#is knowing that everything can change so quickly

[clockwayswrites]

The Birdritch's Nest part 25

masterpost

“That is a lot of plants,” Jason said. He swept his eyes over the space as he slipped his lock picks back into their little pouch.

“He has a botanist friend, apparently, and she keeps giving him plants,” Dick explained as he squeezed past Jason and into the apartment.

“Why are you here again?”

“Because I have a car which is better to carry all of Danny’s stuff in than your bike,” Dick explained. He went over to the wall of plants in front of the windowed corner and squinted down at something on his phone.

Jason pulled out his own phone to glance at what Tim had sent. “You say ‘all Danny’s stuff’ like the list was long. The guy hasn’t exactly been demanding.”

“The ‘guy’ expects to actually go home in a few days,” Dick pointed out.

“And is an adult and so can, you know, actually go home,” Jason retorted.

“Damian’s attached.”

“…I concede to your point,” Jason said once that thought sunk in. “Double the clothing asked for?”

“Basically. Make sure that he has a weeks worth, Alfred can always do laundry,” Dick said before letting out a little noise of triumph and doing something over by the plants. “There, watering system turned on.”

“Congratulations, you’re a genius,” Jason drawled. “Now go get his medication gathered up and snoop a little while you’re at it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be snooping,” Dick, words a teasing sing-song as he passed by.

Jason flicked him off. “Like you wouldn’t anyways. I just want to know what you find.”

“Only if you tell me what you find in the bedroom.”

“Deal.”

The bedroom was almost startlingly normal after the plant filled living main room. It didn’t look like Danny really spent much time in it beyond sleeping. The bed was absentmindedly fixed, a black down comforter over pale blue sheets. There was a paperback on the nightstand next to a lamp and a pocket sized notebook with a pen clipped onto the bent and battered cover.

It was the first thing that Jason picked up.

The notebook was obviously where Danny made notes when he was already settled in bed. As Jason flipped through the pages there was everything from to-do lists to invention ideas to… a lot of thought about wings. Jason turned the notebook in his hands. That page wasn’t in English. The language felt like it was on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he just couldn’t get it out.

Maybe some sort of dialect?

Jason couldn’t actually read it, but there was enough to piece together from similarities that tugged on his memory. Enough to understand it was about the wings. Something about the process of change? Aging?

“Hey Jay?” Dick interrupted, scattering Jason’s thoughts. “Can you read the label on these bottles? There’s some serious printing issues happening, I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”

The pill bottle felt oddly cold in Jason’s hand when he took it from Dick, but maybe the bathroom just had shit heating in this place. It would be just like Gotham builders to mess that up.

“Oh, that’s the same thing Danny is writing in here,” Jason said passing the notebook to Dick. “It’s something about wings and getting old, I think, but I can’t really read it.”

“Read it? I don’t even know what it is. Gives me a headache just to look at it,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the notebook. “The whole bird thing has really been on his mind, hasn’t it?”

Jason gave a little huff. “Do you blame him? The guy has wings now. It would be on my mind too.”

“Yeah… guess I really can’t,” Dick said and snapped a picture of the page with the unknown writing to send to the group chat. “Any idea what it is?”

“Nope. It’s like it’s a distant dialect or that it uses some of the same alphabet of something I learned some of once. Like how Chinese and Japanese use some of the same characters, you know?” Jason explained as he opened the side table drawer and then quickly closed it again. That was more than he needed to know about Danny. “Maybe something from when I was catatonic in the league, who knows. There were a lot of languages in that place.”

“Cass or Damian might now it then,” Dick said as he eyed the drawer Jason had now moved away from.

“Don’t, trust me,” Jason said. “Did you get the medications you needed to grab?”

“Yeah, they’re in the bag. Just a standard bathroom, really. Though he keeps his toothbrush in this old mug with a hero I don’t recognize on it, someone called Phantom.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but it sure sounds like a hero name. Add it to the list,” Jason said as he started on gathering up the requested clothing and extra enough to last a week. “Check the closet to see if there are any shits in there that work around wings.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Dick threw the closet doors open dramatically and focused on his task. Jeans, sweatpants, underwear, what he guessed was pajamas were all added to the bag.

“So, nothing that looks like it was made for wings,” Dick said and tossed some normal shirts and a few sweaters into the bag. Jason sighed and folded them neatly. “Maybe he hasn’t had time to find any yet? It hasn’t been that long since the bird thing and seems it all started there. Or maybe he’s just always home when he’s had then?”

“Better let Alfred know then. He’ll want to get something as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dick agreed.

While Dick stepped out of the bedroom to call Alfred, Jason took the time to double check the list. It really was pretty basic. Jason didn’t know if Danny was just trying to not be demanding or if the guy didn’t need much, but Jason went ahead and put the bedside paperback and notebook in the bad too. Jason slung the duffel bag Dick had brought over his shoulder (he totally could have ridden his bike like this) and took a little bit of time to snoop through Danny’s bookcase while Dick finished the call. Sci-fi, horror, old text books, and a ton of notebooks filled the shelf with knickknacks and a few figures. Jason at least had to give Danny points for having some of the sci-fi classics, even if the range of works was pretty limited.

“Okay, Alfred is on it,” Dick said. “Anything else we need to do?”

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Jason said. Something made him not want to look through the notebooks, like they had already done enough snooping. It was an odd feeling. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry for whatever dinner is.”

“You’re always hungry,” Dick said.

Jason shrugged rather than dealing with how true that statement was. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a trash pit.”

“Yeah, you want to go there, cereal boy?”

“Leave my cereal out of it!”

---

AN: I do love writing Dick & Jason so much. Can you tell I have an older brother? Also sorry for the mistakes I'm sure are abounding. Guess who turns out to be anemic? This critter! Maybe getting that fixed will help...

[southbynorth994]

I had no idea how my life was about to change when I asked that girl out on a simple date. Her name was Isabella. I had seen her around town, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, and her eyes—her eyes were a perfect shade of deep brown, mysterious yet warm, like a rich cup of coffee. She seemed different from the usual crowd, more reserved, but her smile could light up a room.

When she said yes to my invitation to dinner, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world. We chose a quiet, cozy Italian restaurant on the edge of town, away from the hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem, with candlelight flickering on every table and a soft hum of Italian opera in the background. We talked for hours. She was charming, funny, and intelligent, and I was captivated by every word she said. She seemed so ordinary, in the best way possible, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I might have just met someone truly special.

As the evening came to an end, I walked her to her car, a sleek black Audi. She thanked me for the night, her eyes sparkling, and I felt like the world was at my feet. I promised to call her again, to arrange another date soon, and she smiled, nodding in agreement.

But that’s when things took a strange turn.

The next morning, I was at work when I got a phone call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but something told me to answer.

“Is this Brian Holden?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

“Yeah, who is this?”

“My name is Vito. Vito Romano. We need to talk.”

I froze. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Romano. That was the name of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city. I had heard whispers about them. Stories of violence, power, and influence. And Vito Romano? He was the patriarch—the boss.

“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “What do you want from me?”

“I think you know,” Vito said, his voice calm but chilling. “You took my daughter out last night.”

