea I would come to get to know so many of you, and it’s been the most rewarding thing to be part of a fandom again. Taylor Swift hearts to all of you. xo.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever been this hung over, or this confused. The ghost of Rowan’s lips caresses her forehead as she lies down on the couch, sprawled in front of the television to watch some obstacle course challenge show that Dorian enjoys heckling.

After Rowan fled her house – yes, fled – she immediately went in search of her parents to find out what they’d been meeting with him about, but she received absolutely nothing in return.

“If Rowan wants to discuss it with you, I’m sure he will,” Rhoe had said with a traitorous, all too-knowing smirk.

Aelin wants to throttle him. She loves her dad, but she’s far too twisted up in her own emotions to be sated by his logical non-answer. Meanwhile, her mother isn’t even on the premises to be questioned. Hiding away in meetings, like a coward. She wants to know so badly.

She contemplates texting Rowan to ask. After all, he clearly opened up their channel of communications again with that picture of the two of them… right? But she can’t help but think her dad is right. If Rowan wanted to tell her what they talked about he would. The question is, what the hell could her parents want to talk to Rowan alone about? What kind of topic required a one-on-one meeting with one of their employees?

Aelin tries to relax, even nap for a bit, but anxiety plagues her brain. The not knowing is keeping her stomach in knots. So, when Dorian departs for the afternoon with a reassuring arm squeeze, Aelin retreats to her safe spot – the music room.

The late afternoon sun splays its warm rays across the piano, tendrils of sunlight curling around her and slowly helping dissipate her hangover. With a deep breath, Aelin spreads her fingers and takes off. She warms up with scales, trailing up and down the keys with her expert touch. She segues into one of her favorite pieces – Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. The pulsing methodical rhythm of the left hand keeps her centered as the dark somber tones float through the room.

The piece is sad, and it pierces her to the core. She lets her emotions flood through her hands as she tries to play out her complicated feelings for Rowan.

As she reaches the third movement, she lets her anxiety out into the frantic, technical workout for her fingers. The frenetic pace matches her rapid heartbeat, the worry and stress and heartbreak of the last few days taking over. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to let everything out. She gives into the heartache she feels, the stress from hiding, the shame of letting him go, the loneliness of being without him. It all comes pouring out in droves. She’s overwhelmed with her feelings. She knew she was sad, and to let it all out like this makes her feel like she’s bleeding out. She lets the music speak for her. And it speaks loudly.

As the final notes ring out, applause comes from behind her, and she gasps, startled by the intrusion.

“Sorry,” Rhoe apologizes, squeezing Aelin’s shoulders gently. “You were in the zone, huh?” he asks, and Aelin shrugs, still breathing hard from the musical marathon she just ran.

“Yeah,” she breathes heavily. “That was intense.”

“Maybe something lighter next?” Rhoe suggests, and Aelin smiles as her fingers take off at lightning speed for her favorite Mozart concerto. The complex finger work distracts her from her feelings momentarily as she performs for her dad.

When she turns around again, she’s surprised to see her dad has been joined by the rest of her family – her mom, Aedion, Lysandra, Evie and Gavin clap thunderously, appreciating her performance. She starts to stand to see if she can finally question her mom, but she’s interrupted as Gavin sprints toward the music bench, climbing next to her in the clumsy way only a five-year-old can.

“I wanna learn!” he says, looking up at her with his widest blue green eyes.

“You do?” she says, chuckling softly. He nods excitedly, and she smiles at her nephew’s enthusiasm.

Aelin’s family quickly disperses, her mom shouting out that dinner will be ready in an hour, but Aelin is entranced by her nephew’s gleeful smile.

“Teach me!” he demands happily.

“I think that piece might be a little too hard,” she explains, while placing his little fingers on the proper keys. “But, I think I know the perfect one…”

She begins showing him the middle C note and moves his thumb in a rhythmic pattern from there. She shows him the notes an octave higher, slowly performing the easy back and forth of the base.

“Like this?” he asks, starting to move his hands in time with hers.

“Just like that,” she says. He fumbles the keys a few times, and Aelin places her fingers over his to help, but soon enough he manages the bass line easily. Aelin can’t help but smile, her heart swelling with pride at how pleased Gavin looks with himself.

“Auntie Ae, look, I’m doing it!” he squeals, and she nods animatedly.

“Are you ready to turn it into a duet?” she asks, and Gavin crinkles his brow, suddenly looking very serious and so much like Aedion it takes Aelin out for a second.

“What’s a duet?” he asks thoughtfully, and Aelin tries her hardest to explain it in terms a five-year-old will understand.

“Well, you’ll keep playing your part that I just taught you,” she says, “And I’ll add a new part up here,” she says, wiggling her fingers over the higher keys. “And when you put it together, it makes the whole song.”

Gavin’s eyes get impossibly wide as she explains, until he’s practically vibrating on the bench next to her.

“You want to try?” she asks, and he shouts his enthusiasm loudly.

She lets Gavin start his part and play it two times through before coming in herself. She can’t help but sing along as she plays the jovial melody.

Heart and soul, I fell in love with you

Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly

Because you held me tight

And stole a kiss in the night

“There are WORDS?!” Gavin asks, incredulous, pausing his baseline.

Aelin nods and laughs, her heart lightening immensely as they start the second verse. The dark cloud of heartbreak that hung over her previous songs is notably gone, replaced with a much lighter one as she launches into the second verse.

Heart and soul, I begged to be adored

Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly

That magic night we kissed

There in the moon mist

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she helps Gavin pick up the pace of his playing. She looks down at her nephew with adoration. She suddenly feels so happy, she feels like she might float away, filled with the intoxicating glee. Her heart soars as she launches into the final verse.

But now I see, what one embrace can do

Look at me, it’s got me loving you madly

That little kiss you stole

Held all my heart and soul

Aelin is so caught up in her playing that she doesn’t even notice Aedion sit down on her other side and play the melody with her one last time, an octave above her. Aelin laughs loudly as Gavin’s mouth drops again.

“Daddy, you know this song?”

Aedion chuckles softly as they wrap up the song with a flourish.

“I remember when Nana Ashryver taught us how to first play Heart and Soul,” Aedion says. His shoulder leans gently int his sister’s. “You were even younger than Gavin.”

Aelin remembers it well. It was when she decided the music room was her favorite room.

“Look at you now,” Aedion says.

“Again, again!” Gavin chants from his spot on the bench, and Aelin and Aedion appease him, playing the song over and over until they’re all hoarse from singing too loud. Aelin is so happy she feels like her face hurts from smiling so much.

As they replay the song, Aelin trips up on the lyrics. Her voice cracks slightly as it hits her in a sudden flash. This feeling of happiness, the ease she feels at the piano, singing her heart out – it’s exactly how she feels when she’s with Rowan.

She never felt this way with Chaol. Never felt her heart pound against her ribs until they threatened to puncture her chest. Never missed him as soon as he was out of her sight. Never thought she would fall apart if she never saw him again. Never felt like she belonged with someone so fully.

When she and Chaol broke up, Aelin had forced herself to wallow – to play the part of the sad girl, but she realizes now that she’d never really felt that way. Each break up had been a relief, a small reprieve to the uncomfortable life she’d tried to shove herself into. It was just another thing she had lied to herself about.

“Oh my god,” Aelin laughs to herself as they wrap up their final run through of the song. She can’t believe how stupid she’s been. Truly, she’s an idiot.

An idiot who’s in love.

She wants to run and tell Rowan right now.

She loves him.

“Wash up for dinner, please!” Evalin shouts from the kitchen, interrupting her thought process, and Gavin sprints away, not bothering to give Aelin or Aedion another look.

“I see how it is,” Aelin laughs as she puts the piano lid down, covering the keys. Aedion gives her a pointed look.  “What?” she asks, wiping at her face, in case she has a piece of long forgotten burrito attached to her cheek that no one told her about.

“We were summoned for cheer up Aelin duty, and we had to do practically nothing. Look at you,” he says. “You’re glowing. You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks, suddenly concerned, and Aelin groans and shoves him away.

“You were summoned?” She can’t imagine her family knows why she’s been in a mood for the last two days. “By who?”

“Dad,” Aedion finally admits. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and Aelin leans into her brother’s warm side.

“I broke up with Rowan.”

“Huh.”

Aelin extracts herself from under Aedion’s arm and pokes him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Aedion pauses. Aelin stares, but Aedion gives nothing up. “Nothing!” he insists. “I liked him.”

“You did?” Aelin asks, perplexed. That’s not how their last conversation about Rowan went. “What about that whole fucking the gardener bit?”

Aedion pinches his nose and looks regretful. “I slept alone for a whole week for that comment, and I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that it was wrong,” Aedion confesses. “He makes you happy.”

“Yeah, he does,” Aelin laughs sadly.

“But, you’re…. okay?” Aedion asks, and Aelin nods.

“Better than okay.”

Aedion shrugs. “Well, okay, then.”

At dinner, Gavin spends the entire time telling the family about his new penchant for piano, and Aelin tells him she has a few more pieces he can learn if he wants.

“We’d pay you for lessons,” Lysandra adds, and Aelin pauses mid-bite.

“You would?”

Lysandra nods. “Of course. We tried to get a teacher for Evie, but she was ‘too mean,’” Lysandra says in air quotes.

Evie pouts. “She was! She stretched my hands too far and cut my nails down.”

“I would never,” Aelin says seriously, winking at her niece.

“Seriously,” Lysandra follows up. “Think about it. We paid the last girl $100 an hour.” She looks at Gavin. “Would you like that, Gav? To learn piano with Auntie Ae?”

Gavin’s whole face lights up, and he even stops shoving mozzarella into his mouth to cheer loudly. “Yeah!”

Aelin smiles again at her nephew. And then looks around the table. At her family. Filled with CEOs. A teacher is a far cry from that. Not exactly a high-powered job, but she can’t help but think how much she enjoyed playing with Gavin. She thinks she might really love it. Plus, she could do it anywhere. Like. In Terrasen. Where Rowan lives. She clears her throat and look at her mom.

“I think I might want to do that. To teach music.”

She pauses nervously as a small v forms between Evalin’s eyebrows. “Really?”

Aelin nods.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most glamorous job…” she trails off, watching her parents exchange silent glances. “But, I could start with private lessons while I work toward a teaching degree, and, I think I’d really love it.”

Evalin’s frown turns into a blinding smile as she nods at her daughter. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Aelin asks, positively shocked at her mother’s warm reception. “Even though it’s not being on a charity board or working with you?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Evalin replies, slightly perturbed, but Aelin can’t help herself. Her mother has been trying to marry her off to the highest bidder since she was eighteen. “Do you think I’m that much of a snob?”

Aelin snorts, ignoring the way her mother angrily spears the tomato on her plate and continues.

“It might not be glamorous,” Evalin continues, “But teaching is one of the most noble professions. You know I’ve always supported funding arts education.”

Aelin pauses, wondering if her mom has more to add, but she doesn’t. The table switches topics to their schedule for the remaining three days before they leave. Aelin is blown away. She must be gaping, because Aedion squeezes her hand under the table comfortingly.

After dinner, Gavin immediately pulls Aelin back into the music room, wanting to start his lessons as soon as possible. Aelin is helpless against her nephew and plays with him until well after his bedtime. With every replay of Heart and Soul, Aelin feels her heart grow bigger, swelling with the feeling that went unidentified in her stomach for so many weeks.

By the time everyone leaves the house, Aelin feels like she’s going to explode, needing to talk to Rowan. To just blurt it out and tell him. But she knows that’s not exactly the right thing to put into a text. Instead, she gathers her strength and texts him a different question.

I know you asked for space, but can we talk tomorrow?

She types it quickly and then shuts her eyes quickly, as if she doesn’t look then it’ll prevent it from hurting when he doesn’t text back.

Her phone vibrates in her lap, and she garners the courage to crack an eye open and peek at his reply.

You really wanna know what your parents talked to me about, huh?

Aelin bites her lip, stopping the massive grin that threatens to take over her face. Her cheeks warm with a blush, realizing she’s texting with the man she loves.

I mean, yes, obviously. But this isn’t about that. I swear.

She holds her breath and waits again.

I’m busy during lunch, but I can stop by after work?

Aelin frowns. It’s not exactly the reply she wanted. And why would he be busy during lunch? Was he having lunch with someone else? Aelin’s heart pounds nervously. No, she needs to talk to him sooner than that. She thinks a full twenty-four hours of waiting might kill her.

But Aelin takes a deep breath, realizing that Rowan has put up with a lot more waiting for her than twenty-four hours. The least she can do is wait until he gets off work.

We’ll be at the park tomorrow. Find me when you finish your shift?

Rowan sends back two thumbs up emojis, and Aelin clutches the phone against her pounding chest.

Tomorrow she’s going to tell Rowan she loves him.

She falls asleep, comforted by that thought.

But when Aelin wakes up, she can’t help but groan. Rain splatters against her window, a soft grey overcast dampening her spirits as well as the ground outside.

The park still runs in the rain, but it’s absolutely no fun, since they close down any ride that could potentially be affected by the weather. Essentially, the only ride that’s open is the log flume, and Aelin knows her family won’t want to go to the park just for that.

She groans internally.

Of course this would happen.

Aelin paces around the kitchen with her coffee, hoping against all hopes that the rain will dissipate if she wills it to. But, instead of fading, the clouds darken even further, giving way to even heavier torrents.

She feels like a trapped animal.

Nothing distracts her – not playing the piano, not getting ready or putting on a full face of makeup. She’s so wound up, even a delicious lunch of her favorite potato salad and grilled chicken doesn’t help soothe her nerves.

By mid-afternoon, Aelin’s started counting down hours until Rowan’s work ends. Only four more hours. She grumbles, staring at the clock, hoping she can somehow speed up time.

“Aelin, sit down, you’re doing that anxious pacing again,” her dad chastises from behind his newspaper.

Aelin tries to pause, but she finds herself flicking her foot in tendus again, unable to still completely.

Her dad smiles softly. “Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Evalin asks, emerging from her office to refill her mug of coffee.

“Why Aelin looks so nervous today,” Rhoe laughs, and Evalin’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Oh, did Rowan tell you?” she begins, but Rhoe’s pointed stare cuts her off.

“Tell me what?” Aelin explodes, and Rhoe shakes his head and laughs softly again, hiding his face behind the paper. Evalin frowns again.

“Well, if he hasn’t told you, what are you so keyed up about?” Evalin sighs, as if she’s exasperated with her daughter. Aelin scoffs. No one is more exasperated with anyone at this moment than she is with her mother. Her secret keeping mother!  

“I’m leaving!” Aelin growls, finally snapping. She doesn’t care that it’s raining out. She needs to see Rowan right now.

“Where are you going?” Evalin shouts out after her, but Aelin is already halfway out the door. “Aelin, take a jacket! You’re going to get soaked!”

She doesn’t pause to realize her mother’s parting comment was more than right as she stumbles along the wet sand. Rain soaks through her t-shirt and pelts down on her head, wetting her hair. By the time she makes it to Playland, she’s sure she looks like some kind of drowned animal. Her sneakers squeak loudly with each step, her toes filled with water, and she doesn’t even want to imagine what her face of makeup looks like.

But she doesn’t have time to think anything through. She’s a woman on a mission.

“Aelin!” a surprised voice says, definitely shocked by her rain-drenched appearance.

In a stroke of luck, Lorcan is seated at the admissions booth. “Rowan?” she pants, hoping the rest of her question is understood.