I felt my blood run cold. My stomach dropped. Isabella was his daughter? The girl I had taken on a date?

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly, trying to explain myself. “I swear, I didn’t know. I thought she was just a normal—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Vito interrupted. “What matters now is how you handle this situation. My daughter was not just any girl, and you will treat her with respect, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes… yes, I understand,” I stammered.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Vito spoke again.

“I’ll be at your place in an hour. Be ready to speak to me.”

I hung up the phone, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe it. I had just accidentally asked the mafia boss’s daughter on a date. What had I gotten myself into?

An hour later, a black SUV pulled up outside my apartment. My doorbell rang, and I opened it to find two imposing men in dark suits standing on my doorstep. One of them was holding a leather briefcase, the other had a scowl on his face. Behind them, I saw Vito himself, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a presence that made everything around him feel small.

“Brian Holden?” he asked, his voice calm but intimidating.

“Y-yes,” I replied.

“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking toward the car. The two men followed, and I had no choice but to follow as well.

We drove for what felt like forever, the tension in the car suffocating. When we arrived at a large, gated mansion, I felt like I had entered another world. Vito led me inside, his presence commanding every inch of the grand house. We sat down in a lavishly decorated room, and Vito motioned for me to take a seat.

“I don’t know what you were thinking, taking my daughter out without knowing who she is,” Vito said, his tone softening just slightly. “But I can see that you’re not the type of man who would intentionally disrespect the Romano family.”

I swallowed hard, still in disbelief.

“I… I had no idea. I swear. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Vito studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I believe you. Isabella speaks highly of you. And in this family, that counts for something.”

I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

“So, what happens now?” I asked cautiously.

Vito smiled—a rare, approving smile. “You’ll be a part of the family, Brian. You have my blessing. But remember this: we look out for our own, and you’ll do the same. Understood?”

I nodded, my mouth dry. “Understood.”

And just like that, I found myself welcomed into the heart of the mafia—a place I never imagined I’d be, all because of a simple date with a beautiful girl.

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“You’re awfully cheerful.” The villain leaned back on the hero’s couch and cocked their head. There was only a hint of a smirk but the hero didn’t need more than that to determine their nemesis’ mood.

It was all about the subtle movements.

A twitching eyebrow. A look at their own shoes. A breath taken in a little too quickly.

The hero knew the villain - knew every little detail about their behaviour, knew what they were feeling. Feelings were one thing, facts on the other hand…the hero didn’t know what their nemesis was planning, nor what their next move was. They could tell when the villain was angry, disappointed, amused. But why…?

Nevertheless, the hero smiled and lounged in their armchair, making themselves as comfortable as possible in their own home.

“I’m trying this new thing…having a positive mindset and all. You know, not taking everything so serious.”

“Someone blew up your car today,” the villain pointed out. They stared at the bottle of wine the hero had opened an hour ago. Half finished. “You must be quite upset.”

“I’m kind of grateful, actually.”

“Grateful?” The villain raised a brow and the hero tilted their head. It must have looked rather confident. Cocky, almost. Whether it was the little bit of alcohol or the situation in general - the hero did feel a bit cocky.

“Yeah, I mean. I’m glad I wasn’t in the car when it exploded. That’s a reason to celebrate.”

“Someone knows you’re involved with me,” the villain said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” the hero answered.

“Evidence suggests it, though.”

The hero whistled, impressed. Their eyes widened and something inside them wanted this to be their fault.

“What else is the evidence suggesting, Detective?” The hero let their eyebrows wiggle and took a sip of the wine. They liked to think that not only the villain was changing the hero but that the hero was also influencing their nemesis.

Detective. The villain was definitely smart enough to be one and, Lord, the hero would have loved to see that brilliant mind work on cases with them.

The hero smiled to themselves. Fantasising about the villain being their partner wasn’t new. But it was entertaining. Over and over again.

“That you’re not careful enough.”

“Hm?”

“You got into a fight again. Your knuckles are bruised. Someone blew up your car today. And all you do is sit here and drink,” the villain said. A twitching eyebrow. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” The hero’s eyes narrowed. “Scared your favourite hero will end up dead?”

The villain’s face didn’t change and at first, they didn’t say anything.

So, the hero observed them carefully.

Their relationship was at a point that suggested they were either hooking up or just really good friends. For the neighbours, it was normal to let the villain in. And for the hero, it was normal to visit the villain in their lair.

Quite risky. Quite rewarding, too.

Exchanging information was crucial to the both of them.

Additionally, the hero kind of liked them.

“I would get you a bodyguard but as of right now, I can’t guarantee that whoever wanted to kill you today isn’t one of my men.” A look at the ground and the hero had to frown. “I’ll take care of that, obviously.”

“You want to hire a bodyguard? For me?” the hero asked. They chuckled into their wineglass.

“No, I won’t hire anyone. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

“Huh?!” The hero’s grip around the glass tightened.

“You’re irreplaceable as informant and in case you die, all your secrets which means all my secrets are very likely to see the light of day. The files on your computer won’t stay hidden forever. I’d like to avoid that.”

“I think I can take care of myself.” The hero looked at the wine. Did that mean the villain wanted to move into this apartment?

The hero blushed softly.

More reasons for the neighbours to gossip about a possible relationship. Jeez.

“I don’t think so,” the villain said. “I haven’t threatened you in weeks, so don’t make me do it. I won’t debate this. I need you alive and I don’t trust anyone enough to do this job right now. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t get a say in this?” the hero asked. They laughed at the absurdity.

“No.” The villain’s voice was stern now.

“Hm.” Slowly, the hero finished the glass and set it down on the little table between them and the villain. “Maybe it’ll be fun to watch you follow me around like a dog.”

A blush.

“Call it whatever you want.”

And that’s how the both of them became roommates.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer gasped as his wrists were bound and lifted above his head. He felt tentacles wrap around his ankles and spread his legs.

Adam: You know, darling. Not once have you had a taste of what I can do with my cock. I think it's about time we change that~.

Lucifer tugged at the tentacles. He was sire if he put in all of his strength, he'd eventually be able to break out. But Adam was only a slot or two below him, power wise.

He ran Adam's words through his head and quickly blushed. He hasn't bottomed in a long time. Not since Lilith. And that wasn't the best.

Lucifer: I-I haven't- not since Lili-.

Adam kissed Lucifer softly: Don't mention her name. Not here. Not now. You focus on me, alright?

Lucifer nodded. Shuddering as Adam's hand pulled up his shirt, his nails trailing softly over his torso before finding his chest.

Adam: I always thought it was funny that they made angels have nipples, seeing as we weren't meant to breed. But they feel so good, don't they, Luci?

Lucifer quickly nodded, his breath catching as Adam rolled his nipples between his fingers.

Adam: I'm going to fuck you so good, Luci. Going to make you forget everything. I'll even use your cum as lube~. Seeing as you're making me hold onto it~.

Lucifer blushed as Adam rolled his hips against him. He could feel the plug as he moved.

Lucifer: N-Need you-.

Adam: Oh darling. I'm just getting started! You made me suffer for a whole day~. I could string you up, where no will find you, and play with you for as long as I want~. You'd look so lovely hanging from my ceiling. Or shall we do it in the forest? Your skin looks flawless in gold~.

Lucifer whines as Adam starts to such on his skin, leaving small bite marks. His claws run down his sides before his hands settle on Lucifer's hips.

Adam: Oh, the fun we're going to have~.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[marysfics]

Through the Dust

Alexia Putellas x DownhillRacer!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

This is a multichapter fic, and trust me, you’re in for one wild ride. Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Grief, Kisses.

Word count: 1.8k

Chapter 6: ''The Brink of Something Real''

A few weeks had passed since the mountain cabin, and things had settled into an almost comfortable rhythm. You and Alexia had stayed in touch, messages and calls filling the spaces in between your busy schedules. She was back in Spain now, her pre-season training ramping up with the team, but even then, you could feel the connection between you two still lingering, soft and unspoken. You weren’t rushing into anything, not yet. You both needed time to figure out what it all meant—whatever "it" was—but there was a comfort in knowing that she was there. That you were talking.

You couldn’t say no when they asked you. It was an opportunity you’d dreamed of—an event that had long been seen as a men’s-only challenge. But now? It felt like everything had changed. And while the course scared you more than you cared to admit, it also pushed you to the edge in a way nothing else had. This was your chance. But, as always, the nervous buzz of competition made it hard to keep your mind focused on anything else.

Before the race, Alexia had called you. She’d been insistent, her voice a mix of teasing and something softer underneath.

"I’m watching, you know," she’d said, almost defiantly, like she was challenging herself to be there. "I’m dragging my mother and sister in front of the TV to watch you."

You had to laugh, picturing her usual unflappable self being so... invested. "Are they even into downhill racing?" you asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

Alexia’s chuckle filled your ears. "My sister is asking more questions than I can answer, and my mom keeps raising an eyebrow at me. She doesn’t get it, but... I think she knows it’s important. She sees me getting all nervous."

You felt a soft heat in your chest at the thought of Alexia’s family watching you. Nervous? You smiled, pushing aside the flutter of excitement and anxiety that came with it. "Tell them to keep their eyes peeled. I’ll show them how it’s done."

A little later in Alexia's apartment, Alexia was sitting with her arms crossed, her legs bouncing restlessly. She kept glancing at her phone, waiting for the race to begin. It was strange for Eli and Alba, having Alexia—who had never shown much interest in extreme sports—suddenly insisting that they watch a dangerous downhill cycling race. Eli had her reservations, but when Alexia had insisted so strongly, she knew something was going on.

"Why are we watching this again?" Alba asked, eyeing the screen with confusion as she adjusted the pillows on the couch. "Since when do you watch things like this, Ale?"

Alexia didn’t answer immediately, focusing instead on the screen where the pre-race interviews were playing. She had a nervous energy about her that Eli couldn’t ignore, the way her daughter’s foot tapped restlessly against the floor. It was clear to Eli that this race was more than just a race for Alexia.

Her eyes narrowed, a knowing look passing between her and Alba. “You’re nervous,” Eli said softly, watching her daughter closely. “Why? What’s going on?”

Alexia froze for a moment, her lips pressing together as she looked at her mom, but then her gaze drifted back to the screen. “I’m not nervous. I just… want her to be safe. It’s her last race of the season, Mom.”

Alba leaned in with interest, still oblivious. “Safe? Who are you talking about, Ale? You barely even know the riders."

Eli raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You never watch anything like this, Ale. But now you’re glued to it?” She paused, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “It’s about more than just the race, isn’t it?”

Alexia’s face flushed slightly, and she avoided her mother’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, but the slight blush creeping up her neck told Eli everything she needed to know.

Alba looked back and forth between them, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? What’s going on, Ale?”

Eli watched Alexia, sensing the moment of truth. Finally, she broke her silence, her voice soft but teasing. “Ale, are you seeing someone from this race?”

Alexia’s face turned bright red. “Maybe,” she mumbled, but it was enough to send Alba into a state of shock.

“Oh my God,” Alba gasped, her eyes wide. “Are you dating someone from the race? What is this? You’ve never been like this before!”

Alexia let out a small groan, her face still flushed. “It’s not like that, okay? She’s planning to visit soon. After this, she’s got the off-season. She’ll come here, and… we’ll see how it goes.” Her words were rushed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, but there was something undeniably soft in the way she said it.

Eli smiled warmly at her daughter, sensing the subtle shift in Alexia’s energy as she spoke about you. "Well, it sounds like you’re really fond of her," Eli said, her voice gentle but knowing. "It’s nice to see you like this, Ale. I haven't seen you this excited about someone in a long time."

Alexia’s face flushed again, a little more this time, and she glanced at the TV where you were making your way toward the finish line. "It’s just... different, Mom. She’s different. I just... feel good when I talk to her." Her voice trailed off slightly, as if unsure of how to explain what she was feeling, but the sincerity in her words was clear. "And she’s been through a lot, too. I respect that."

Alba tilted her head, still processing the information. “Wait a second. Are you telling me you’re seeing a woman, Ale?” The question was blunt, but there was no judgment in it, just the curiosity of a younger sister trying to make sense of something new.

Alexia opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. There was something about this moment, a quiet realization that maybe she didn’t need to hide it anymore. She looked over at her mother, then back at Alba. "Yeah," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I think I am."

Eli let out a soft sigh, her smile widening as she nudged Alba playfully. "You’re looking at her like she’s grown a second head. Relax, Alba. Your sister’s allowed to have a life outside of football."

Alba blinked, clearly still processing, but she finally shrugged. "Okay, fine. But you have to promise me something, Ale."

Alexia raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You better introduce us to her when she comes to visit," Alba said with a grin. "I want to know everything. You can’t just drop this bomb on me and leave me hanging!"

Alexia laughed, the tension in her body easing. "I promise," she said, her voice softening. "You’ll meet her soon. And you can ask all the questions you want, okay?"

Alba gave a satisfied nod. “Good. But seriously, Ale, I’m kind of in shock right now. My big sister is dating someone from downhill cycling? What even is that sport? How did you end up with someone so... different?"

Alexia let out a small laugh, trying to shake off the teasing but feeling a little flustered. "It’s just a sport, Alba," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's actually pretty intense. You'd be surprised."

Alba raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Intense? You mean, like, you just race down a mountain on a bike at insane speeds and call that 'intense'?" She let out a dramatic sigh. "Sounds like something out of a movie. Are you sure you're not falling for someone who’s just trying to get themselves killed?"

Eli shot a look at Alba, a quiet warning in her gaze, but Alexia couldn’t help but laugh again. "I wouldn’t put it that way, but… yeah, it’s a bit crazy. But there’s more to it than just the danger. It’s about skill, control, knowing yourself, your limits. It’s a lot like football, in a way," Alexia explained, though she wasn't sure if her sister really understood.

Alba crossed her arms, still skeptical but clearly intrigued. "I guess. But what’s she like, Ale? Like, really like? You’ve got me curious now."

Alexia hesitated for a moment, her thoughts wandering back to you. She was still processing everything that had happened since they'd met—how you’d slipped under her guard so easily, how your laugh made her stomach flip. "She’s different," Alexia said finally, her voice softer now. "I can’t even really explain it. She’s real. And there’s something about her that’s… refreshing."