Lorcan frowns. “Not sure.”

“What do you mean not sure? Aren’t you in control of his schedule?” Aelin knows it would be wrong, but she feels like smacking Lorcan.

She sees him hide a tiny smile as he shrugs. “He’s pulling tarps off the rides,” Lorcan explains, pointing to the sun peeking through the clouds, the rain finally coming to a stop. “He could be anywhere.”

“Useless!” Aelin shouts, agitated, and Lorcan snorts loudly as he slaps a wristband onto her hand.

“Enjoy your search,” he snickers, and Aelin huffs as she stalks across the slick grass and puddles of mud to find Rowan.

Her shoes squelch with the newly acquired mud, and she struggles not to slip as she walks at a brisk pace through the park. For the first time in her life, Aelin regrets how large the park grounds are. She circles the entire place, with no Rowan in sight. On her second loop, she goes further into the park and walks by the bumper cars and the carousel, which have no tarps on them, and deduces that she must at least be in the right direction.

Through the light drizzle of rain, the sun finally starts to shine, and Aelin smiles as she watches a rainbow take shape over the park. Her eyes follow the colorful beams, watching as they curve down, all the way to the middle of the fair grounds. She holds her breath as she spots a bright silver blonde head of hair just beyond the rainbow. Her own personal pot of gold.

A similarly rain-soaked Rowan rolls up the sides of the eating tent and affixes them to the top methodically. Aelin barely has time to process his appearance before she picks up her pace and heads toward him, a smile stretched across her lips.  

“Rowan!” she shouts, breaking into a jog.

Confused, Rowan glances over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the approaching girl. She knows she must look ridiculous, water-logged, eyes wild and beaming, but she can’t stop.

As she tries to increase the speed of her jog, her foot catches on a slick patch of grass, and Aelin shrieks loudly as she attempts to stop her skidding, but it’s no use. Aelin’s feet slide out from beneath her, and she closes her eyes tightly as she falls to the muddy ground with an unceremonious thud.

She groans, feeling the wetness soak through her shorts and underwear. She opens her eyes and realizes she’s skidded directly into a watery pool of mud.

“Aelin!” Rowan shouts, concerned. She lifts her head, laughing, as he approaches her with worry. “Are you okay?” he asks. His hands stretch out, and she takes them in hers, helping hoist herself off the ground. She shakes her head, her wet hair still stringy around her shoulders. This was not exactly the reunion she’d anticipated for them.

“I’m fine,” she laughs, trying to brush the clumps of mud from her ass and thighs. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. She can’t believe this is how this is happening. But she can’t turn back. She’s here. And she’s no longer being a liar or a coward.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, wiping droplets of rain from his own hair, and Aelin takes a deep breath and centers herself.

“I told you I’d be at the park,” she says, and she watches as Rowan’s eyes crinkle in confusion.

“In the rain?” He pauses, looking her over. She doesn’t even want to think about what she looks like. She knows it’s a mess. “I just assumed—”

“I love you,” she blurts out, cutting him off.

It feels so good to say it, she barely notices Rowan’s soft lips parting in surprise. She’s not ready for him to reply, so she just keeps talking.

“I’m an idiot. And a liar. Of course I love you, Rowan.”

She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She knew she’d be emotional, but – gods, this is something else. She feels like she’s been possessed by some vulnerable alien. But that doesn’t stop her. She will get this out, even if it kills her.

“I knew it as soon as you kissed me that this wasn’t just for the summer. This is forever,” she barrels on as she points between the two of them. “And I know we have a lot of stuff to figure out, because we never talked about any of the logistics of anything, and I know that’s completely my fault because I was just… really at good at pretending like I didn’t have to,” she rambles, getting faster and faster as she logics her way into convincing Rowan to accept the possibility of a real relationship. “But I don’t want to leave. I’m going to teach piano, and I can do that anywhere. And I want to stay in Terrasen. With you.”

Aelin pauses, breathing hard. Her arms cross over her chest tighter, squeezing herself and acting as a defense shield against the thick silence between her and Rowan.

She looks at Rowan’s face. His eyes are still crinkled in confusion, and his lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly. His pursed lips haven’t moved since they first parted, and she can see the tension in his neck as he strains to breathe.

She can feel her heartbeat angrily thumping against her crossed arms, and she takes another deep breath.

“I really wish you’d say something,” she says quietly. “Anything.”

Rowan rubs at his face, covering his mouth, and she notices how tired he looks. “Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to Terrasen,” he says finally, and Aelin feels like a dagger has pierced her straight through the chest.

Oh Gods, she’s too late.

So this is what genuine heartbreak feels like. Aelin is so busy feeling wounded, she almost doesn’t hear the rest of Rowan’s sentence.

“…because I’m going to be living in Adarlan.”

Aelin looks up and is shocked to see Rowan’s green eyes twinkling as he reveals his smile from behind his hand.

“Wait, what?”

Aelin is so confused. Her head is spinning with all kinds of thoughts.

“I didn’t want to say anything to you until it was official,” Rowan says. “But, I’m going to be working for the Ashryver Corporation as an app developer. I interviewed at lunch, and they called about an hour ago to give me my official offer.”

The pieces start to click into place. “That’s what my mom wanted to talk to you about?”

He nods, and she watches as his ears turn pink as he stares her down.

“So, I shouldn’t move to Terrasen,” Aelin says slowly, and Rowan’s smile widens as he shakes his head. “Because you’ll be in Adarlan.” She takes another long breath. “Where I live.” He takes a step forward, and her breath hitches.

“Yes.”

“Rowan, they’re making your app?” she asks, and he nods but doesn’t smile. “That’s so amazing, you should be so proud of—"

“Say it again,” he whispers, cutting her off, and she watches his eyes darken. She wonders what he wants to hear for a second, thoughts bouncing around her brain as she’s assaulted by his scent as he hovers over her.

“Hm?” She can’t think straight as she tilts her head up towards his, his lips dangerously close to hers now.

“Say it again,” he repeats and wraps his arms around her waist, sliding his hands into the mud-caked back pockets of her shorts.

Oh.

Aelin grins and whispers back.

“I love you.”

His lips are on hers before she can finish her sentence, parted lips sliding onto her damp face as he pulls her closer. She snakes her arms around his neck and smiles against his mouth. Their kiss deepens, unencumbered by stress or worry for the first time all summer, and Aelin can’t stop herself from lifting herself up. Her legs spring off the squishy ground, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer, until she can feel his heart pounding against hers.

His lips are soft but demanding against hers, and they feel like coming home. She kisses him harder, his mouth pliable under hers.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever felt this happy ever.

As Rowan’s tongue swipes against hers, she clutches at him tighter. He leans her back, and she’s so consumed in the feeling of him against her that she barely notices that he’s placed her down on the closest table inside the eating tent. His hands drag upward and knot themselves into her wet hair, and she parts her lips further, breathing him in. She wants to live in this moment forever.

All too soon, Rowan finally pulls back. He pulls his wet hands from her hair and slides them to her cheeks. They’re cold against her flushed cheeks, warmed from his thorough kisses, and she can’t help but smile widely at him. His face reflects the same expression back at her. Two grinning idiots.

As if he can’t bear to apart from her for too long, Rowan leans in again, pecking a flurry of kisses all over her face – her cheeks and forehead and eyes, and finally one last lingering kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” Aelin says again. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop saying it.

“I love you, too,” Rowan says, his voice hoarse and breathy.

Rowan ducks his head, as if to kiss her again, but they’re interrupted by a loud whistle. They look over their shoulders, and see a frowning Lorcan, but there’s no real ire in his expression.

“If you two are done making out on my table, Rowan, can you head to the ticket booth to do your job?” Lorcan rests his hands on his hips, trying his very hardest to look annoyed, but Aelin can see the barest of smiles threatening to break through.

“Yes sir,” Rowan answers with a nod. He looks at Aelin as she hops off the table and links her arm with his, leaning into his side. He immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders, neither of them anxious to let the other go. “What are you going to do with the rest of your afternoon?” he asks.

“Anxious to get rid of me that soon?” she snorts.

Rowan looks shocked. “No! Of course not, I just meant—”

Aelin laughs and kisses his hand, which is tangled with hers. “I know, I’m kidding.” She pauses. “I thought I could hang out with you until your shift is done?” she asks nervously. “And then, we can go back to my house and tell my parents about us.”

Rowan’s smile nearly blinds her. “Yeah?” He squeezes her hand.

“Yeah,” she smiles back.

“And then I should shower. Because I’m covered in mud,” Aelin snorts, and Rowan laughs loudly and tugs her closer.

“I love you, even covered in mud,” he says.

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, eyes wide in wonder. How could she have kept herself from feeling this all summer?

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, brushing a clump of mud from her shorts.

Because it’s a slow park day, Rowan is blessed to be the only one taking tickets, which means that Aelin can sit next to him, as close as she wants. His thumb rubs up and down the back of her soft skin, and Aelin only holds his hand tighter as they make their way to the booth. She’s not letting go of him any time soon.

Rowan pauses a few feet away from admissions, and his hand becomes a vice grip around hers.

“What?” Aelin leans into his side further, her chin resting against his arm.

“Uh…” he starts, sounding nervous, his eyes flicking from Aelin out to the parking lot.

“Oh!” Aelin is shocked to see her entire family, walking toward them.

Rowan starts to remove his hand from hers, but Aelin shakes her head and holds it tighter.

“Are you sure?” Rowan asks, his eyes locked on Aedion for some reason. “I wasn’t anticipating telling your brother about us until we were married and I was a more permanent fixture.”

Aelin’s mouth drops. “Aedion likes you.”

Rowan shakes his head. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?” Aelin asks, curious.

Rowan groans. “I may have overheard a conversation where he… wasn’t so enthused about our relationship.”

Aelin freezes and stares at him. “You came that night. To pick me up from Aedion’s.”

Rowan nods, grimacing slightly as he tracks Aelin’s approaching family, nearly to the entrance now.

“And you left…”

Rowan laughs, but it sounds pained. “And I’m now remembering all the reasons we didn’t tell your parents in the first place.” He pauses. “Maybe we should keep this a secret for a little longer.”

Aelin stops them, pulling him so he’s facing her and looking away from her family. “Rowan,” she begins emphatically. “What Aedion said was horrible, and if I’d known that you heard it, I would have told you a lot sooner that he didn’t mean it. But even if he did, it doesn’t matter. Because I want to be with you. Because you’re so much better than all of them. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have, and you’re so incredibly talented and kind and real. And I love you.”

Rowan looks like he wants to protest, but he begrudgingly releases a small, “Fine.”

Aelin is so taken with his acceptance that she can’t resist wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again. He melts into her, arms locked around each other in a tight embrace, until they hear a throat clearing beside them.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Aedion’s low voice jokes, and despite Rowan stiffening beneath her, Aelin presses one more kiss to his lips as she flicks off her brother. Aedion cackles loudly.

“Aelin!” her mother cries out. She sounds so horrified and shocked, that Aelin can’t help but finally pull away to explain herself. “You’re covered in mud!” her mother chastises, and Aelin cannot believe that her mom just walked up to her kissing Rowan, and that is what she has to say.

“I fell?” Aelin says by way of explanation. Evalin shakes her head disapprovingly, and Aelin realizes that there are some things her mom will always care about – like her appearance, and being polite, and manners. But, apparently, Aelin is free to live her life the way she wants to, and somehow that realization is worth everything.

“Rowan,” Evalin says with a smile, ignoring the flaming blush crawling up his cheeks and ears. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Rowan smiles bashfully and tucks his chin into his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rhoe leans in conspiratorially. “Make sure you counter offer their salary. They’ll lowball you every time.”

Evalin looks positively offended at her husband’s comment. “We would never! We value all our employees and pay them very fairly,” she says, and Rhoe snickers again, wrapping his arms around his wife.

Aelin can’t believe that no one has commented on her tongue being shoved down Rowan’s throat mere minutes ago. And she’s even more surprised when Evalin tells Rowan he should come over for a celebratory dinner after work.

“I’d love to,” he accepts with a shy smile, and Aelin can’t resist kissing him again. This time on his shoulder.

Surprisingly, it’s Gavin who is the first to speak up.

“Auntie Ae, did you just kiss Rowan?” His little face crinkles in confusion. He has a moment of understanding, and his eyes widen with excitement. “Is Rowan going to be my Uncle?”

She’s not sure how to answer, and she can feel her cheeks warming under her family’s scrutiny, smiles hidden into each other’s shoulders as Aelin struggles with how to answer her nephew.

“Probably,” Rowan says with a shrug as Aelin answers, “Yes.”

“Probably?” Aelin gapes at him as Rowan gapes right back, repeating her words at her. “YES?!”

Aedion laughs loudly as he scoops Gavin into his arms. “Do you think they’ve always been this dysfunctional?” He looks at the couple stammering and blushing in front of him and then back to the small child in his arms. Gavin, of course, doesn’t know what his father means, but nods seriously regardless. “Let’s go get some cotton candy.”

Gavin shouts his affirmations, sprinting into the park, the rest of the family following close behind. No one comments when Aelin takes a seat next to Rowan in the ticket booth, but Rhoe winks at his daughter.

Aelin is grateful for the slow trickle of patrons, leaning over to kiss Rowan whenever she feels like it.

By the time Rowan’s shift ends, she can feel her lips starting to chap with how often they’ve been attached to his, but she can’t bring herself to care at all.

Aelin is reluctant to leave Rowan’s side when they get back to her house, but she knows she really does need to shower. She still has dried patches of mud on her legs, and her hair is a tangled stringy mess.

She showers as quickly as she can, and when she returns downstairs she’s shocked to see Rowan laughing with her entire family, as if he’s fit there the whole time. She doesn’t know what she was ever worried about. Everything seems so stupid now, looking back. How much pain she caused them both for absolutely nothing. Because of her own stupid insecurities. Because of her need for her parents’ approval. She’s so incredibly grateful Rowan is as forgiving as he is. She’s not sure she would have been as kind to herself.

Her mood lifts completely as Rowan smiles brightly when he spots her, freshly showered and in clean clothes.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Evalin finally asks, of course, just as Aelin takes a sip of her wine. Aelin splutters, coughing wildly as she chokes on the alcohol, and she glares at Rowan, who smirks beside her, completely unaffected as he rubs her back.

“When did I catch you climbing out of Aelin’s window again?” Lysandra asks Rowan nonchalantly, and then it’s Rowan’s turn to choke. “Must have been back in June…”

“Oh Gods,” Rowan begins to apologize to Aelin’s parents, who are resisting laughing themselves.

“I saw him only about two weeks of being here, I think,” Rhoe finally pipes up. “He didn’t even see me on the patio.”

Rowan’s face is beet red as he tries to hide it in Aelin’s shoulder, and she can feel herself reddening, too. This is a nightmare. But the best kind.

She leans into Rowan reassuringly and smiles when she feels his lips brush across the top of her head.

After dinner, Rowan politely thanks her parents, and asks Aelin if she wants to go out to the beach to stargaze. Aelin nods enthusiastically, taking his hand and letting him drag her out to the edge of the sand. She pulls the oversized pool chaise and leans it all the way back, motioning for Rowan to sit.

He does, and she climbs onto his lap, relishing the way his arms immediately circle her and pull her close. Because that’s something he can do now, even in sight of her parents. She leans her head against his chest and sighs happily.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin whispers.

“For what?” he asks, and Aelin tilts her head up, brushing her lips against his stubble as she continues.