Alba looked at her older sister, clearly seeing how this conversation was affecting her. "Uh huh," she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "I bet she’s got you all twisted up in knots."

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Maybe."

Meanwhile, as the race continued on the screen, Alexia’s attention was mostly on you. You were approaching the final stretch, and every twist, every jump, every corner, had her on the edge of her seat. Her heart pounded harder as you got closer to the finish line.

She glanced over at her mother and Alba, who were sitting on either side of her, both of them oblivious to the quiet storm of nerves swirling inside her. Alba had a knowing look on her face, but she didn’t say anything more. Instead, she turned her focus back to the race, watching the way you maneuvered through the last few hurdles of the course.

Suddenly, Alba leaned forward, eyes widening. "Wait a minute… that’s her, isn’t it?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

Alexia’s breath caught in her throat as she watched you in action. It was one thing to hear about the race, another to see you in your element, your confidence and determination shining through every turn.

The way you held your line, how you pushed through the hardest parts without hesitation, made something in Alexia’s chest tighten. She could almost hear your voice in her head, that same soft but firm tone you had when you said you’d be okay. But now, watching you race, she realized just how much she cared, how much she hoped you would cross that finish line without injury, without trouble.

As you made the final push and crossed the finish line with the fastest time, Alexia let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. It was more than just relief—it was pride. You’d done it. And something deep inside her shifted.

Alba, still watching intently, leaned back with a grin. "Well, looks like Ale’s in love," she said, her voice teasing but light.

Alexia, still holding her breath from the race, turned to her sister. "What?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Alba’s eyes gleamed. "Come on, Ale. I’m not blind. You’ve got that lovesick look in your eyes. I can tell. That’s her, isn’t it?"

Alexia's face went bright red, and she turned away quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. "I’m not... I don’t know," she mumbled, her words tripping over themselves.

But Alba was persistent. "You definitely know. Don’t even try to deny it." She glanced at their mom, who was watching with amusement.

"Mom, tell her. She’s totally into her."

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

End of chapter 6.

[millysastroblog]

Random Astro Theory’s

🔭I have a theory that Saturn's influence on relationships doesn’t necessarily mean someone will marry later; in fact, it could indicate the opposite. In the charts of some people I know, I’ve observed that when Saturn is in Cancer aspecting Venus or in the 7th house, there tends to be a strong focus on long-term, serious relationships that can lead to marriage. These individuals prioritize stable, equal partnerships, and while they might be late bloomers, once the time is right, they are committed for real. This could also apply to someone with a Venus-Jupiter aspect in Cancer or Cancer in the 7th house, who might even experience family-arranged marriages or similar situations."

🔭Plutonic Synastry/Composite isn’t about love in the way we typically think of it—it’s about transformation through intensity. It's like entering a vortex that forces you to confront the deepest parts of yourself. This connection is a catalyst for deep inner work. You get caught in this whirlwind, feeling that intoxicating rush of what seems like love, but it’s really more of a temporary trap that pushes you to face everything you’ve been avoiding. It’s like a snake that slides unnoticed through your at first, suddenly strikes with a sharp, unexpected bite. The sting feels like betrayal—like you’ve been deceived or hurt, and the trust you once had is shattered. But that venom coursing through your veins? Its something that you needed, even if it feels like it’s killing you in the moment. The poison is your awakening, forcing you to face your deepest fears and wounds.The process is messy and painful. It’s like being in a pressure-cooked cocoon, where the heat of it all brings everything to the surface. All the things you didn’t want to deal with fear, trauma, insecurities come pouring out. But once it’s all released, you are left with a new self, one that’s been purged, cleansed, and rebuilt from the ashes. You come out stronger, more self-aware, and ready to take on the world, like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon. 🦋🦋🦋

🔭I feel like Gemini and Pisces are similar in the way they’re often disliked or called "flip-floppy" or "fake" due to how broad, diverse, and unrestricted their worlds are. For Gemini, ruled by the twins, they don’t just have one way of doing things; it’s always split into multiple opinions, perspectives, and options. Whether it’s the information they share, the people in their lives, or even their choices in food, clothes, or money, they will figure things out in different ways. It’s easy for them to get bored and restless if something doesn’t stimulate their mind or offer something new, which is why they can quickly drop things, change their minds, or shift their personalities. So, if a Gemini flips on you, it’s usually because they’re bored.

As for Pisces they often don’t know themselves fully they just know that their reality is more fantasy, where they can take different forms, shape-shift, and be whoever they want. Because of their vivid imagination and deep sensitivity, they easily adapt to their environment, people, or situations, but often only if it serves their so-called limerence or false reality. Once that illusion is cracked and no longer meets their expectations, they can easily disengage or withdraw."

🔭Venus conjunct Chiron is a placement that gives someone a pure heart and soul when it comes to relationships and connections. These individuals have a unique way of accepting, nurturing, and understanding others in a meaningful, deep way. They’ve been hurt and betrayed many times, often feeling inferior. Most of the time, they've gone through a difficult, painful phase in life, only to suddenly transform into something beautiful, like a swan emerging from the struggle. They are often misunderstood and incredibly adorable, yet carry an air of quiet strength. People with this placement tend to crave love but often feel unworthy of it, which can lead them to attract unbalanced or unequal relationships. Despite the hardship and challenges they face, they possess an incredible capacity for forgiveness and empathy for others. There's a special allure or charm they exude that effortlessly draws people in. Over time, their biggest lesson will be to learn to value themselves first, to feel whole without relying on external validation whether that’s money, beauty, or luxury so that they can attract the right kind of people into their lives. In doing so, they also teach others how to do the same.

🔭Chiron doesn’t necessarily mean that you will suffer in one specific area of life forever. Since Chiron orbits between Saturn and Uranus, it takes on qualities from both planets. Saturn is about longevity, hard work, and the lessons we learn through persistence. As such, Chiron's energy can be challenging, especially in the beginning. It brings harsh and painful lessons that are meant to help us grow as individuals. However, the pain and suffering tend to lessen over time as we gain wisdom, knowledge, and maturity traits associated with Saturn. If someone doesn’t reach a certain level of enlightenment or growth, the cycle can repeat in the same, difficult way, as Saturn teaches us that growth comes through effort and time. But just like in the example above, there’s the potential for a breakthrough with every Chiron placement. These breakthroughs can be sudden and drastic, unlocking an evolution in our consciousness and allowing us to integrate healing in this life.

🔭The Midheaven (MC) shows how people perceive you when they first meet you, not how they view you over time. The 10th house, which contains the MC, is the highest point in the birth chart. Initially, people will see the energy of your MC placement, but as they get to know you better, they can start to appreciate the traits of your 1st house, Ascendant, or Sun sign.

Example: I have Capricorn on my 10th house/MC, conjunct Mars, opposite Saturn.

The Comments: "You look mean, you have resting bitch face, you seem so closed off, I didn’t know you could be nice." These are some of the first impressions I hear when people describe how they first saw me. I also get a lot of comments about my body and face being beautiful, but despite that, people don’t tend to like me right away. And honestly, I kind of get why.