“Everything.” She laughs. “If you’d told me I was too late, I would have accepted it, you know. I put you through hell this summer.”

Rowan laughs softly and pulls her closer. “If this is hell, I think I’m doing okay.” He pauses and looks at the sky. “I don’t’ know if you can understand this, but… I’ve never quite felt like I was good enough. The first time I stepped into this house, I’ve never been more terrified of anything before. The level of inadequacy…” He laughs at himself. “I was so afraid I was going to fuck this whole thing up. My job. My life, pretty much.” He pauses again, thinking hard. Aelin wants to interrupt, but she lets him finish. It’s so rare that Rowan opens up about anything. And she wants to hear every single word of his inner most thoughts. “But, you changed that. Tonight, I sat with your parents and I honestly thought we’d be talking about my job, but all we talked about was you. They wanted to know why we kept it a secret. Because they couldn’t fathom us thinking they wouldn’t approve of me. And I’ve never felt like I belonged more. I belong with you.” She relishes in his words and nods. She feels the exact same way. And she tells him as much.

They sit together, staring at the sky for a while, kissing occasionally, happy to just be, until Rowan’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he pulls it out. He snorts and shows Aelin the text from Manon.

U ALIVE?!

He leans in and kisses Aelin. She’s sure it’s supposed to be a quick kiss, but she can’t resist deepening it. She smiles against his lips as she sees the camera flash go off behind her closed lids.

He sends the picture of them smiling into each other’s mouths as a text reply to Manon, who immediately replies with a vomit emoji.

GROSS.

“You do belong,” Aelin says, and Rowan smiles softly again. She’ll tell him again and again if that’s what it takes.

“So, Uncle Rowan, huh?” he teases her, chuckling as he slides his phone back into his shorts, and Aelin shoots him an uncomfortable glance.

“Yes,” she replies, and she can’t help but smile as Rowan leans in and kisses her again.

If this is the beginning of forever, she’ll take it.

THE END

~*~*~*~

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[suchalonelysunflower]

If it means a lot to you (a.i)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin X Reader 

Summary: Songfic based on the song “If it means a lot to you” by A Day to Remember. You haven’t heard from Ashton in weeks, could you endure all the pain while he’s on tour or it would become too much?

Warnings: ANGST, strong language, overthinking and anxiety. Also some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry) 

Word Count: 2.6 K 

Author’s Note: I was feeling so angsty today and this was the product of me pouring out my feelings into a fic. Reblogs, coments and feedback are always welcome and apreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts 💙  Hope you like it and Happy reading🦋

My Materialist

It felt good to be on the stage again. It felt more than good, actually. The sound of screaming fans, calling out your names in pure ecstasy as one by one the songs pass and reverberates throughout the whole stadium, or arena or a simple, yet packed, venue. The adrenaline that cursed through the veins of each one of them as they gave their all, feeling how the base makes the entire stage shake with rhythms they know by memory and would never get tired off. It felt good to be on the stage again, to be on tour again. But not everyone gets to have everything they want. 

You were sitting on your sofa, getting lost in thought as the TV played some old episodes of your favorite show as background noise of your own pity party. It’s been two months since Ashton went away on tour with his band again, and even though you knew this made him happy, you always hated when he had to leave. 

The feeling of loneliness crept in two weeks and a half ago, when he started to miss your calls and texted you only once a day. You knew he was busy, you knew he must be tired, but so are you. 

You understand that this is his job, you’ve been through this before, but the separation was never easy. You always worried about his safety, how he’s dealing with stuff and if he ever misses you or if he had someone else he’d rather be with while you were away and tucked under your shared sheets in LA. He always came through though, pushing those thoughts away by reassuring his love, either by facetime or a simple call. But you haven’t seen him or heard of him in so long that you couldn’t help but drown yourself in a pity parade for one. You miss him, you need him. And it’s still so long until you could see each other again. 

A notification on your phone pulls you away for a while, it takes a few moments before you realize that it was in fact your phone and not a trick of your mind. You jump right to it, thinking, hoping that it would be Ashton trying to call you or even a simple text. The beating of your heart ran like a horse before you could even register that it was just a notification from instagram, you just saw his name and quickly swiped to open it. 

@ ashtonirwin: Thank you for singing with us xx 

The post was simple, you could see the crowd going wild as Andy took a photo of the boys in their element. Ashton was smiling behind his drum kit, taking in the scenery of a thousand screaming fans that were there just to see them, to sing with them. And it hurt you. 

It hurts not being there. Not being the one that was at the other end of the smile, and oh, how you miss that smile.

You opened the camera roll, forgetting to put a like on the post as your mind decided to add some salt to the wound. You scrolled a few pictures down until you found what you were looking for: A video of Ashton. 

His smile was clear even before you pressed play. You remember the day he sent that to you, it was at the beginning of the tour and you were feeling a little needy, so he decided to send you this while you were asleep. He knew it would make you feel better once you woke up. And it did. 

It was a simple video of him just talking to the camera, but it always made you feel better and you hope this time it will as you pressed play. 

“Hey, darling” Ashton said with a smile so wide you could see every dimple and wrinkle on his face “I hope you’re good tonight, I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving… It’s not easy for me either, being away from you and being unable to kiss you and cuddle you like we do. I miss you, dear” 

The sadness in his voice moved you and you wished you were there with him, doing your best to push that sadness away. “Tour’s going great so far, I really wish you were here to see it. But you will be, one day and it will be awesome. But I can’t come back home till they’re singing, and oh, how amazing it is to hear them sing back at us, it’s almost as beautiful as to hear you sing to me one of our songs, even if it’s to mock our oldest songs” His smile lit up the screen ashe giggled “Just wait till I get home, baby. It won’t be long now, I swear. I love you”

“I love you” You whispered to the face on the screen as the video stopped. 

The tears were rolling down your face and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. The video always helped to make you feel better but, somehow, it just made missing him worse. 

It wasn’t enough, you needed him. You needed him and he was MIA, the only news you get from him are from social media and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. 

Ashton was laying in his bunk bed, smiling as he scrolled down twitter to read the reactions to tonight’s concert. It was one of their best and he was very proud of the energy they put on stage for the world to see.

He always enjoyed tour life, visiting new cities and countries every night, giving his all in all the concerts and spending time with his best friends. It was all he ever wanted since he was a kid and now he was able to experience it. 

“Hey, Ash!” Luke called his attention from the bunk across the small hall “Could you tell Y/N that Sierra wants to talk? She said it was something about a recipe but it seems like she can’t get in touch with them” 

Ashton frowned, you were never the one to shy away from their friends, always being the most social one of the two of them “Uh, yeah. Sure man” 

“Thanks, and tell Y/N we are missing them, it’s been too long since we saw each other” 

‘It has been a long time’ Ashton thought, or at least it seemed like it because he was sure he sent a text earlier today and…

Ashton’s expression froze when he saw that he didn’t text you today, or yesterday or the day before that. He didn’t even respond to your last text.

Y/N: Tell me something sweet to get me by.  

How long ago was that? Why didn’t he notice before? 

A feeling of guilt ran through him, feeling disgusted at himself for forgetting about you, the most important thing in his life. How could he? You must’ve been feeling low that day to text him something like that, he knew how much you hated when he had to leave. You didn’t text him after that, maybe you were okay now, but he still needed to talk to you, to apologize. 

He sighed when he saw what time it was, now it wasn’t time for a facetime call, knowing that you were probably asleep by now. He would apologize to you in the morning. 

Little did he know that you were still awake, sobbing and calling out his name through your cries. 

*

You woke up when the sunlight hit your face. You furrowed your eyebrows at your surroundings, realizing that you fell asleep on the couch. Luckily it was a Saturday, so you had no other responsibilities other than crying yourself to sleep for maybe the tenth time in a row? 

You knew it wasn’t fair, for you or for him, to be enduring this kind of pain. But if you meant a lot to him, why hasn’t he responded? or calling to check up on you? This place felt lonelier by the minute, his mugs were in the cupboard, some of his clothes were in the closet, his music room remains untouched and yet it seemed like he was never here at all to begin with, just a ghost of his memory floating around to remind you of what you were missing. 

You felt the tears about to crash down again, but you had no energy left in your body to cry. You were exhausted, needy, lonely and down right miserable while the love of your life was living his best life without you in it. 

Ashton was living his best life, but he still felt something was missing. He sat down on the couch the venue offered, it wasn’t as comfortable as he would expect but it didn’t matter. He knew he had to talk to you. 

He has been a shitty boyfriend lately, he understood and hated that. You didn’t deserve to be pushed aside like he did and he felt awful. So, with his heart in his sleeve, hoping you’ll forgive him and that you were okay, he picked up the phone and called. 

Ashton heard the beeping tone three times before you decided to answer “...Hey, sweety” You said with a sigh. 

Ashton could tell you were sad, a punch in the guts hurt less than hearing your voice so small and defeated. “Hey, darling,” He said,making his tone a little bit more uplifting, thinking it might help “How are you? Sierra said that you weren’t answering your phone, is everything okay?” 

Hearing his voice, his cheerful tone as if nothing has happened or as if this wasn’t the first time in weeks that you’ve heard of him, hurt more than you could ever expect. You felt silent tears rolling down your face as you contemplated what to say about that. 

“I just-”

“Ash, we need you for soundcheck” A voice said on the other line.

Ashton raised his hand, annoyed at the interruption, asking the boys to wait a second. He needed to hear from you first. All three of the guys backed up immediately when they saw the serious expression on the drummer’s face. 

“Sorry, love. I think the boys need me” He said, hoping you wouldn’t get mad. 

“But, what about me?” You asked before you realized what was coming out of your mouth.

“What?” Ashton said with a concerning tone. 

“I need you here, Ashton” You cried, unable to keep the tears at bay anymore “I need you here tonight, and I know that you don’t wanna be leaving and I get it, I swear I totally get it and I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, it’s okay that you want this” 

Hearing you cry through the phone broke Ashton’s heart. He did this, he caused this. How could he neglect you like that? 

“I want it but I don’t need it” He quickly reassured you. 

“Yes, you want it. But I can’t help it, I-” Your voice shook “I just feel complete when you’re by my side. I know I can be needy sometimes and believe me, I hate that as much as you do, probably. But, Ash, I haven’t heard from you in weeks! Yes, a morning text now and then but sweety, I don’t think you understand how bad this hurts”

Ashton felt the tears burning in his eyes, your broken voice sounded like an echo in his head, making him wish he could go back and fix his mistakes, to take all your pain away.

“Do you know how hard it is to be in this house alone, not knowing if you are okay or if you miss me? I found myself walking around aimlessly, trying to hold on to the memory of you here, to even a hint that I wasn’t dreaming when I held you close because it’s been so long and I don’t think I can take it anymore. Knowing that you can’t come home till they’re singing, till everyone is singing back at you” 

“B-baby-” Ashton said, not caring that he sounded desperate, because he was. He didn’t like where this conversation was going “Baby, I know I fucked up, big time. But don’t you ever doubt that you are the most important thing to me, I swear. Darling, if you-” He said, swallowing the lump in his throat “If you can wait till I get home, I swear that when tomorrow comes this will all be in our past” 

You stared blankly ahead as you heard him say those things. It broke you to your core, but you knew what you had to do. It was the best for both of you. 

“Ash, you know you can’t give me what I need. Not right now and I can’t ask that from you, I would never ask that from you and you know it. Even though you mean so much to me, I need you to be happy, I need to be happy and maybe we thought that we could find happiness together but Ash, this ain’t it”

“Darling, wait-” 

“I love you, but I can’t wait through everything. I can’t keep crying myself to sleep every night wishing for a text, a call, a sign that you are okay. And I can’t ask you to give up your life just to be with me, we both know it’s not going to work and we’ll be miserable-”

“Is this really happening?” Ashton interrupted you. 

He was pacing back and forth in the little room, tears falling freely as he understood the words you were trying to say. You were leaving him. You were leaving him and he couldn't blame you. He knew it was too much to ask but he hoped… if he had tried hard enough, if he hadn’t neglected you the way that he did and invalidating you by not acknowledging your feelings, maybe this wouldn’t be the outcome of his mistakes. 

“I love you,” He pleaded. 

“Ash…”

“No, Y/N!” I know, I fucked up but please! Please, darling, don't leave me” He begged “I swear I’ll never be happy again, not even if we stay friends so don’t even dare to say that. Y/N. I love you. I love you, darling. You are the love of my life and -” He choked, overwhelmed with grief of what he just lost.

“Ash, please don’t make it harder” You cried, silently as your heart broke in a thousand pieces “We knew it’d happen eventually”

“No we fucking didn’t! I didn’t! I want you in my life, Y/N. And I know I sucked at letting you see that but- I swear, if you can wait till I get home, I swear we can make this last, baby. Please” 

You stayed silent, wanting to be able to believe him right now, but knowing this was for the best, even if it hurt, it’s what needed to be done so both of you could be happy. And you want nothing more than for him to be happy and free to do whatever he wants, even if it breaks your heart.

“Goodbye, Ash. I love you” You said, voice breaking at the end “I’ll always love you”

“Y/N, don’t-” He pleaded one last time before you ended the call “FUCK” He yelled, throwing the phone to god knows where. 

He lost you. 

Luke, Calum and Michael came running towards the room when they heard Ashton yell. However, they didn’t expect to find their friend sitting on the floor, sobbing as he started to hyperventilate. 

“Mate, what happened?” Ashton took a big breath.

“I fucked up, Cal” He said with a voice as broken as his heart “I fucked up and I don’t know if I can fix it”

Part 2

[vostokovasmelina]

emerald stained goodbyes.

for @smallheathgangsters ‘ 1k challenge - huge huge congrats, leah and so sorry i’m so fucking late! all the love xx

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k+

warning: substance abuse - this is really dark; i’m sorry, okay??

prompt: “i probably tore her heart right out” (cassie by chase atlantic)

disclaimer: i believe people with any kind of addiction deserve help and recovery, so this piece was not written against them. however, i have seen what it can do to loved ones and i was also heavily inspired by some other lyrics from the song referencing substance abuse, so please don’t misunderstand my intentions - it’s just a piece of fanfiction. many thanks

a/n: phew i think i’m officially back, folks; i’m lowkey not happy with the ending but ‘tis the best i can offer right now

italics = the past

He stumbled to the front door absent-mindedly, mostly his subconscious reacting to the sharp ringing of the doorbell and Tommy just obeying its demands. He had been in a relatively good mood, which had been quite rare lately, and he didn’t even give much thought to a possible threat waiting for him on the other side. He didn’t even check if his gun was close to hand at all, something which he had always done. Tom simply swang the door wide open, frozen in his tracks at the sight that was worse than any armed rival could have been.

“Y/N-”

“Let me in,” you whispered, pulling your baggy coat as tight around your cold body as possible, all your clothes draining of water as you stood there, outside in the pouring rain.

He flicked his cigarette and watched it land in a grey puddle, a few desperate strings of smoke floating towards the sky as if they were drowning in the dirty water. Tommy felt the dull ache in his chest slowly spread around, intruding every little bit of his body and he knew he would go mad if he had to stay here any longer. He kept waiting for that soft hand on his shoulder, that bubbling laughter from inside the bar, the one that hid all your sorrows from everyone but him. Tom wished he could go back in time and make everything better, be there for you and pick your pieces up instead of stomping on them on his way out.

He watched you stumble into his living room and throw yourself into one of his most expensive armchairs. Tommy’s face jumped into a painful frown as he thought about the soft material sucking in all the water from your clothes but he didn’t say anything - he simply shut the front door and turned back to you. Your cheeks seemed even more hollow in the light and Tommy felt heartbroken and furious at the same time.

“Where have you been?” He questioned in a low voice, trying to stay calm and collected as if that would fix the mess you had become the past few months. Tommy thought he had been relatively patient while trying to look out for you but he wasn’t sure if that was still what you wanted from him. Technically, you were still a couple and you wore the ring he had given you proudly on your better days but the sight of the tiny piece of jewelry did nothing but turned him bitter now. The promise of marriage was growing into a heavy burden, pressing down on Tommy’s shoulders and he was more and more convinced that he was the most selfish man in history for wanting to send you away in your deepest sorrow, trying to shield himself from your flames.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes, your eyelids getting heavier with every passing minute as the warmth of the fireplace flooded your whole body and your frozen limbs slowly returned to life with a sweet tingle running through them.

All of this didn’t make a difference though. You couldn’t ignore the hellfire raging deep inside of you in an attempt at burning you and everyone around to ashes and looking into its flames had become so mesmerising these past months that you simply couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Everything had shifted out of focus by now and even Tommy, the man you had loved passionately ever since you first met him was but slightly clearer a silhouette than everyone else. You had been turning in on yourself slowly but surely, leaving less and less of hope behind for those that loved you.

Tommy shook his head in the hopes that it would clear out all the memories from the night before for all eternity, providing him with a fresh start, a blank page to start his next chapter on. He didn’t want to erase you - no, he couldn’t do that. Afterall, he still loved you and was grateful you had played a crucial character in so many of the most imprtant chapters in Tommy’s life but he always knew he shouldn’t make himself believe you would stay that loving, harmonious couple you were in the very beginning - especially after you had discovered your great appetite for snow and morphine and god knows what other kinds of drugs you got obsessed with while falling down the rabbit hole.

Tom pulled out another cigarette from the depth of his pocket, suddenly becoming aware of the real destruction of this habit of his, the real damage it was and had been doing to his lungs and he rolled it around slowly between his thumb and index finger as if he was contemplating whether or not he actually wanted to keep doing this to himself. He eventually stuck it in between his lips and felt a perverted kind of excitement at the thought of pure smoke filling up and dirtying his insides, thinking he was deserving of the punishment after all he had done and said to you - even though the actual torture would creep on him slowly over the next years and decades.

He was cruelly pulled back from the downhill of self-distruction the next moment as Tommy turned to see who had intruded on his bitter loneliness and raised an eyebrow at his rosy-cheeked aunt.

“Arthur’s hosted a little bit of tasting of his best liquor if I’m not mistaken?”

Polly frowned at him as she shut the door behind herself and pulled her fur coat tighter around her shoulders, taking the burning cigarette from her nephew’s hand to take a drag. Tommy was sure that soon there would be none left for him.

“Please. Not everyone needs alcohol to have a good time, Thomas,” she remarked, raising the cigarette slowly to her crimson lips to hide a cheeky smile.

“You’re alone with that in this whole fucking town,” Tommy mumbled lowly and looked around as if he was looking down on the whole of Birmingham, seeing all the sorrows and dirty secrets, the skeletons in all those filthy old cupboards. His fingers ran around in his pocket driven by his subconscious and Tom was pulled back into reality only when they touched the tiny cold silver, the only thing you left behind after you had said your final goodbye.

He gathered all the courage hiding deep inside of himself and gave you the coldest piercing look those pale blue eyes had ever cast on you. Tommy could even see you shrink in your seat for a moment before fire lit up in your E/C eyes just again, ready to defend yourself by any means. He couldn’t recall the moment when everything took such a sharp turn for the worse but he felt like it didn’t matter anymore. There was no way he could fix it this time and it was useless dragging out both your suffering too long. However, it was high time he had finally said it all, everything that had been weighing him down.

“I’m literally the last living person who still cares about you, Y/N. When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Do you even realise what you’re doing to yourself? You look horrible,” Tommy let out a cynical chuckle as he looked you up and down, shaking his head and you could feel the angry tears swell up in your eyes, your palm itching to slap his perfect face.

Tommy felt it coming. He was trying to get himself ready for the slap but he was still taken aback by the force your numb and lifeless arms still held. As he took a few steps backwards to regain his balance, you jumped up from the armchair and headed towards him, rage narrowing your sight to your soon-to-be ex-fiancé only. All of it evaporated though when you felt Tommy’s strong hands wrap themselves around your wrists and pulling them into his chest forcefully so you couldn’t get out of his grip so easily. For a moment, you could feel all the anger and determination leave your soul, leaving only vulnerability behind and you got so scared of the possibility of crumbling in Tommy’s arms that you panicked and started trying to escape his grasp, tearing at his white shirt and pushing him with all the force you had left.

“How can you say this to me? How dare you forget that you were the one who got me high the very first time?” You were screaming at the top of your lungs at him and hit his muscly chest one last time before you felt his grip loosen as you pushed him against the wall and trapped him. Your breathing was loud and fast when you looked up at him with the familiar rage back in your eyes. Tom didn’t answer with a word and once you realised he had already ended any kind of relationship he had ever had with you, you scoffed and pulled away, shaking your head in disappointment.

“Fuck you, Thomas Shelby. Fuck your big ass mansion, fuck your cars and horses and fuck your bloody family. Only a madwoman would marry into the Shelby household.”

He looked down at his hand and watched the tiny emerald stone reflect the pale sunshine even in this gloomy Birmingham day. Tommy let out a big sigh before turning to Polly, his aunt raising her eyebrows at him in anticipation.

“I won’t be needing this any time soon, Pol,” he stated and handed the small piece of jewellery to the woman who had given it to him only a few months ago. Tommy knew his aunt was trying to hide her relief but he was too drained and exhausted to listen to Polly give him a lesson about the perfect wife and how Tommy always found the broken ones way too interesting for his own good.

“I probably tor her heart right out, Polly. Try not to look so happy about it.”

He fixed his peaky hat, gave Pol a nod before lighting the last cigarette he had on him and headed home in the dirt and fog of Small Heath, blaming the pinching cold air for the swelling tears in his tired eyes.

[saladejin]

Admire | 05

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Some depressing and painful talk but nothing crazy, a few fluffy and domestic-ish moments for u all, and oh ... there’s only one bed? O_o

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is so different from what it used to be, wow. I was out here changing entire paragraphs lol, but anyway sorry if there are any mistakes! Let me know your thoughts at the end :)

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The road fell away in front of you as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. After a round of brusque insistence on his behalf, you'd finally given in and let Seokjin convince you into relinquishing the driver's seat after a couple of hours on the road. You made sure to grumble in protest before plonking yourself down on the passenger side, him brushing you off easily.

You’d put the memory of the thoughtless kiss to the back of your mind, hoping that he’d forgotten just as swiftly. You were here to enjoy your trip, not to overthink about what had happened in the past. Thinking back on the past 24 hours, you sighed in defeat.

Let’s hope we don’t crash. 

*hours earlier*

You both arrived at the meeting place after countless attempts of stuttering out the most confusing directions to the driver. At this point, you almost wanted to pass out and it was still relatively early. 

Managing to greet all your aunties, uncles, and cousins as a couple of lovebirds came effortlessly enough. It was nothing but a way of life for you and Seokjin these days.

“(Y/n) you’ve grown so much. Oh, I’m going to cry!”

You tried to calm one of your more eccentric aunties while your husband stood awkwardly to the side, looking around at the gathered group of people in contemplation. Dressed casually again, he hadn’t been prepared for the sheer number of everyday individuals preparing to depart. All beside a line of large black and white motorhomes which were currently fuelling up under the shade of nearby woodland.

Once the two of you finally managed to break away from the introductions and reunions, you let out a sigh of relief. You were finally alone, sinking into the refurbished leather seats of the vehicle to regain your composure. Dealing with a horde of chipper relatives can deplete one’s energy like a starved leech if it continues for too long.

“Sorry, they’re just excited.” You laughed airily, leaning forward to switch on the air conditioner. The temperature outside was already heating up from the unforgiving sun, and you were going to positively drown in sweat if you didn’t get some cold air blasting on you lickety-split.

“They’re…lively. But it’s okay, I signed up for it anyway,” the tall man replied with a smirk of his own. He seemed amused at how quickly you'd been swamped, but he also seemed to notice how happy you were at receiving all the attention.

“The first one will probably leave soon. I’ll start driving and then if you want you can switch with me later. We won’t make it to the first stop today, but it’ll most likely end up being late tomorrow morning,” you explained while readying yourself at the wheel of the vehicle. Seokjin hummed in acknowledgement and craned his long neck backwards to ensure your bags were all safe a secure.

You admired how comfortable he looked in his simple travelling clothes. How he could pull off such a simple but effective appearance that highlighted his handsome features, such as his dusky brown eyes and midnight coloured locks of hair - hair that had grown out and gotten nicely longer, you might add - was a complete and utter mystery to you.

“By the way, we don’t have to put on as much of an act here with these people,” you began on a weirdly sombre note, trying not to look over at him for a reaction. “The whole relationship thing doesn’t matter to them as much. They won’t get suspicious or question us, so don’t stress too much about going all out, alright?”

“Okay,” came his simple reply, void of much emotion.

You didn’t know why you expected anything else, but a small part of you longed to continue pretending. You wanted to be with him, wanted to feel his hands on your skin again. It was almost too much for you to handle. You couldn’t imagine anyone else ever feeling so conflicted about their own lover, not to mention having hands on your arms of all places.

Absurd. Right?

Suddenly, the motorhome in front of you began rolling forward and you pressed down slowly on the gas pedal to follow suit. Seokjin twisted his broad shoulders back around to face the front, blinking harshly as the sunlight shone through the windscreen and hit him forcefully in the face.

Your lips quirked up in an amused smirk. What a goof.

*present*

Your eyes drooped with a heavy sleepiness as Seokjin finally pulled the truck into the site where everyone would be camping. The drive had been quite lengthy, but you’d been swapping every few hours or so until you’d become too tired to go on. Being the husband-material he was, Seokjin gladly took the burden of getting you both through the rest of the way.

“Hey wake up, everyone’s getting out for some reason.”

You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and groaned, feeling slightly more energised from your nap but still groggy. You slowly made your way down the steps and outside into the humid air, nostalgic memories finally flowing into your mind as you watched the members of your family collecting around several bright vans.

“Oh, this is the food truck stop,” you rasped out in a matter-of-factly tone, causing Seokjin to eye you in confusion. It was luckily still light enough to catch his dumbfounded expression.

“There are food trucks in this parkland area, so we can go and buy some hot-dogs or something if we want. It’s always the first dinner stop,” you tried to explain mid-yawn. The sky was blending into darkness as the sun began to set below the horizon.

“You’re so sleepy.” Seokjin snorted lowly, almost chuckling when you looked up at him through glaring watery eyes from the yawn, as if it weren’t obvious enough. He looked fairly relaxed, and you gently smiled at the sight of his beautiful eyes lighting up with wonder at the view of the campsite around him.

It was enthralling, how fascinated he was with absolutely everything. Even though the red cap sitting atop his black mop of hair cast a shadow over his face, it was still easy to spot just how eager he was to just enjoy life normally for once. To be a commoner and forget about all the pressed suits he had hanging up at home, the bucket loads of cash sitting in his bank account, the disapproving parents.

Now was the time he could finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

All of a sudden, the tall man left a tap on your shoulder and leaned in close once you faced him curiously. The stuffy fog of sleep was immediately chased away from your whirring mind, and you widened your eyes in shock when one of his hands pulled you closer, indicating what he wanted you to do with a simple touch.

Is he initiating a kiss, for once?

You reacted almost instantly to his subtle body language, everything coming naturally as you stepped in closer and raised your lips to peck his plump ones sweetly. Your whole body was buzzing with eruptions of joy, heat and surprise at the impulse; hands curling into his shirt so that you could feel the warmth of his body even more…for just a little bit longer. It was so rare for him to be bold like this.

For a single second, you forgot what your relationship truly was and felt - for the first time - what it was like to pour your heart into loving another person.

An older man cackled with his friend as they shared a beer together. “My, you young ones are just so passionate, aren’t you?” You swept some hair back behind your ear and ducked your head to hide the embarrassed flush. Or maybe you were trying to hide the stupid smile sitting on your face.

“I’ll get some food for us,” Seokjin said after another few moments of observing the place. You inwardly gaped at him as he moved towards one of the colourful food trucks, wondering if he was going to actually cover you for food.

What's gotten into him? Maybe it’s just because he’s used to putting on a performance, and that it’s such a different setting on top of that.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the fluffy feelings and jogged up to where your dark-haired partner was lining up for hot dogs.

“Do you want me to give you some cash for mine?” you asked hesitantly, gaze imploring for his attention again.

“No, go find a table to sit at,” he murmured, flicking his head upwards to point out a group of empty wooden tables nearby. You were pleasantly surprised at his motive and couldn’t help the way your jaw went slightly slack, simply stunned. Eventually, you complied and headed over towards the seats.

He'd looked so refreshed and so pleased with himself. Even with the weariness brought on by the long and tiresome journey.

The whole area was illuminated by a few atmospheric park lamps, but everyone knew that it would soon grow too dark to stay outside for much longer. Plus, you’d all need a good night’s sleep if you were going to make it to your stop tomorrow. You almost groaned again at the thought of driving so early.

“Here, I forgot to ask what drink you wanted, but you usually like bubbly stuff so I got a soft drink.”

Bit different from champagne, you surmised, but it was cute that he thought like that.

Seokjin placed a can next to where your arm was resting on the tabletop. Then, he held out a delicious looking hot dog sprinkled with fried onion rings, and you couldn’t stop the way your stomach grumbled and growled at the sight.

“I’m a starved woman, thank you.’’

He sat down and glanced around at the groups of people chatting, the strange but somehow never misplaced glimmer of interest never faltering in his eyes. On the other hand, you essentially inhaled the meal in front of you despite how weird it felt to ingest such cheap and fattening food. After months of high-class dining, it was more peculiar than one would think. Even something as unfamiliar as eating such a messy meal didn’t bother either one of you after the day you'd had.

“So, you don’t go around and talk to them much?” Seokjin questioned in a light tone of voice, picking his long and slightly curved fingers clean of any crumbs. The man was picturesque in how calm and concentrated he was. You decided that you liked that look of determination on him, even if it was for something so insignificant.

“I do, but I’m not really in the mood right now.” You sighed, resting your face into your palm so that you could ease the tension in your sore neck. You cast your gaze downwards and hoped that you wouldn’t regret your next words.

“Plus, I kind of want to spend most of my time on this trip with you.”

His eyes stared into yours from across the table, unblinking as he was thrown into one of his strange thoughtful silences.

You rushed to elaborate in a panic. “I-I … well I’ve done this trip many times and I thought it’d be nice to get to know each other a little bit more. We haven’t really asked many questions during the past few months, and I already feel so peaceful travelling together that I thought it’d be cool to just spend some time away from all the parties and shit to really relax and talk, you know?”

Cool? Did I really just say it'd be cool if we talked? Fuck you (Y/n).

You took a rickety breath and clasped both your hands together to try and hide your flustered appearance. With pursed lips and a slight cringe from the ranting accompanying your nerves, you searched his gaze with your own to try your best at reading him.

“Yeah, I know. It would make everything easier if we knew more about each other, so I don’t have to make up more lies,” he eventually spoke after clearing his throat quietly.