🔭The negative expression of Neptune can be described in just few words in correlation to the planets :

Absence , disillusionment, deception of…

Sun: your Dad

Moon: your Mum

Venus: your Man/Woman

Mercury: your Perception

Mars: your Power and Will

Jupiter: your Beliefs

Saturn: your Limitation

Uranus: your Freedom

Pluto: your Control and Obsession

ASC: one Self

MC: your Public image

~•Milliy•~

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[slvtforfiction]

Stalker!Ghost (part 2)

☆ Stalker!Ghost X Reader

☆ Fluff

☆ TW stalking obvs

☆ New account layout,will try change old layout as much as possible,requests are open

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Divider creds @cafekitsune :)

Masterlist | Pinned Post | Part 1

☆ After a while Ghost seemed to be a bigger part of your life than you realised,a bigger comfort than knowingly willing.

☆ You seemed to find yourself excited to see when he would reply to your notes next,hiding off in your bedroom sometimes intentionally so that he would come into your house and reply.

☆ You had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to hurt you he would’ve by now. He had told you descriptions of how you looked at work,how the guy that yelled at you was ‘dealt with’ he knew everything about your life and seemed to protect you yet you had no idea why so whilst writing your next note you included the question.

☆ Hey Ghost, how come you chose me? Like why are you helping me? I would say you barely know me but you seem to know me more than I know myself haha.

Love,Y/n.

☆ You quickly scribbled out the ending,reminding yourself for a moment that this man was stalking you quite literally.

☆ The idea scared you but you supposed he was closer to a guardian angel rather than anything.

☆ After a few hours of listening to music in your room you slipped downstairs to grab yourself a drink,almost forgetting about the note you left until you saw it replaced with a familiar sticky note.

☆ Because you’re a beautiful woman,truly. I see what you do for other people even when others don’t. A beautiful person. I saw you scribble out the ending,don’t be afraid of me dove.

Love,Ghost.

☆ You stared at the note for a moment before writing out yet another note.

☆ Thank you haha,when can I know what you look like though? Can I not even get your phone number or something so you don’t have to break into my house every time I wanna talk to you?

☆ You wrote out the note before grabbing your original drink and heading back upstairs,hoping for a reply soon.

☆ In some sick way you had grown unscathed by the man that entered your house while you weren’t home,the man who entered your house while you actually were home,sitting upstairs oblivious to the rest of the home.

☆ In your mind you continued to remind yourself that he’s your stalker and he’s dangerous but there’s a part of you that just doesn’t believe that voice in your head telling you to run.

☆ You fall asleep soon after writing that note though awake a few hours later to see a pile of your underwear,carefully folded and cleaned and you smile realising that Ghost has been in yet come to the horrific discovery that that man had seen you sleeping.

☆ If he was going to hurt you he would’ve done it by now. You remind yourself before walking downstairs to read his note again.

☆ You ain’t gonna see what I look like any time soon lovie,hope you enjoy your washing.

You can message me on this number.

1567-####-####

Love,Ghost.

☆ You smiled now that you had finally gotten even a little bit of information about him and you quickly ran upstairs as you grabbed your phone typing in the number and sending it a message.

☆ Ghost?

☆ You smile as the phone quickly lights up after your message was sent.

☆ Hey lovie.

Hey guys if you like this post you should follow my Wattpad to get a notification when I post my ghost fic! It’s Christmas themed,slow burn and I know you’ll all definitely love it - Char 💞

Wattpad

out nov 25th 00:00 gmt*

[venomwrites]

The second time CaitVi makes love

Warning: Spoilers for everything.

She stops responding to Vi. 

Every time she hears the name the voice fades into her sister screaming. One of the fancy doctors who come to examine her call it a trauma response. He says things like time and tries to hand her a bottle of white pills which she checks into the fireplace. It floods the room with acidic smoke that sets off one of the fancy alarms hidden everywhere. She can’t believe they were going to make her swallow those. 

Pilties can be so fucking weird. 

Everyone around her calls her Violet seamlessly. Thankfully they drop the ‘Miss’ just as quickly as the ‘Vi’. She’s not sure who she is anymore but ‘Miss Violet’ sounds like a cartoon character. Like one of the fancy ladies that come by in the first few days with armfuls of flowers and wish Caitlyn—and only Caitlyn—a speedy recovery. She hears one of them talk about how brave she is to have fought so many monsters. 

She doesn’t listen after that. 

When you stop using a muscle it atrophies. She blows out some part of her throat on that ledge. The less fancy doctors who triage her say she shouldn’t try to talk. She doesn’t. She has nothing to say. She knows if she opens her mouth she’s going to tell them—no beg them—to take her back to the ledge. To let her go the same way they went. Her entire life has been about getting back her family. She came so fucking close. All she had to do was fall with them and she couldn’t even manage that. 

“Good morning, Violet.” 

Caitlyn’s voice is soft when it pulls her. Everything, every fucking thing she’s willing to do, Caitlyn gets done. It makes her head spin. Care has always been a matter of money and resources. Usually when there are none. But Caitlyn doesn’t care. She would think it was because of money, but then she remembers this is the same woman who traded her one weapon for a potion to save her life. The money helps but she’s pretty sure this is just Caitlyn. 

Caitlyn’s a shadow in her peripheral for a long time. She’s so patient, so anticipatory, she can see why she’s a sniper. Caitlyn brings doctors to the house to examine whatever part of her she’ll allow. None of them push her to do anything. If they aren’t there one day, they are back the next and the day after. Until she pulls her shit together enough to let them poke at her shoulder or press a ball into her mangled fingers to build strength. 

She doesn’t know what that strength is for. 

She doesn’t know what’s changed today. But when Caitlyn greets her in the morning she manages to look up. Surprise makes Caitlyn’s eyes go wide. Or the eye she can see anyway. The corners her lips curl up but one looks normal. The other doesn’t go up as far. Before she can stop herself she’s on her feet. Caitlyn’s smile falls as she quickly steps forward as though to help and then stops herself. When she thinks about it, she can’t remember the last time anyone who wasn’t a doctor touched her. 

“You’re hurt,” she blurts out. 

Caitlyn’s stares at her in shock. Tears flood the eye she can see. Quickly Caitlyn turns around and mumbles something to herself. Some instruction she’s been given by one of the fancy doctors. They hover around here enough, though she never bothers with what they do when she ignores them long enough to get them to leave. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, plastering on a fake ass smile, “but I’m better now.”

“Liar,” she says and it really does fucking hurt to talk, “your eye.” 

“Gone,” Caitlyn says simply. Like she didn’t loose a fucking eye. How long did that take? It occurs to her that she has no idea what day it is. How long has it been since they fell? “I’m fine,” she says, “really. Would you like some tea?” 

When she first dragged Caitlyn home and tea was produced, she had no idea it was the solution to everything to the Kirammans. It appears after every doctors appointment, every nightmare. She can barely go to the bathroom without someone shoving a cup under her nose. 

She likes the dark ones the best. Even though sometimes they make her feel like crying. They smell like a fancier version of what Vander would drink on late nights. Fancier and stronger. Strong enough to make her shove her nose in the cup and inhale. Maybe if she breathes in hard enough she can will him back. 