You thought he would’ve been more uncomfortable, or rather less than willing to take you up on the suggestion, but you were surprised yet again at his almost enthusiastic response. Was he finally letting you see past the high and sturdy walls he’d built up at the beginning of your relationship? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was coming out of his shell a little as well, but then again it wasn’t as if you knew enough to make that observation in any kind of confidence.

Maybe he's always been more open like this to people he was close with, and you were only just beginning to see this side. Even if that was the case, it made you happy to think that he was starting to trust you enough to change the way he acted. You were content enough to be considered as something close to a friend, at least.

“It’s late. We should head in,” his familiar voice snapped you out of your rampant thoughts, causing your feelings of bewilderment to skyrocket.

I need to keep my shit together!

“Yeah, sorry for spacing out.” You laughed, trying to shrug off the mortification at failing to keep your wits about you. Maybe if he stopped being so oddly charming with his perfect lips and enigmatic eyes, you’d be able to focus a little better.

You made your way to the last motorhome in the line. Seokjin had parked it a little ways from the others, almost as if he’d sensed your need for privacy and solitude. You were somewhat introverted at the best of times, so after a whole day of socialising you really wanted nothing more than to retreat back to your own little space to recuperate.

Had he figured that out, or was it just a lucky guess? Maybe he was just the same…

You followed him into the portable house and weaved yourself around the table and sofa lounges, eventually coming to stop by the comfy looking queen bed at the very back. This was where things would get weird again. You’d never shared a bed before tonight, and the couches weren’t large enough to allow anyone space to sleep either.

“Ah, I guess we don’t have a choice. You don’t mind, do you?” you remarked reluctantly, knowing that you were more than happy to have company in your bed, but he might not feel the same.

“Well what else can I do?” He shrugged with indifference. “I would’ve taken the couch if I could’ve already.”

“Right, sorry I didn’t tell you before we left.”

You sighed, more embarrassment clouding your vision as you hurriedly searched the inside of your suitcase for a flimsy shirt. It was way too hot during the summertime to wear a full set of pyjamas, so you hoped Seokjin wouldn’t feel even more uncomfortable by your choice of clothing.

Better than being naked.

You shuddered with heat at the thought but pushed it all away quickly. This was already bad enough as it was.

“It’s fine, I honestly don’t mind if you don’t,” he grunted while beginning to unbutton his shirt. You swallowed thickly at the sight of his broad chest and collarbone slowly getting revealed the lower he went. That, paired with the way his hair had become messy and rugged after driving and running his hands through it, was a dangerous combination you were enjoying way too much.

“Well, I don’t. Never did." You smiled nervously before moving to the bathroom to get changed.

You knew that sharing a bed with him after so many months was never going to be an easy feat. It was awkward at best, with you trying your best to ignore the thoughts of him being so close - thanks to your fear of doing something unpredictable - and him having no trouble forgetting you were there altogether. It was nothing for him. Somehow, he could just sleep the night away and not think about the presence of other people constantly.

The sound of soft breathing, the occasional movement of a foot or arm, the slight rise of the duvet with every deep inhale, or even the dreamy mumbling slipping past lips every now and again. You envied the peaceful way he drifted off, knowing that living with siblings most likely allowed him to factor these things right out.

For you, they were things that kept your eyes wide open, mind running a million miles a minute.

~

The next morning brought you to the first town on the itinerary. The sleepless night faded away as you parked the large vehicle next to the others, legs already bouncing with excitement at the thought of finally visiting some of your old childhood pastimes.

You all spent the day traipsing through the streets while some of the older family members greeted the shopkeepers and residents heartily. You could feel your heart bursting at the sight of Seokjin looking around the place with wide eyes, obvious amazement lighting up his face as he regarded the interactions of those around him. There was a growing fondness there you never thought you’d see.

One parkland picnic later, and the two of you found yourselves mingling with the crowd. You surprisingly found it easy to talk about your married life together. Even though he was quiet and unsure of how to act, everyone loved Seokjin and found great amusement in teasing and joking around with him. Many times you had to bite your tongue to hold back a snort of laughter. The old uncles and aunties never did hold back their rowdy banter.

“I remember when I was first married, son,” your eldest cousin said and clapped a hand firmly onto Seokjin’s shoulder, “It’s always magical at first, but soon you’ll want to chew your own ear off!”

You all laughed at his sardonic humour. Everyone, even the hopeless romantics, knew that marriage was never supposed to be perfect.

“It can’t be magical the whole time?” Seokjin asked thoughtfully, the tone of his voice light-hearted but the nature of the question way too innocent for your boisterous family to bypass.

Okay, maybe not everyone knew.

You almost choked on your sandwich when the people around you burst into loud laughter, feeling sorry for your husband. He just didn’t know the group of people he was dealing with yet.

The older men clinked their beers together. “Look at this guy, he wants a life-long honeymoon phase!”

“Nah, I think he’s looking for an early grave instead.”

You furrowed your brows and yelled through a smile, “Hey! What do you take me for, a monster?”

They exchanged wide-eyed looks and chuckled again before waving you off and tousling your hair affectionately.

“Be careful or I’ll tell Aunty what you said.” You giggled, trying to fix your messy tresses.

The loud and harmless jesting continued amongst the rest of the group while you turned to see how Seokjin was going with his food. A smile curved your lips again when you spotted the slight crinkle appearing at the corners of his eyes. He was amused, and the way the beaming sunlight streamed down through the tree branches to light up his grinning face was breathtakingly perfect.

His eyes shifted to meet yours suddenly, and you were glad it didn’t cause his expression to change. His gaze, irrevocably beautiful, was so warm and lively. If you could, you would want to see him this happy for the rest of his life.

“Son,” he mouthed quietly after shifting his gaze away from your awestruck scrutiny, “I’m still waiting for my own father to call me that.”

A ruthless stab to your chest. Not only from his words, but rather the lack of emotion he expressed while speaking them.

You didn’t know the kind of relationships he’d had, or how he’d lived his life so far, but trying to find out was like trying to connect with a brick wall. This simple statement about his father had you swallowing back sympathy, and it was upsetting to think that you’d never even once thought to ask him about it.

You wanted – no, you needed him to open up to you.

Quickly sifting through one of the cute picnic baskets led you to find a bundle of sweet packaged snacks. You would do anything to wipe that distantly forlorn look off his face, and universal law stated that candy was sure-fire way to lift anyone’s spirits. You personally loved them, but it was tough to determine if his tastes would match.

“Want a jelly?”

“Wait, you mean-” he started, but cut himself off when you finally fished out a specific packet and let out a small ‘ah!’ of triumph. His eyes shone with recognition, and you became confused at his unexpected reaction.

“I haven’t had these since I was young. They were my favourite, but my mother wanted us to stop eating too many sugary things…” Seokjin revealed, his lips pulling up into a smirk as he recalled his childhood memories.

“Well, you’re on your own now, and I’m not going to stop you. So here.” You chuckled and waited until he’d grabbed a handful of jellies before popping one into your own mouth.

Seokjin shook his head with a huff. He obviously found it stupid how he’d followed the strict rules of his parents for so long, not allowing himself to rebel in the slightest. It had never been an option before, but now here he was – living in a motorhome, eating hot dogs and jellies, basically hitchhiking through old weary towns rather than having his head down working for a big-time business firm.

You watched his eyes trail over you again, almost picking up his phantom of a voice saying, “So this is the life I could have lived.”

It brought a smile to your face as you thought about the way his gaze had lit up and drank everything in with such fervour. His cold and masquerade-like world was changing, he was seeing life from a different perspective, and knowing that you’d played a part in that brought you immense joy.

It was a warm glow of happiness you’d never felt or known before.

Night fell once more. Everyone filtered away to their beds, eyes drooping and bellies full of the various baked goods of the town. It had been an amazing day, and you knew you couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to help Seokjin emerge from his shell.

He seemed to be enjoying the trip for the exact same reasons you always had. Except now, you had another.

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[princesspiratecat]

The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 22: Spring, 1083

(This is a long one, but hopefully worth the read!)

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21

Never before had Gwendolyn felt so happy as she did when her sister had arrived to visit her at her little hovel. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears from flowing, and soon both of them were wiping them away. 

After the servant had left, Gwyn had demanded to know everything, but Gwendolyn didn’t know where to begin. There was so much to tell, and all of it pained her to speak of. 

“Is this really where you are now residing? This little hovel?” Gwyn turned a discerning eye towards the house as they walked nearer to it, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush with shame. She had tried to keep it neat and tidy, but there wasn’t much she could do without a proper set of tools. The hovel was just too poorly constructed for even the most basic of shelters. It felt like a blessing when the weather had finally turned and she no longer had to worry about rain falling on her bed. She could only hope it would not snow or rain again.

“I’m afraid so. The day of my birthday Marcelle hastily had my bags packed and drove me here in a covered wagon. He told me this would be my new home after we arrived. I should have suspected something that morning based on his behavior.....but I fear, I blindly trusted him.”

“Do not blame yourself. How could you have known what he was going to do? This has taken us all by surprise. When I found out you had been sent away, I could hardly believe it. It is Marcelle that must take the blame, not you.” As they reached the front room, Gwendolyn stoked the fire and began to prepare a meal, as the sun would be setting soon and she imagined her sister must be hungry. She immediately noticed how much food there was in the basket, and it was of better quality than what she normally was given.

 “What do you mean, us? How did you come to find out that I was here in the first place?” They sat down to a nice hot bowl of soup Gwendolyn had made from a fat hare she had caught yesterday. 

“I didn’t. Francine wrote about a month ago, and the letter had been given to me by Oswin.”

“Oswin? You mean, Oswald’s younger brother?”

“The very same, yes. I had thought it strange that she hadn’t invited me to visit her for such a long time, but in the letter she explained that she had suddenly been forbidden to see me by Marcelle, yet didn’t say why. In her next letter, she told me that the engagement had been broken off, and you had been sent away, but that she didn’t know where you had gone. When I confronted Aélfgiva about seeing you, she said she would talk to Marcelle. Not long afterwards, he wrote to say that a servant would fetch me in the morning to take me to you, and here I am.”

The humiliation that Gwendolyn had endured upon being sent off was awful in and of itself, but the idea that her entire family was now somehow tainted, and not good enough to associate with any of the Allards, hurt her even more. “ I had not thought that my exile had been extended to my entire family. This is worse than I had imagined.” 

“What exactly did he say to you? How did he justify his actions!? How could he bring you to this shithole, in the middle of a forest?!”

Slowly, Gwendolyn revealed all that her sister did not yet know. She tried not to dwell on the parts of the story that were especially painful, and rushed through his unkind words when he had dragged their family down to the mud, implying that they were nothing. She found it was nearly impossible for her to say the exact words he had said about their father, because the loss of him was still fresh pain for both of them. But somehow she got through it all, and then shared how she now viewed everything. 

“This hovel....this dung heap of a house, is his feeling about me, about us- made manifest and clear. But it’s worse than our house was. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to endure. And I was left alone to fend for myself when the snow storm came. I had to find food for myself, otherwise I would have starved.”

There was such anger on her sister’s face at hearing those words. “What about your dowry?! We had so many excellent animals. Surely it was worth more than this!”

“Oh Gwyn.....don’t you see? This is my dowry. This hovel is now all that I have....” Putting her troubles into words made them all the more real and soon Gwendolyn could not stop the sobs from violently shaking her body again. She got up and leaned her head against the counter, as the tears just kept on coming. 

Gwyn said nothing, but silently cried as well. 

“I’ve been clinging to the idea of Frances for months now. And I cannot understand why he hasn’t come to see me, even if it’s just to say goodbye. Am I really so terrible that I do not deserve such simple consideration? How can I be his future bride one day, and the next not even fit to say a single word to him? I cannot make sense of it......” she was sobbing so hard now that she could not continue. 

“Oh, please don’t upset yourself further. I do not believe Frances has any idea where you are”, said Gwyn. That got her attention and her head snapped up.

“What!?”

“I do not believe any of them know. Marcelle must have kept it a secret from all of them, because if one of them knew, they would all find out. Frédérique would never keep a secret like that from her brother, nor would Francine. The letter that she sent made it clear. He could not write to you, so she wrote to me. And that is why Marcelle forbade any of them from speaking to any of us.”

“I had not considered that. But....you must be right.”

“Perhaps that is also why Marcelle sent me a map and allowed me to see you. He still thinks that his children will blindly obey him. Indeed, he must feel very comfortable with that idea, which is why he didn’t think it necessary to keep you and I apart any longer. If his children don’t speak to us, he has no reason to continue punishing you.”

“Yes. He may also not want to be seen as the type of man who punishes two young girls who have done nothing wrong. I noticed how he sent a lot more food, of higher quality this time around. He even sent linens. He has never done that before. He wants to appear the good benefactor still- at least to you and Aélfgiva.”

After a long silence Gwendolyn gained some composure of herself and sat down by the fire again, staring into the orange flickering flames. It gave her some relief to know that Frances didn’t know where she was, and perhaps hadn’t given into his father so easily. Everything her sister had said made perfect sense. 

“I like to think that Marcelle has some heart left. I like to think that he still cares about us. Only his pride got in the way", said Gywn. Her sentiments may have been true, but Gwendolyn no longer wished to think about him. It was now time to turn their minds to the task of getting her out, and how they would accomplish that.  

“I must speak with Frances. I must. I have had so long to ponder the situation, if I don’t get any answers, I fear I will lose my mind and go mad.”

"Of course you shall. And I will assist you in any way that I can.”

The next morning they poured over the map and calculated that Gwendolyn had been taken over twenty miles from the Allard estate to the hovel, which was in the middle of two very small villages that neither had heard of. Having no money and few resources, the main obstacle in her leaving would be where she would go. She could not stay at the orphanage, and of course going back to the estate was impossible. 

“If only you had parted on better terms with Oswald, then perhaps we could ask his family”, Gwyn said. 

“What better way could there have been? Oswald did not want to break off the engagement for any reason. I tried to spare his feelings as best as I could, but given that I hadn’t seen him for so long....it was difficult. I realized that day that he had changed beyond recognition to me, and I no longer knew him.”

“You have been engaged most of your life to someone, and yet still remain unmarried. Do you not ever wish you had married Oswald instead? At least you would not be alone now.” 

Gwendolyn’s features clouded into sadness, as she had realized the same thing her sister spoke of from the very beginning of her troubles. Her life seemed to consist of always waiting, always hoping, always dreaming of having a family of her own and finding that she belonged somewhere, and she resented it. 

“Maybe, but would I have been happy? What Frances and I had was real, and what Oswald and I had was a youthful fancy. I know that now that I am older. I can never go back.” 

When they tallied up their resources, it was decided that Gwyn would return home when the servant came to fetch her, as was planned. She would then combine the meager allowance she and Edith were given at the orphanage, and income from the pelts of the animals Gwendolyn had caught, and try to procure a horse. Then she would ride back and come and fetch her sister, then they would ride to Grimsby. She would speak with Frances at any cost and Gwyn agreed that it was imperative that she do so- even if it meant further punishment from Marcelle.

The next morning was a cold one, and snow began again to fall upon the ground, but only lightly. Despite the foul weather she knew she would have to shelter herself from, she felt better than she had in months. 

“You have Mama’s strength, and you will get through this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She tenderly embraced her sister goodbye, and watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller as it slowly disappeared down the road, which was beginning to freeze. She sat down upon a log and got lost in her thoughts, contemplating how happy the visit had made her. It had brought her comfort, relief from her loneliness, and hope all at once. She was lucky that she still had some family left, even if they were orphans now. I’m not alone. I have the love of my sisters. 

She turned to head into the house, but then heard a horse in the distance and stopped to listen. It was the sound of a single horse, and she wondered if something had gone wrong with the wagon. Was her sister in trouble? The sound grew closer and closer, and she headed back down the path to the road, shivering slightly in the cold. But it was not the servant or her sister on this horse. It was Frances.

[elias-veturius-laia-of-serra]

A Sky Beyond The Storm: SPOILERY Review

*!!BEWARE!! A Sky Beyond The Storm Spoilers below. And it’s not just a little of them. It is FULL BLOWN COMPLETE SPOILERS! SO BEWARE! DO NOT READ THIS REVIEW IF YOU HAVEN’T READ A SKY BEYOND THE STORM!*

[CAUTION] This is all my opinion so please don’t leave anything negative. Or send hate or think this is a welcome post to start arguing. I’m only posting this cause sadly my friends have not finished the book yet and it’s been five days since I’ve finished and I have yet to be able to explore how I fully feel about the book. Thankfully writing this tired me out and completely reflected everything I feel! It was the perfect outlet! I also wrote it all in one go just pouring all my emotions out so if the grammar is bad or some things don’t make sense. I’m sorry! I’ll be sure to edit this at some point ❤️

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Wow.

Five years. I had stuck to this series for five years and it’s always given me love, heartache, pain, loss, but most importantly hope. 

I want to start off by talking about how happy I was with how Laia’s arc was handled. Usually when you have a “weak” and frightened protagonist their growth is mainly focused on how quick they can shed that image and because something else entirely. How they can become an ultra badass that is able to hack and slice through their enemies and become this killer warrior machine, but Laia Of Serra is not a killer. And that’s been reiterated throughout the books. She feels too much, cares too much, and loves too much. She mourns the for any lives lost even if it is the enemy. She hates taking lives cause she sees no reason to take one even if it is for the greater good. As shown in Torch and Sky, She cries after she accidentally that man. She’s wrecked with guilt when she accidentally kills that jinn. At the people who fall during this war. Laia Of Serra isn’t a killer. She’s hope. She’s love. She’s understanding. And many people do see that as weakness but I love that Laia is able to harness these emotions that make her human as use it as strength. That at the end of the day she isn’t a badass savage girl who lost everything and is out for blood. She’s still just Laia and I wouldn’t have it any other way! Being a big emotional scaredy cat I am I’ve never been able to relate to the big badass skilled warriors that can take down armies of men. I wish to be like them but the reality is I’m not. So I never thought I could see myself being a hero or doing any good if the time for me to be one ever came, but Laia really conveys that strength is more than just being able to shed blood and kill people. That it’s okay to cry, to be scared, to feel sad, and be insecure. Brown girls are always so used to being silenced and taught to behave in order to survive. That’s been our story for a long time but Laia was able to turn our meekness, our fragility, our fear, and our insecurities into something strong. Into something that moves her forward, that taught her how to fight, and that  ultimately makes her victorious. The Her final scene with the Nightbringer was beautiful and utterly heartbreaking.

Which brings me to the Nightbringer.  I used to hate him so much unable to understand him. I found his anger equivalent to that of an edgy teen that got told “No” too many times. But despite his cruelty book 4 really opened my eyes. Despite all the deaths and rage Sabaa has managed to also convey all his loneliness, his sadness, his hopelessness, his loss, and how all this pain had driven him to believe this was the only way he’d be able to be at peace. To get rid of the world that had been so cold to him. To get rid of a world that made him feel unaccepted and had taken away everything that mattered to him until all he had left was the broken pieces of himself with no one there to help him pick them up. I loved the Nightbringer here. I learned to respect him so much. He’s carried so much pain and loneliness for thousands of years in hopes to gain back what he has lost. I was finally able to sympathize with him and much like Laia - I didn’t hate him anymore. Couldn’t hate him. Of course what he did was wrong but it’s hard to wish more unfortunate things upon someone whose whole life has been nothing but misfortune. I loved his story with Rehmat. Their love though mentioned briefly was a beautiful thing and I found I wanted nothing more than him to be able to be with her again and to be able to feel that love again. I used to cringe and loathe the idea of Nightbringer and Laia being romantic but this book opened my eyes into seeing that that isn’t it at all. I mean yes he is in love with her but that’s just the kind of person he is. He loves. He’s the beloved. He has many loves. As his queen once said, he loves too much. So it isn’t about sparkly forbidden romance. It’s the fact that Meherya had love for all things and to be betrayed because of it had hardened his heart. Laia knows what this feels like. So to see her hold him and tell him it’s okay. That his feelings are valid and the world turned it’s back on him first, but he can’t blame all life for that. That she knows deep within him he still loves, he still hopes, and he must hold onto that. Skies, nearly made me cry. Then by the end when he is able to tell her goodbye with a hand to her cheek and she knows despite everything he still loves her - I nearly started bawling. Because he truly is the beloved and he did not deserve all those who took his love then basically spat in his face. I was happy to finally see him be able to reunite with Rehmat. His one true love and his only queen. Cause I know through her and finally leaving this world - he will be able to finally be at peace.

Now onto the next character. Elias. WHEEEEW! He was as cold as Sabaa promised. So distant and stoic. Reading about him through Laia’s P.O.V. was so heartbreaking. Yet reading through his was ALMOST worse. Where as Laia can’t find her Elias we are able to see little cracks of it. He still looks at her for too long. Lingers at the thought of her for too long. His heart beats faster when she is around when it shouldn’t. He remembers things he shouldn’t. Being around her is too hard because she is everything he had originally fought for. Inner Elias still sees her as his home and his freedom. However his cold demeanor was nearly too much for me! I even almost contemplated unstanning my favorite OTP in the world when he left her to the jinn. Though I think a lot of that mainly has to do with the fact cause we see how much he loves her. He’s risked so much for her so to see him abandon her was like a slap in the face and truly showed how much he has changed, but thankfully there was hundreds of pages left for him to make up for it. And of course in an Elias fashion he did. When the nightbringer had her captive he couldn’t get himself to leave her again. When he saw Laia scratched up after falling into a river and his thoughts immediately thought of ways to defeat this river (I cackled). When he told her he wouldn’t be able to help if she were to get in trouble trying to steal the Nightbringer’s scythe and yet he came in seconds the moment she called to him cause nothing else mattered as soon as he heard her voice. When Elias realized Mauth had completely weakened his first reaction was to run to Laia and while she had been frozen haunted by realizing what she had done it was Elias who ran in front of the storm to get her away from it and nearly sacrificing his life in order to keep her safe. I mean HOW CAN I NOT FORGIVE HIM AFTER ALL THAT!? I couldn’t stop the emotions running through when he was able to finally meet his father. When he was able to see the life he could’ve had if war and pain hadn’t tainted it. Then his final strive to live. Him fully coming back as Elias Veturius and chanting Always Victorious to come back to the world of the living. It was everything! Elias has been a death magnet throughout this series. His whole has made his hands drenched in blood and making him live a life so dirty that he believes at many moments is a life that isn’t worth living anymore. That he’s too damaged. Too callous. Too tainted to be considered worthy of anything, but in the end when the time came he pushed to life. He fought to be more than his mistakes. To be more than a symbol of death. He chose to live. 

I will continue with the characters but here’s a short break to speak about my most prized possession: Elaia. So I already explained a good chunk in Elias’s snippet, but we ALL know they need their own portion for one to get their feelings out more clearly. Elias and Laia’s love as usual isn’t easy and broke me time and time again. One minute my heart flutters and I’m on the edge of my seat in hope and then the next it’s like I get a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. Their relationship was especially rough in the beginning. Elias pulled away consistently and though watching Laia try her hardest to break through was admirable it hurt all the more every time it failed. Yet even through all the hurt my heart still fluttered. The way she purposely said things, or did certain things, in order to get a rise out of him was such a delight to watch. Elias and his rocks ended with both Laia and I sad but I still can’t help how wholesome it felt to see them banter. Laia sitting on the boulder in the middle of his “workout”, him casually hoisting her over his shoulder, putting her down, and just to have her spring back up and follow him to continue the conversation. Who knew seeing two people talk about pets could get a giggle out of me. The last three hundred pages I’d say are the best. Cause this is when the Soul Catcher slowly begins to soften up. He lets himself care about Laia more. Lets himself get lost in her more. I had to put the book down after the mango scene just to catch my breath! I won’t lie and pretend I didn’t enjoy all the steamy scenes. I did and nearly fainted at every single one of them, but it was the soft moments between Soul Catcher and Laia that stood out the most. When she was sad and he’d hold her, the way he was so attached to the armlet that thought that he had lost it made him tear his cabin apart, when he went to find her to tell her to leave the waiting place but couldn’t help but stare at her instead, telling her he prefers being called Elias from her, still putting her first then then disguising it saying he is only doing it for his duty to the ghosts, and the way the old him springs up constantly whenever she’s around. Every little detail was a hit to the heart! Especially Laia telling Elias that he had no right to dictate her emotions. He has no right to tell her how to fell. She loves him and she finds him worthy of it and he cannot take that away. He can’t make her stop loving him. It was everything to see her always declaring how much she loved him seeing as she never got to at the end of Reaper. And now she won’t let him stop hearing it. Won’t let him not know it or forget it. Even their sex scene felt more than just steamy smut. It was so wholesome as they laughed together for the first time in a long time, the way he saw her as perfect, and by the end of it to have Laia speak about how she wanted everything with him forever. It made their ending all the more sweeter. I had made so many jokes before SKY about them finally being able to do it, about them practically being married, the wooden armlet being an engagement ring, and them being endgame and hoping that at least one of these would come true. Little did I know every single one would. Little did I know that the ending I have been hoping for but was 99% sure I’d never get was exactly what I’d get and more. Sabaa Tahir has truly spoiled me and I don’t deserve it but I will thank her a million times for it!

Next Character: Helene. Oh boy. Unpopular opinion but I had a strong dislike for Helene for a long time. I thank Sabaa for giving her a P.O.V. though. Cause without it all I and many others would see is colonizer and oppressor. Evil. Wrong. Wicked. I hated Helene in the first book. Tolerated her in the second. Found her likeable in the third. Then ultimately fell in love with her in the fourth. I found book 4 Helene to be the very best Helene she could be. Her finally letting her emotions break through is what ended up captivating me. Her scene as she slayed Karkauns all the while crying gave me chills in REAPER. THAT to me was strength . THAT was what reminded me as badass as Helene is she’s still human. She falters, she makes mistakes, she cries, she wins, she loses, and it isn’t power that ultimately drives her. For her too it is love. Love for family, love for friends, and love for her people. Her friendship with Laia made my heart bloom. I wish we could’ve had more of it! I also wish we could’ve seen it develop more but I also understand that this is the last book and I’d rather spend it seeing two queens getting along then bicker like they had been in the last three books. I loved watching them tease each other, them grin while talking about blasted men, Helene feeling like she can stand taller when Laia compliments her, and Laia ultimately being the first scholar to hail her as Empress. And all her fighting scenes!? BEST FIGHTING SCENES I’VE EVER READ! Helene is ruthless, she is brutal, she isn’t afraid to be stained in blood, and will defeat anyone in her way. I found myself so excited in my reread when I saw I was approaching those scenes. She is flawless in battle and I found myself completely entrapped by her. Slicing off heads, arms, and striding into every battle with her head held high. I was about ready to fight Harper to let her be with me instead! Her P.O.V.s had actually been my least favorite through book 2 and 3. Book 4 made me so happy that I got to go from chapter to chapter like: Oh yay! Laia! Oh yay Elias! Oh yay! Helene! I was able to be excited throughout the whole thing knowing each character was going to give me something good! Also I found her a lot funnier this time around! And Lord knows how I love my women bossy, sarcastic, and blunt.  I know a lot of people are angry about her ending. I was deeply saddened by it too. I used to think as a colonizer serves her right to lose everything! Why should I feel bad when she’s scoffed at the lives of the scholars and shrugged her shoulders at slavery for the longest time but of course that ended up biting me in the ass. I understand Sabaa’s reasoning. Helene has took for the longest time. So now it has come full circle for her to experience what that feels like for the other side. All those scholars who too lost a sister, brother, mother, father, and lover that she took away without a second glance when oppressing them. I loved that Sabaa protrays it in a way that before as someone who despised her, I can’t even be happy about it. Instead I am empty. Lost. Hurt. It shows all the more how useless war and vengeance is. We think more deaths and kills will make us feel better. It does not. Instead I found myself days later still haunted by what happened between her and Avitas. And now I wish nothing more but Helene to find happiness. To have more days laughing with Laia and reluctantly letting her braid her hair and dress her up. More teasing and reminiscing between her and her once best friend, Elias. And possibly something new and exciting and fulfilling with Musa. (Which I will touch on in it’s own paragraph haha)

Next: Avitas. Hmmm. Here’s the thing. I don’t hate Avitas. His moments with the shrike were meaningful and his presence is what ultimately led to breaking through her hard exterior. He taught Helene how to be just a girl again. How to feel without being weak. How love can be strength. I loved that he was able to bring out a more vulnerable side of her and show to her that it wasn’t a weakness. Every part of her is strong. Every part of her is beautiful. Every part of her he loves. That moment especially when she declares herself as broken and his eyes are wet with tears feeling for her. That he tells her being broken cannot stop her. It just makes her all the more of a force to reckon with. He was exactly what Helene needed in this time of war. Exactly what she needed to stay tethered to the world and faithful to herself. Sadly however I couldn’t get myself to connect with him. He was so reserved, so quiet, and so serious most of the time. It was hard to gather much from him. The little cracks of his demeanor whenever he was around Helene helped soften me. His fierce loyalty to her alone and understanding that a girl like her doesn’t need protection. She can very well take care of herself but it wasn’t about that. He just loved her too much to ever stop worrying. It ached something fierce within me. His death also haunted me for days and still does. Though I think it did hurt a little less cause I wasn’t attached to him. It was hard to considering how little I feel I still know about him and his thoughts and feelings. Plus his final scene with Elias at the waiting place brought me peace. He died for the person he loved and now he gets to reunite with his family. He wanted to leave and so he did. May Avitas Harper rest in peace and never be forgotten.

Next: Darin. His death ruined me. He was the sole purpose Laia went on this journey in the first place. He was the first person to always believe in her. He was the only family she (thought) she had left. He was one of Laia’s biggest fans and nothing else mattered more to him than her. He based so much of his life pushing Laia forward and encouraging her and getting her to laugh again even during the darkest of times. The way he pinched her cheeks before bidding her goodbye, the way he went back to find Laia and fight beside her, the way he teased her about Elias making the both of us laugh, and how even in his final moments before crossing over he wanted to know how his sister was doing. If she had won. Then being able to pass in peace proudly when he found out that she had. And his final words telling Elias that if there’s one person who can make up for all the love she’s lost it’s him. He will be missed greatly. So much so!

Next: Faris. Faris has been here since the beginning His last scene with the shrike also ruined me. I had to put the book down cause I was so hurt. Faris was a giant teddy bear always spewing jokes and being a clueless but brave boy. To see him go down like that though admirable still broke me nonetheless. Especially despite knowing a lot about them I loved him and Dex very much! I also thought maybe him and Livia could have their own happy ending, but I hoped too hard ):

Next: Livia. I bet you can guess this hurt very much as well. I loved Livia so much. She was such a powerful girl thrust into this world of politics and tyrants and held her own. My love first ignited in Reaper and only shined brighter in SKY. My jaw dropped and once again the book went down when Keris killed her. I was so broken. She was so full of life, witty, brave, sweet, and just as fierce as her sister. I wished she could’ve stayed!