The cup Caitlyn shoves at her isn’t that. It’s sharper and green. Caitlyn stares at her so she takes a sip. It’s familiar but she can’t place how. Caitlyn must have given it to her before. There’s something sweet in it that feels so good on her throat. She could care less about the taste when it seems to coat her throat like that. 

“Thanks,” she tries out and the word sounds something like her. Caitlyn inclines her head and lets out a shaky breath, “how long?”

“Four months,” Caitlyn says. 

It’s been four months. She went seven years without seeing her sister. Seven fucking years. But she had hope. There was a chance. It’s been four months and she will never see her again. Her stomach churns at the thought. Caitlyn is immediately there, one hand reaching for the fancy ottoman in front of her. Like she has no idea where it is even though this is her fucking house. 

“Was there—a memorial?” She asks. Did she miss it? 

“A public one,” Caitlyn says, “for the fallen. We thought we could do something for them when you’re ready.” 

Of course they weren’t included. Jinx helped but they didn’t save the world. And that thing that used to be Vander didn’t save anyone. But Jinx saved her. She sacrificed herself so she could live. She knows that counts for nothing compared to all the heroes out there, but the unfairness of it makes her chest twist. Caitlyn’s hand hovers for a moment before it settles on her shoulder. 

“Ekko took what he could find back,” Caitlyn continues, “he said to let him know when you were ready.” 

She’s never going to be ready. 

They are already on the wall. She is too. All five of them clustered together like it should be. But now they are gone and she is sitting here still breathing. Unable to even die right. She thought she was used to loneliness. She thought she even knew what it was to be hopeless. All of those were just light versions of the yawning hole in her chest. The only grounding thing is Caitlyn’s hand on her shoulder. 

Caitlyn is still here. 

She reaches out and Caitlyn immediately covers her hand, bringing it to her cheek. Caitlyn’s skin is smooth and warm and wet. Caintlyn’s been crying. She forces herself to take in the shadow under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheek. Caitlyn’s been worried and not taking care of herself. She wonders if it’s been worry about her. Given how relieved she looks, she thinks it might have been. 

“Sorry,” she says.

“Don’t apologize,” Caitlyn says, “for anything. Violet I’m so sorry.”

The words burn but she’s not a coward. Not in this moment. She cups the back of Caitlyn’s neck. Caitlyn leans forward and she tries to be gentle when she rests her forehead against hers. Caitlyn leans into the touch and lets out a shuddering breath. 

She was going to roll. Sister’s sacrifice be damned. She was. 

But Caitlyn. 

Caitlyn. 

“I couldn’t—“ she forces out.

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “Vi—“

The name slips out and burns across her skin. But it’s not her sister screaming it. It’s Caitlyn. Screaming and begging her to take her hand. To come back to her. To please, please come back. It would be so easy to roll over and fall. But she’s never done anything easy. So she lurches to her feet and staggers towards the sound of Caitlyn screaming. Their hands lock and Caitlyn pulls her back with a pained yell, right before the metal gives. 

Now she’s in Caitlyn’s arms and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to reconcile that with wanting so badly to fall. 

“It hurts,” she forces out and Caitlyn makes a pained sound.

“I know,” she says. She does, “I know. It won’t always feel like this.” 

Caitlyn’s fingers dig into the base of her neck. When she matches Caitlyn’s next exhale, she realizes how tight they are. It’s several breaths before she can relax them at all. Four months. Four months and a lifetime more. She tells herself it’s another impossibly big goon. All she has to do is set her jaw and drive through. But driving through has always been for a purpose. If she’s strong enough, hits hard enough, she can get back to her family. 

But Caitlyn holds her there. 

And she lets her. 

She talks more, though not a lot. Most days she meets Caitlyn for all the meals. Some days they exist on tea and flat gold biscuits. One day the biscuits have chocolate on them. It’s creamier than any chocolate Vi has every tasted. She eats because if she doesn’t, they will get her nutrients through bags and tubes. But the chocolate explodes on her tongue and she reaches for another without thinking. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Cupcake,” she says at Catilyn’s surprised face. 

“I have not!” Caitlyn objects, “I didn’t know you liked them.” 

It’s the most normal she’s felt in months. She can’t say she belongs here, but it feels damn close with Caitlyn looking indignant over her manners. The thought of doing something just to make her blush more crosses her mind. And for a moment, everything seems alright. Her mind doesn’t drag to the ledge immediately. To her sister staring up at her as she knocks out the gem. As she falls. 

Caitlyn’s thumb against her lip rips her attention back to the present. 

Their contact has been more frequent. To the point where stretches without brushing against Caitlyn’s hands or shoulders make her fingers twitch. But there’s been no contact like this. It catches her off guard and it seems to do the same with Caitlyn. Her eyes widen in surprise but when Caitlyn goes to pull he hand back, she catches her wrist and holds her hand there. Caitlyn doesn’t pull back.

She brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s hand. 

Caitlyn lets out a shuddering breath that stirs something in her. She tastes the chocolate from her lip that decorates Caitlyn’s thumb. Caitlyn’s fingers curl against her cheek, blunt nails against her skin. She remembers them digging into her back, clutching at her hair, clutching at her hand and screaming not to let go. To stay, stay with her. The screaming echoing in her ears makes her try to turn away but Caitlyn is suddenly on the same chair, her other hand on her cheek. 

“I keep hearing them,” she confesses, “I keep hearing you,” Caitlyn’s thumbs brush over her cheekbones, “I keep choosing--“ she forces her eyes open to look at Caitlyn, “it’s always you.” 

She doesn’t understand. All she ever wanted fell down that shaft. And every time, every time she thinks of Caitlyn. Thinks of all the blue haired soldiers she pulled off the field who made her heart seize. The ones who weren’t her but could have been. She thinks of how it would feel for Caitlyn to find her body at the bottom of the shaft. She thinks of the scream that always catches in her throat when Powder says she’s gone. She fell down a well. 

So she lets the scream out and stays on the ledge. 

“I don’t want to fall.”

“I won’t let you,” Caitlyn swears, her fingers sliding around her ears, cupping the back of her skull, “I won’t,” she says in the voice that moves mountains, “stay with me.” 

She nods against Caitlyn’s forehead. She is trying. Gods is she trying. Caitlyn is asking her to fight. Her partner is asking her to fight. Her will feels as atrophied as her muscles but she shoves at it with everything she can. She focuses on Caitlyn. Not the screaming one who pulls  her back. The one in front of her who has their foreheads pressed together so tightly she can feel the strap of her eyepatch digging into her skin. Who has given her the one thing she’s never had. A soft landing. 

She tastes tears on Caitlyn’s lips when she crushes their mouths together. Caitlyn gasps around her lips and she pulls the same breath into her lungs. It feels like the first breath she’s taken since the ledge. Maybe since the last time she kissed her. Caitlyn tries to follow but it’s only a moment before her lips turn greedy against hers. Something in her sings at Caitlyn doing something for herself after months. 

“Here,” she mutters into her skin. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn breathes. 