Next: Musa. My FAVORITE secondary character in the whole series. Words cannot describe how much I love Musa and it saddens me to see that he is so underrated. Though I’m happy that even Sabaa says that he is one of her favorites! Musa was a light in every dark moment. I’m always a sap for handsome snarky sarcastic comedic relief characters with a tragic past. I loved that he was the one to always joke first despite how much he hurts. That he was the one always encouraging those around him to fight for love even though he lost his. I loved that he called Laia little sister and how his mere presence around her could make Elias go feral. Surprisingly most of all I loved his relationship with Helene.

Now here is yet another break from character talk to talk about another pair. Musa and Helene. I know it’s wrong. Helene had just lost Avitas and they are two broken people right now. But like said just for a moment, together, they make a whole. I never even thought of a possibility between the two. It felt so random. Awkward even. Though upon my reread I can see the little hints. Musa and Helene practically spend most of the book at each other’s side. They fight together, they encourage each other, they argue, and they see each other. Two people always putting on a brave face no matter how much they hurt. I was surprised to feel myself smiling at their bickering. Helene tends to be an uptight stoic person but around Musa she can’t help but smile and laugh as easy as it is to breathe. The way she endearingly considers him pretty. Around Musa she can’t help but talk about her feelings and him to her. The way she held his hand when they found out about Nikla’s death and how even when Harper went to talk to him he still wouldn’t let go of her. And their final scene together at the end of SKY. SO MANY FEELS! I CAN’T HELP THE FLUTTER OF HOPE I FEEL! Their bickering even cuter! Their vulnerability to each other even more powerful! All the while still respecting their past loves and understanding they can still mourn and yet live and strive for more. Absolutely perfect! Seeing Helene not close herself up after yet again losing in love was such a beautiful thing to me. Her telling Musa she’d like it if he stayed and him obviously happy about it but feigning arrogance instead is so him it only makes me love him more. Makes me love them more. Makes me hope! This could just be Sabaa testing the waters but Helene does still owe him a favor and I hope to the skies above Sabaa will be giving us that tale soon!

Next Character: Keris. I loved how she was handled as well. Learning about her past explained so much and yet erased nothing. I loved being able to learn more about her. I loved being able to see all the suffering she went through that we didn’t know about that turned shaped her into the cruel person she is today. How some of her actions still can’t be fully understood cause Keris herself probably doesn’t understand it either. I love that we are able to see her point of view and understand het and yet it’s plainly obvious that Keris has made her grave. Now it’s time for her to lie in it. It’s such a painful yet satisfying thing to see her reunite with her mother’s ghost. To be confronted by all her misdoings as Karinna looks at her in hope and then disdain upon seeing all the blood on her hands. From then she is unable to see her as her daughter leaving Keris ultimately alone and to confront all the wrongs she had cause to get to where she is. I felt it more fitting that Mirra killed her. Marcus is the one who took the Bloodshrike’s family away from her so it is only fair that Helene got to kill him. While Keris is the one who tortured Cook and her family. Forced Mirra’s hand to kill her own family just so they won’t have to suffer under Keris anymore. So it felt right to me that Mirra finally got to have the last word. I also loved how Mirra was able to take away all of Keris’s pain until she was reduced to nothing but a girl again before she was tainted. Then ultimately passed on. I found this a incredibly satisfying end to her arc.

Lastly: Mirra. I LOVED that Mirra was able to come back. I LOVED that Sabaa wasn’t cruel enough to leave Laia alone. Since Helene had baby Zacharias. Elias has Quin. Laia would’ve had no one. And I loved that Elias and Helene teared up also happy to see that Laia still had one person left. I loved that cook admits to her faults and how broken she herself is. How vengeance took over her and led her astray. But there is no one she loves more in this world than Laia. That she will fight everything and anyone just to ensure Laia will have a place in this world. I also loved her sense of humor. Had me cackling when she demanded Mauth to come talk to her and when she casually calls Elias her son in law. I loved her teaming up with the Bloodshrike! I love the big reveal leading up to it. It was all just so perfect for me!

In conclusion: Do I have my criticisms? Yes. There are a few things I wish to change. I thought Keenan was mentioned too much in the beginning. I found their relationship especially in book 2 very unhealthy so to hear her mention it and him as something to miss made me quite uncomfortable. Though I suppose it’s also just the thought of missing an ally and a friend cause there was a time where she had no one but Keenan to rely on. I wish we could’ve had more Helene and Laia scenes! Seeing her smile in a long time because Elias and Laia had their happy ending did wonders to my soul! I wish we could’ve had more scenes of Elias, Laia, and Helene all working together. I wish we could’ve had more scenes of Elias and Laia fighting side by side. Especially since I’ve always wanted scenes of them fighting together. The ones we got in SKY were EVERYTHING! I just wish we could’ve had more of that instead of them walking in the forest and pages of him being cold to her. I wish Avitas and Elias could’ve bonded more. To see them two be so reserved and yet so happy to be able to meet was such a gift. And yet they only fully spoke in two scenes ): I wish Darin and Laia got to spend more time together. I wish Laia could’ve gotten more scenes with her scythe. Or that we could’ve gotten more scenes of Laia with her bow and arrows. However these are minor things and do not take away much from my overall feeling for this book. 

Which is I am in love with this book. It is my new favorite book of all time. Of any other book ever. I think it is the best book in the series and the fact that Sabaa is so proud of it and says it’s the best book she ever wrote. I can’t help but agree and give A Sky Beyond The Storms a sky full of stars. The ending is everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more. It makes saying goodbye hurt less knowing my faves are alive, happy, and have finally found a place to call home. I love that we end off on Elias and Laia getting engaged and walking off to get ready to start a new life together. I couldn’t of asked for a better ending. Sabaa really outdid herself and I hope she gets all the praise and all the awards for this divine book and her flawless story telling. Truly one of the best Kehannis out there ❤️

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

iii. Hushed conversation in-between kisses

An autumn drizzle poured onto the Akhrosimova house from the dimmed grey skies above the construct. Not an ounce of blue skies could be seen behind the blanket of clouds that crowded above but there was some sunlight poking through the thinner layers of clouds. It was a brightness not suited for reading without a light on in one’s room but it was enough to reveal a person’s features should find themselves seated by a window to watch the shower. The occasional rickety sounds of a carriage passing by the estate would interrupt the peace of the place but as soon as it was gone, the silence came down heavy, save for the pattering of the rain.

Dressed in nothing but loosened corsets, Hélène Kuragina and Marya Dmitrievna sat opposite one another upon a window seat, leaning on either side of the wall. There they sat not as a countess or grand dame but as two simple women stripped of their expensive lives. Silks, pearls, gems and cloth had been discarded on the floor by the red velvet bed, not forgotten but abandoned for this very moment. Secretly, they enjoyed this lifestyle. One kept behind a locked door. They did not have to cover the lipstick stains that colored their skin where they were not meant to be or redo their hair that was out of their usual styles or even address one another with their society’s formalities. They were free to be who they wanted to be but only behind the two grand doors that hid them away from the prying eyes of society.

Neither spoke. There was a conversation that came and went but it had been pause as they relished in the silence and in each other’s company, but their attentions were diverted. Hélène found the rain fascinating to stare at, or perhaps it was a thought that had distracted her as she gazed at the glazed window. As for Marya, her attention wavered from the cigarette between her index and middle finger to Hélène. The woman was truly enchanting. Even when she did not have a face full of make-up or pearls around that exquisite neck, she was a sight to marvel. Bare neck littered with kisses, gorgeous brunette curls that pooled down her shoulders, a leg dangling off the seat and one brought to her chest, and a faraway look. Lords, it was hard to tear her eyes away from one so angelic. Wordlessly, Marya tapped Hélène’s knee and held out the cigarette which was taken out of her hand rather quickly.

Hélène took a long drag from the cigarette that had been passed over to her, her chest rising slowly as she inhaled until she could no more. She only removed the bud from her lips to exhale, lowering her head so that it did not bother the woman who sat opposite her upon the window seat. Her wine glass was dry of its contents for a third time, and it was left untouched despite the evidently unfinished bottle of wine sat beside it. Her eyes were now lowered to stare at her feet instead of the window and lazily, she took another swig of bitter smoke.

Marya was not certain if these were signs to be wary of. She was not done with her second glass as her concern for the brunette refrained her from taking another sip to a hazy state of mind.

Hélène had proven herself to be an unreadable woman and it was all thanks to the man she called her father. Marya reserved no praises for that monster of a man for turning his own daughter to a delicately carved marble sculpture. She was fragile as she was cold and beautiful. One nudge would send her toppling over from the stand she had been built on. Marya hated that she could never figure the Kuragina out. Though, she knew what it was that was haunting her at this very moment. The conversation resumed from where they had stopped it.

“There’s nothing left to do,” Marya spoke up.

“I don’t need a reminder, Masha.” Hélène’s voice was raspy from the mixture of nicotine and alcohol, but it was clear with hurt. From the way she frowned, it showed she had not meant to let slip of the emotion.

“I know… I’m sorry.” Marya D. never apologized but somewhere inside her felt obliged to.

Shaking her head, Hélène scowled. “Why are you apologizing? It should be my parents, not you. You’ve never done anything wrong.”

Marya sighed and she plucked the remainder of the cigarette from Hélène’s fingertips to stop her. “I have no way to help you, Hélène.”

“Your company is enough, you know that. I don’t ask much from you, do I?” Hélène lifted her eyes to meet Marya’s grey hues. Her brown ones were so hollow.

“You don’t.”

“Then I don’t see why you should apologize for having nothing to offer when you’re always giving me what I need.”

“Could Pierre not offer the same?”

Hélène let out a harsh laugh. “No- I… I don’t want to be around him. His company is worthless to me. When I’m with him, I feel lonelier.”

“But”-

“He’s my husband by law, not by will. It’s only a term to officiate a person’s place in a marriage as is the term ‘wife’. I’m sure you understand,” Hélène scoffed.

Then Hélène turned away again. Something stung at the tip of her tongue to be said, Marya could tell based on the way Hélène moved and responded to her hesitation. The twitch of her lips, her blank wide-eyed fixation on nothing in particular and how she brought her hands together in deep contemplation. Why she was so cautious of her words in front of Marya, she could not find the answer. Hélène had always been a vocal one in society and crowds. Why could she not speak to a single individual who had much lesser significance?

Reaching over, Hélène picked up the bottle of wine and tipped her head to take a large gulp. Marya would have assumed that it was an attempt to flush out her feelings and the question that had been plaguing her. It was not uncommon of Hélène to avoid such a sensitive topic but after another gulp or two, Marya was met with the sight of solemn eyes and flushed cheeks. The drink had been intended to break down her walls and to wash away any regret that would creep up on her for asking such a question.

She trusted Marya to see her in vulnerability and God, did she have so much of hope that the woman would not let her fall and shatter like so many people had in her years of living. For one so young, she was already worn and ruined. Here she was exposed in front of Marya. Marya was truly a sight for sore eyes. Even with a face bare of make-up, her youth came from her own features. Soft pale skin, eyes that glittered underneath any source of light and red lips that complemented her complexion. And Hélène? Behind the make-up were tired eyes with dark rims of exhaustion, freckled cheeks kissed by the sun (tainted imperfection, her father once pointed out) and lips chapped from neglect and alcohol. She did not have half of what Marya did and it made her feel so small.

Hélène contemplated for a moment and with a trembling breath, she whispered, “Will you still love me, Marya?”

Bafflement was an understatement when Marya caught her words and quite unsure with herself, she inched closer to Hélène. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“Will you still love me in the years to come? That is if you even love me now… Masha, I need to know this, please,” Hélène implored as she slumped against the wall hopelessly.

“I do love you, my dear… And I will always. Maybe even more so since I can’t have you.”

“Really? Even if I were to bear his child?”

Marya snorted but not rudely, just light-heartedly. “Is this the same Elena I’ve been speaking to for years?” That made Hélène laugh lightly. “You would never carry a child. You’ve said it yourself.”

“I know but… If it ever happens, will you still love me?”

“You and the child, both, Lena... Now, will you stop worrying about the future? It’s not like you to be so worried.”

Hélène pointed a finger at Marya accusatorily. “That is where you’re wrong… I’m always worrying.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Marya tossed the burning cigarette into her wine glass then held her arms out to Hélène. “Come here.”

Hélène crawled over to Marya and slid right onto her lap. Her arms moved to wrap around her neck while her legs clung on to her waist in a secured hug. Her head came to rest on Marya’s shoulder and her hands carefully brushed the locks of fiery red hair away to tuck behind the other woman’s ear. Marya enveloped Hélène in her arms and pressed a long affectionate kiss upon the crown of her head.

Over the smell of tobacco and wine, Marya could smell the perfume that Hélène wore. It was the same scent that would linger on her side of the bed every time she woke up to find that Hélène had gone home… Back to her husband that she did not love. Hélène had no such luxury of waking up to a reminder that she was not alone in the safety of her own home. Much less a place she could confidently call home. The Bezukhov household held no such title.

In just a few moments, maybe a few minutes or hours, Hélène would have to return to that forsaken building to face her intoxicated husband. She could hold her alcohol but that man had no existing ability. Hélène was aware of his temper but Marya was not. It would be horrible to tell Marya just how horrid her old friend could be when she spoke so highly of him… Maybe one day when she was not in the state of mind to over-evaluate herself. The thought of having to return soon made Hélène clutch onto Marya tighter, as if for dear life, and she buried her face in her shoulder so deeply, she might just vanish into the older woman’s embrace.

“Masha, I don’t want to lose you…”

“Nonsense. What makes you think you will?”

“I don’t know… Your reputation? Your place in society. Your honor.”

Tutting softly, Marya pulled away from Hélène to lift her head up gently by her chin. “Lena, dearest. I love you… I love you with all my heart. My honor and place will never last anyway.”

“But you’ll be sent to your ruin.”

“And you won’t?”

A pause. “I’m… I’m already ruined.”

“There’s always a way to restore yourself. But putting society aside… My dear, I don’t love you as the Grand Dame of Moscow. Even if I lost my title, I would still love you all the same.”

“But”-

Before Hélène could finish her sentence, Marya pressed a kiss to her lips to silence her. Hélène, without protest, melted into the kiss and eased her shoulders to slouch against Marya. They pulled away for a breath and Hélène connected their foreheads, a hand coming to rest on Marya’s cheek. To misspend their last moments together for the day stressing their heads off was not ideal. It was not that Marya did not wish to acknowledge Hélène’s feelings. It was the fact that she did not want Hélène to return home with dread weighing on her, and there was a chance that this could be the very last time they saw each other until a few months. Neither would want to reminisce their final moments together that had been wasted away in sadness.

“No more worrying, okay?” Marya murmured as she planted another kiss on her lips.

“No more,” Hélène agreed and she gave Marya a small peck on the lips. “I love you, ma belle.”

And another kiss. “I love you too, my dear.”

“Will you write to me…?”

Marya smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

Hélène beamed at Marya and gave her a loving kiss. The first genuine smile of the evening. “I’ll write back as soon as I receive your letters.”