Her fingers hesitate at the patch straps. Caitlyn presses her fingers to it in silent permission, her other eye still closed. She guides it off carefully. There’s no eye left. Gold lines fan out around the skin. She brushes a finger against them and Caitlyn’s breath catches, her hips jerking. Silco’s mismatched eyes flutter though the back of her mind and she shoves the thought away. Instead she brushes her lips against the gold on Caitlyn’s skin.

“Vi,” Caitlyn moans her nickname into her ear and the thaw in her chest burns hotter. 

“Again,” she whispers against Caitlyn’s neck, half plea half demand. 

“Vi,” she repeats, “Vi, please.”

It feels like coming home. When Caitlyn’s under her like this, everything ceases to exist. Her world narrows until the only thing in it is the woman in front of her. Or underneath her. Nothing else matters. Only Caitlyn. It caries like a current. Like a promise. Everything has changed so much. She has changed. But that feeling still lives in her chest. Buried, frozen, but it is there. Caitlyn drags it to the surface with every sweep of her fingers and gasp of her name. She doesn’t know what this is, if this is love. If this has a name. 

She just knows right now it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

Later she inspects the new marks that litter Caitlyn’s body. The narrow line on her gut is the one that stands out. The others are mostly surgical but this one, this one is from a lethal shot. Someone wanted her to die slowly and painfully. Caitlyn has her own ledge. They all do. Caitlyn meets her questioning look as she thumbs the scar. 

“This before or after the eye?”

“Before,” Caitlyn says, “the eye was a—a calculated move.”

“It’s your fucking eye,” she points out. There’s a note of pride in Caitlyn’s voice. The kind of pride that comes with winning a battle, “that’s pretty badass, Cupcake,” she says. 

“I have a prosthetic,” Caitlyn says. She is still focusing on the gut wound, “if this makes you uncomfortable—“

“Why would it do that?” Caitlyn shrugs, “who said it makes them uncomfortable,” she asks, looking around as though the offending party might be in the room with them. 

“No-one,” Caitlyn assures her, pushing her fingers through her hair, “but you—“

“I don’t care,” she says. Caitlyn tilts her head, “I don’t fucking care,” she repeats, emphasizing the words like she did in the cell. She touches the gold lines, “what about these?”

“I needed to find you,” Caitlyn says. Like that makes sense. She blows out a breath and pushes herself up to her elbow, “I had Mel stop the bleeding.” 

When Caitlyn parts her eyelid the socket is laced with gold. She vaguely remembers the gold dressed counselor. Now with a lot more gold on her. She was there on the ledge. There during the fight. Gold light spills from her hands into a thousand different shapes. Caitlyn had her put that light in her eye. All so she could get to her. Caitlyn’s gives her a puzzled look. It’s been so long since she smiled but she feels her lips tug. 

“So you went from one tiny leg scar to getting your wounds magically cauterized to find me?” She says. 

Even though she’s naked under her, now Caitlyn goes cherry red. 

“Oh—“ Caitlyn starts. 

“That’s hot, Cupcake,” she cuts in. 

Caitlyn looks up at her and the burning thaw is back. It’s hot and it’s humbling. She’s spent her whole life chasing. Begging. Desperate for the ghosts to stay so things can go back to when they made sense. But everything keeps falling away. Except, except Caitlyn. Caitlyn shoves gold in her wounds and charges up stairs when she shouldn’t be walking. She’s seen Caitlyn climb. She sucked at it when she had two eyes. Several times she stopped and went pale at the manageable height. But none of that stopped her. She didn’t even know she was alive and Caitlyn did all of that on the chance she might be. 

“I think I was waiting for you,” she tries. Caitlyn drags her fingers through her hair. It feels nice, “no I was, I kept thinking of you finding me.”

“Thank you for waiting,” Caitlyn says. 

She thinks of the months it’s been. Of Caitlyn’s endless patience. Pulling her back time and time again. She thinks of the cell and Caitlyn’s smile. Not all the guards were needed back then but Caitlyn sent them away. For her. She’s always been the one to fight. It’s who she is. But for the first time it feels like she hasn’t been fighting alone. Like if her strength fails, the entire world isn’t going to fall away. 

For the first time, there’s someone to pick up the slack in the way she needs. 

“Can you get a message Ekko later?” She asks. Caitlyn’s fingers pause.

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “it’s alright if you’re not ready.“

“I’m never going to be ready,” she admits, “but I need to,” she looks up at Caitlyn’s eye, “will you come with me?”

She knows it’s an ask. Despite the fragile whatever between them, Caitlyn spent so much time hunting her. But Jinx’s words echo in her ears. Be happy. Don’t worry about me. Even with everything her mind she saw that clearly. Salt stings her eyes. Even as she turns into Caitlyn’s skin and tries to ground herself, the gentle words echo in her head. 

Caitlyn’s warm pulls away momentarily. Only Caitlyn’s hand on her head keeps her from protesting. Then Caitlyn is behind her, folding herself around her. She’s safe and warm and home. Caitlyn slots their bodies together until there’s no space between them, even as she curls up. Caitlyn follows and bands her arms around her. 

“Of course I’ll be with you,” she swears, “stay here with me, Vi.”

So she folds her arms over Caitlyns and laces their fingers together.

And again she chooses to stay. 

[stormyelliotwritez]

HAIIIIII can i request something heheheh if yes TYSMMMM and my request isss deadpool and wolverine x chubby feminine male reader and male reader is like insecure about his body and femininity and wade and logan makes sure to let him know that hes beautiful inside and out hehe i havent really seen much x chubby male reader lately nor at all and i have been feeling down about my weight(again) and i would reallllyyyyy appreciate if u can do this request hhee but if u dont thats fine aswell TYSMMMM ONCE AGAINNNNN AND TAKE CAREEEE💖💖💖💖💖

YEAH I CAN!!!! im assuming you want cis male reader but if you were looking for trans, i can rewrite stuff!

sorry it took so long! depression has been kicking my ass recently

warnings for bullying, body dysmorphia, mean self talk and thoughts revolving around hating how you look, use of feminine pet names for reader

You’re their princess!

poolverine x chubby feminine male reader

You’d been curled up in bed since that morning when you’d swear that those teenagers were laughing about you. You’d been wearing a cute pink hello kitty shirt and the skirt Wade had got you. You’d told him over and over again that it was too short but he’d insisted that you were as cute as a button. Logan had said so too so you wore it but then those teenagers…

Logan and Wade hadn’t gotten home yet so you just laid in bed, covered to your neck. You didn’t wanna look at yourself. You’d thrown the skirt and shirt onto the floor and changed into Logan’s hoodie that was way too big for you. It covered everything and that was your only comfort. You just felt so insecure right now.

You must have drifted off because you jolted awake when the front door slammed. Your boyfriend’s voices drifted up into your ears and you burrowed deeper into the blankets. You didn’t want them to see you like this. You rolled over to face the wall and pretended to be asleep.

Wade poked his head into you guys bedroom and watched you for a moment before beckoning Logan over. You heard his footsteps and wanted to turn back over but your make up was messy and you didn’t wanna look at yourself in the mirror.

“He’s so cute, ain’t he, Logie? I just wanna kiss our baby all over his beautiful body,” Wade said with a sweet smile as he locked his hand in Logans.