“You’d better.”

“Is that a threat, Akhrosimova?” Hélène’s lips brushed against Marya’s and they quirked up into a drunken grin.

Marya rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss Hélène again. “Perhaps.”

“Ooh~ Feisty.”

After exchanging many more kisses and holding onto one another for what seemed like hours, Hélène left the Akhrosimova household with a sweet smile and a new found sense of hope that had blossomed in her. Marya prayed to God above that no harm would ever come to the Kuragina. Seeing her so happy sparked so much of joy within the older woman and oh what she would give to always see that pure smile upon Hélène’s beautiful feature.

[localswordlesbian]

look at you (strawberry blond)

Jon suddenly brings up the idea of returning to the Scottish Safehouse, years after the events that first happen there. That house holds a lot of memories, and perhaps this will be a sort of second chance...

(also known as my dumb ass keeps forgetting to post my fics to tumblr so i’m gonna spam them)

read it on ao3 or below the cut

“We should go back to Scotland.”

Martin turned his gaze from his book to look at Jon, whose head was resting in his lap. “What?”

Jon kept his eyes on his own book which he was holding out in front of him. “I was just thinking about it,” he mused. “It’s been a while since we were there, and I figured now that everything is over, perhaps we’ll have a nicer time this time around. We may even see more good cows,” he added with a wry smile.

Martin chuckled, running his fingers through Jon’s hair, twirling one of the light pink strands around one finger. “Should’ve known you only wanted to go for the cows,” he teased, and Jon laughed. “Seriously, though, what brought this on?”

Jon didn’t answer for a moment, as if contemplating the same question. “I suppose I was thinking… well, Daisy’s safehouse was the first time we were, ah, together? Together and not on the run, though that didn’t last long,” he added bitterly, and Martin’s heart ached. “I suppose I’d like to go back, perhaps give it another go, when we actually do have all the time in the world.”

Martin considered this. He had loved Scotland, and the quaint little cottage that Daisy had used as a safehouse, where he and Jon had lain low after Jon had helped Martin escape from the clutches of the Lonely. He remembered the little village nearby fondly, with the cobblestone paths and small shops – he especially remembered the little tea shop run by an old lady who had always given him a little extra tea on top of whatever he bought. Grimly, he wondered whether she was still alive.

“Martin?”

Martin looked at Jon, who had closed his book and was looking up at him, a strand of his hair still curled around Martin’s finger. “You know what?” he said. “Let’s do it.”

The sounds of the train rattling along the tracks kept Martin awake as he stared out the window – raindrops ran down the glass, and Martin found him unable to tear his eyes as he watched two stream downwards. He was reminded of being a child, watching two raindrops race down the window of the school bus as he was on his way to school on the rainy mornings that were essential to the London experience.

Some stray warmth was beginning to seep into his fingers where he was clutching them around a piping hot cup of tea, still steaming enough to fog up his glasses if he tried to take a sip. He tore his gaze from the window to stare, amazed at the sensation and how it seemed to hesitate, his hands not quite warm and certainly not hot, but almost as though a ghost of something comforting lingering just over his skin.

He knew the tea was hot enough to burn him if he wasn’t careful, yet only the barest hint of warmth seemed to reach him. Still, it was progress. His fingers had been like ice since he and Jon had left London, as if some part of him desperately wanted to keep some part of the Lonely close to him even as he sped as far away from it as he possibly could.

He turned his gaze back out the window, holding onto the feeling of warmth long after the tea had gone cold. He didn’t even bother to drink it.

“It’s weird, coming here by car.”

Jon turned to look back at Martin as they walked up the small hill to Daisy’s cottage. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he mused. “Though it doesn’t seem to have changed much.”

He was right – the cottage was the same as it had been the last time they’d seen it, its red bricks as sturdy as ever despite being abandoned for a couple of years. As they walked inside, Martin could see that the interior hadn’t changed either – same shabby furniture, long-unused fireplace, cramped kitchen, and wooden shelves cluttered with more cobwebs than books.

Jon went to place his bag in the bedroom, but Martin stood in the living room for a long moment, letting himself take it all in. The cottage may not have changed, but there was something much heavier than dust hanging in the air, and Martin felt the familiar feeling of a painful nostalgia settle over him. The memories were almost tangible, and they hurt.

It had been almost a week, and Martin wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing.

He knew they were in Daisy’s safehouse to lay low, to hide from the consequences of freeing Martin from the Lonely. He knew Elias – Jonah – was searching for them, likely knew exactly where they were, and London was no longer safe for them.

He also knew he and Jon were… something. He wasn’t entirely sure what to call them – were they boyfriends? Martin almost laughed at that. Somehow, the gravity of what they’d been through to get to this point made that question, that label, seem almost ridiculous. He’d nearly become a meal for the literal manifestation of loneliness, and now he had run away to Scotland with the man he’d been in love with for years and he was wondering whether they were boyfriends.

He was standing in the kitchen, preparing two mugs of tea, the same way he’d been doing for the past few years. It had become such a force of habit that sometimes, after work, he’d caught himself accidentally making double the tea he needed. The memory brought a slight smile to his face as he poured the boiling water into the mugs and watched the steam curl up and vanish into the air.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned in time to see Jon come out of the bedroom, his nose buried in a book. Martin felt a flutter in his chest, and he smiled as Jon looked up and met his eyes. “Tea?”

Jon nodded, and Martin handed him one of the mugs before turning to finish his up. He hardly registered when Jon moved to get past him, muttering “Excuse me,” as he maneuvered into the small space, until he felt Jon’s hand on his back.

Martin felt all of his muscles seize up as he flinched, hard. His hip hit the counter as a gasp escaped him at that contact, and although Jon moved his hand away immediately Martin could feel the phantom weight of it clinging, as though branded into him.

The memory of touch, of casual touch, was so foreign to him now and he could hardly remember the last time someone had touched him of their own volition – had it been Tim, slinging his arm over Martin’s shoulders on their way out of the Institute for their weekly Friday night drinks? Or perhaps Sasha, touching her hand to his as he handed her a mug of tea, gently squeezing his fingers in thanks? Maybe even Melanie, placing a hand on his shoulder when he’d learned the news of Jon’s fate after the Unknowing?

And then there was, of course, the Lonely, and even the months leading up to it. His work for Peter Lukas had involved distancing himself from everyone he’d known, making human connection a foreign concept in his own mind, forcing him to convince himself he liked it alone, that he didn’t crave the easy interaction most people could have with others, if only so that he could retain his sanity. That long without any sort of human contact – it was bound to damage a person.

Martin, it seemed, was no exception.

“Martin?” he heard Jon ask faintly, his ears ringing and his entire body shaking. “Martin, are you okay?”

He slowly turned his head to where Jon was standing, in front of him but not touching him, his hands in front of him as though he wanted to reach out but was afraid to. Jon’s eyes were sad, and Martin hated seeing Jon sad. “I’m fine.” His voice sounded far away, even to his own ears.

“No, you’re not,” Jon insisted. “I–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have asked.”

“It’s not your fault.” Feeling was coming back to Martin’s body, and he felt his shaking subside. He felt – off. He didn’t know how to describe this feeling of detachment that, although fading, left the feeling of Jon’s hand and an emptiness in his chest.

“Martin,” Jon’s voice was soft as he said his name, and when Martin looked at him he saw a man with worry and compassion and love in his eyes, and he knew he wanted to be cared for the way he’d been caring for others for so many years. He looked down at Jon’s hands, unsure of how to form words.

Turns out, he didn’t need to. Jon lifted his arms, and at Martin’s nod, wrapped him into a hug, and Martin let himself weep.

“What are you thinking about?”

Martin was shaken out of his thoughts by Jon, who returned from the bedroom wearing a jumper that looked oddly familiar. “Just about the last time we were here,” Martin confessed. “Also, isn’t that my jumper?”

It definitely was – it hung loosely off of Jon’s thin frame, the sleeves ending well past the tips of his fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon huffed. He walked over to where Martin was standing and slowly put his arms around Martin’s middle, giving him plenty of time to move away.

Martin didn’t move away, simply embraced Jon back. “You know,” he began. “For once, I’m really actually starting to see the progress I’ve made.” Jon hummed into his shoulder, and Martin continued. “Before, I couldn’t see it as clearly. It was hard to recognize where I started from, what with being in a completely new place in my life and how long it took to get there. But here, where it literally all began – god, I can still remember the first time you touched me, when you put your hand on my shoulder when I made you tea.”

“You nearly leapt out of your skin,” Jon said, his voice quiet.

“Yeah. It was terrifying, experiencing, I don’t know, actual human contact after months – maybe years, even, completely isolated. And now… now here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.” They were silent for a moment. “I’m proud of you, and I’m happy with the progress we’ve made.”

“Me too, Jon. Me too.”

The nearby town was really more of a village, Martin thought. After spending his entire life between the busy streets of London, this felt like something straight out of a cartoon, and although he knew it was typical of big city tourists, he couldn’t help but find it charming.

He’d gone into town alone today, already having explored the area with Jon a few days prior and wanting to visit a couple of the shops on his own.

The clouds hung a moisture in the sky that made the air around him feel thick, and Martin couldn’t help but shiver at how familiar it felt, and not because it was always raining in London. He decided to focus instead on what he could see – the weeds poking out from between the cobblestones under his feet, and people; lots of people, making their way into bakeries and grocery stores as well as little shops and stopping at stalls along the side of the street. Seeing all this life, this vibrant environment made as it was by the people made Martin smile a bit, and he finally drew a deep breath and kept walking.

Finally, he saw the shop he was looking for, an unassuming spot near the market with flower baskets hanging from the edge of the roof. Smiling, Martin made his way inside and was greeted with the familiar scent of mixed tea leaves and old wood.

An elderly woman sat in a chair by one of the walls displaying several different types of tea, and she looked up at the sound of the bell above the door being rung. She smiled at him and stood. “How can I help you?”

Martin walked over to her, examining the stock on the shelves. “I was just hoping to buy some tea,” he explained. “Is there anything you’d recommend?”

The old woman pondered this, seeming to look him up and down in a way that made Martin feel a little jumpy, like he was a specimen being studied under a microscope. The woman hobbled over to the shelf and lifted her cane to knock a bag of tea off the shelf.

“Oh!” Martin exclaimed. “Let me get that.” He reached up and grabbed the bag she was poking, a bag of Black Cherry tea. “Thank you.”

The old woman held her hand out for the bag, and Martin passed it to her. He watched as she rustled around under the counter, cursing under her breath as she pulled out a jar of what seemed to contain the same type of tea as was in the bag. She opened the bag and began scooping more in before closing it once it was filled to the brim. Then, she told him the price.

He paid for it and took the bag, bewildered as to why she’d added more. “Thank you,” he said, almost hesitantly.

The old woman smiled at him. “For that man of yours,” she explained. “You two came in here a few days ago.”

Martin was surprised that she’d remembered, and the words “man of yours” caused a blush to creep up his cheeks. “Ah, yeah, um… yeah,” he said lamely, and the woman smiled. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“Enjoy,” was all she said before returning to her chair, and Martin walked out of the shop.

“Oh my god!” Martin exclaimed, a laugh escaping him. “They’re still here!”

Jon chuckled as Martin took off running up the hill, the wind from the sea stinging his face as he approached the fence, behind which stood several fluffy highland cows.

The pair had walked through town that morning, remembering their time spent there years ago. Martin had asked that they stop by the tea shop, and was unsurprised to find out that the old lady had since passed away, leaving the shop to her son. Despite knowing it was likely, Martin was saddened by the news. All in all, the town had remained as it had always been, quaint and buzzing with life.

Jon made his way up the hill, where Martin was already reaching out to pet one of the cows, a dark brown creature with fur covering its eyes. It let out a deep moo as Martin wrapped his arms around its neck, burying his face in its fur.

“I really don’t think that’s sanitary,” Jon commented.

“Shut up, Jon.”

Jon chuckled before walking over, reaching out to pet the cow as well. The creature seemed delighted to be receiving all of this sudden attention, standing still while two random humans petted and hugged it. “This really does bring me back to the good parts of last time.”

Martin nodded in agreement. “It wasn’t all bad,” he mused. “Even when it was mostly bad.”

Jon laughed dryly. “Yes. I only wish it could have lasted longer.”

“Jon.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault.” Jon was deliberately keeping his eyes trained on the cow, his fingers buried in its fur. “I know that. I just – I do still wonder, sometimes. I feel that perhaps I didn’t take enough advantage of the time we did have. Even at the Institute… I feel like such a fool, sometimes. It was all right in front of me, and I didn’t see it. And when I did see it, you were… gone.”

Martin watched him, sadness filling his heart and making his chest feel heavy. “I know. It’s a bit funny, actually. Thinking about it now. We could have had an incredible office romance, but instead we got trapped in our hell of a workplace by not one but two evil eldritch bosses. What a drag.”

Jon snorted. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Martin placed his hand over Jon’s, right on top of the cow’s head. The cow, for its part, didn’t seem to care that a deeply personal moment was going on – it still loved the attention. Martin could hardly blame it. “We have time now,” he said simply. “I know it’s… it’s easy to look back and see all the pieces you missed on the way to where you are now. But now we don’t need to worry about any of that, so let’s enjoy it, yeah? Not often you get a second chance.”

Jon smiled up at him. “You’re right.”

The day the world ended, Martin had been looking for the cows.

He could still remember the moment it all changed, as though someone had flipped a switch and launched Martin into a realm of nightmares – in a way, that was exactly what had happened. Martin’s first thought once he came to his senses was Jon. Racing back to the house, his heart pounding at the thought that Jon might be dead, that he might be gone, that Martin might return and find him–

Years after the world ended, Martin stood in that tiny kitchen, preparing two mugs of Black Cherry tea while Jon washed the dishes from their dinner, humming a song Martin recognized but couldn’t remember the name of. When Jon needed to get past Martin, he placed a hand on his shoulder, and Martin would turn and smile at him. They’d share a quick kiss as they went about their chores, and once they were done they would sip their tea, put a record to play on Daisy’s beat up old record player, and enjoy each other’s company.

Martin could still feel the phantom hand on his back. He wondered if he’d ever feel like a person again .

Martin stood as an upbeat song played, holding his hand out to Jon, who accepted the invitation with a laugh that filled the room with lightness and joy and love. They danced until they were too tired to dance, collapsing onto the couch in fits of laughter, holding each other and not letting go.

He knew his days here were numbered. He knew they didn’t have forever.

He knew they’d have to return soon, go back to London and back to work and back to the life they’d spent so long building for themselves. But they could enjoy themselves here in Scotland just a little longer.

He wished he could ask Jon how he was feeling. He wished he could remember how to interact, how to have a relationship with someone he cared about. He wished he could reach out, tell Jon how he felt. Ask him if he felt the same way. He knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know if he ever would.

That night, they were laying in their bed, about to go to sleep. Jon’s head was nestled on Martin’s chest, rising and falling with each of Martin’s breaths. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard Jon speak. “Martin?”

“Hm?”

Jon paused for a moment. “Thank you.”

Martin craned his neck to look at his boyfriend. “What for?”

Jon shrugged, causing his shoulder to poke Martin’s. “I don’t know. All of it.”

Martin smiled. “You’re welcome, then. And thank you; you know, for all of it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

They drifted off, safe in each other’s arms, knowing with full certainty that whatever the night brought, whatever horrors might resurface in the realm of dreams, that morning would come and they would be able to savour it for many more mornings to come.