Logan grunted a yes and nodded as he leaned against the doorframe. “He asleep?” He grunted.

You tried to stay still and quiet. You just wanted to stay in bed without them trying to make you feel better.

Wade chuckled and let go of Logan’s hand. He walked over to the bed and poked you in the shoulder. You jumped and squealed into your pillow.

“Awwwww, baby’s awake!” He said with a giggle before crawling onto the bed and pulling you into his lap with great difficulty coz you didn’t wanna move.

He nudged your face so he could see you and his face dropped when he did. “Baby, why’s your makeup like that?”

Logan had been watching from the doorframe but when Wade said that, he quickly closed the gap between him and the bed. He climbed on the bed and when he saw your tear streaked face, there was murder in his eyes. “Who hurt you, doll?”

You flinched away from him when he said that.

“Don’t call me that. It’s stupid. I can’t look like a girl! I’m too chubby and it doesn’t look right and I should just bite the bullet and dress like a guy,” you rambled, faster than Wade, as you tried to turn away again.

Wade and Logan immediately jumped into gotta fix this mode. Before you even knew what was going on, Wade had pulled the blanket off you and Logan had taken you off him and settled you on his lap. Wade hopped off the bed and picked up your clothes and put them in the washing basket. He grabbed one of your cute pink hoodies and those hello kitty pj pants you liked so much and laid them out on the end of the bed.

“They’re for when we get ya feeling better. Can’t have you drowning in Logan’s hoodie,” he said with a sad smile as he sat back down.

Logan stroked your hair and grabbed a make up wipe off the bedside table. He gently wiped away your makeup and murmured sweet nothings into your ear. The ickyness started to subside but you still felt it. It was still there in your stomach and the back of your mind, waiting for them to leave so you could cry some more.

“We ain’t gonna make you hash it out, sweetheart. You don’t gotta tell us a thing, okay? But can you let us say somethings?” Wade asked gently as he took ahold of your hands.

Everything in you wanted to say no. They were just taking pity on you. Why would anyone like you? You weren’t skinny and you were too girly. But slowly you nodded.

Wade smiled and tilted his head. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever set my eyes on, you know. When we first met, I just knew that I wanted you and when you spoke and your heart shone through, I knew it even more.”

That was a lot more sincere than you were expecting but you still felt icky. They’d leave soon. Tears started to well up in your eyes but before you could wipe them away, Logan did so.

“We love you, pretty boy. We’ll always love you. You’re the most feminine badass I know and you’re not too chubby. You’re just the right amount. You’re perfect cuddle size, sweetheart,” Logan said with the most gentle smile.

You were crying now. How’d they always accept you when it seemed nobody else did? Logan wiped away your tears and after getting a nod from you, Wade gently pulled Log’s hoodie off you. As he picked up your hoodie, Logan leaned down and pressed a kiss to your tummy.

“You’re the most beautiful princess out there, baby. You can be a man and still be pretty and you can be chubby. You’re not too chubby, okay? We’re gonna love you always,” Logan reminded you.

Wade helped you into the hoodie and then into the pants. Logan then helped you lay down and he cradled you against his chest. Wade snuggled up against you, his arms around your waist, tracing hearts on your tummy.

“We love you, baby,” Wade said with a giggle.

The three of you drifted off to sleep and that icky feeling left for a while longer.

[rispwr]

Number one girl ・❥・J.JK ( preview )

pairings : jungkook x afab! reader

genre : frienemies2??, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, enemies in public, bsfs in secret.

sypnosis : what's more confusing than math? your feelings for a man you don't like but you don't hate.

content : not sure yet. might even change the whole story

word count :

note : this is a short fic i don't even know if i wanna post it or nah. but here's a preview

It was 9 PM, And Jungkook had shown up at my door earlier, carrying my favorite food, with a grin on his face. now i was wrapped securely in his arms.

My legs were draped over his lap, and my head rested against his chest, As his hands moved lazily through my hair, his fingertips tracing soft patterns on my scalp. His voice, low, hummed a tune I didn't recognize but found comfort in.

"Kook?" I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

"Hmm?" His response was gentle, paired with the subtle vibration of his voice as he kept humming.

I lifted my head, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes softened as he looked down at me, his lips curving into a slight smile as his hand continued its soothing motion through my hair.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, my voice teasingly light. "...For dessert?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You want ice cream?" he guessed, amusement flickering in his tone.

I nodded quickly, the excitement bubbling up and escaping in the form of a wide grin. He chuckled softly at my enthusiasm. "Alright," he said with a soft laugh, his hand leaving my hair briefly to tap my nose.

"So, do you wanna let go of me so we can get some?" His voice was playful, his smile knowing.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning sarcasm. "Let me enjoy this moment, Jungkook," I replied dramatically. "When you're not being a moody girl on her period for once."

His laugh was warm, filling the space between us as he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me. "A moody girl, huh?" he teased, his lips brushing the top of my head as he spoke.

I groaned loudly, burying my face back into his chest. "Kookkkk!!" I squealed, my voice muffled by his hoodie.

That's when it started. His hands, once gentle and soft, suddenly moved to tickle my sides. My laughter erupted uncontrollably, as I wriggled in his grip, trying and failing to escape.

"Stop! Jungkook!" I cried between gasps of laughter, my hands slapping against his biceps in a weak attempt at resistance.

But he only laughed harder, his grip firm as he leaned over me, effectively pinning me beneath him. and soon I was sprawled out on the bed, breathless and flushed.

He paused then, hovering over me with a grin, his dark hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, everything stopped. His laughter faded. His gaze locked with mine.

It was the way his eyes softened as they roamed over my face, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

But then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone.

"Uh, okay," he blurted, his voice an octave higher than usual as he broke the silence. "Let's go?"

The sudden awkwardness was almost comical. He scrambled off me, sitting up on the bed and rubbing the back of his neck.

I stayed where I was, still lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned silence. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, and I pressed a hand against it as if that would calm the storm raging inside me.

Jungkook stood then, adjusting his hoodie as he avoided my gaze. "So... you wanna get up and wear a bra so we can go out, hun?"

The teasing lilt in his voice snapped me out of my daze.

"Jeon Jungkook!" I gasped, sitting up and grabbing the nearest pillow. I hurled it at him with all the strength I could muster, but he dodged it effortlessly, his laughter filling the room once again.

"Shut up!" I yelled, my face heating as I scrambled to sit properly on the bed.

his laughter echoing down the hallway as he left the room.

Once he was gone, the silence returned, and I was left alone with my thoughts. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, pressing against the spot where my heart still raced.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away as I climbed out of bed, grabbing a hoodie to throw over my shirt. The last thing I needed was to overthink this.

Jungkook was just... Jungkook.

Right?

I sighed, making my way out of the room to find him. He was waiting for me at the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, that signature grin plastered across his face.

"Ready?" he asked, his tone light and teasing as always.

I nodded, slipping into my shoes as he held the door open for me.

we climbed into his car. The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence as he pulled out of the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel with casual ease.

"You're not gonna make me pick the playlist, are you?" I asked, settling into my seat and glancing at him.

"Nah, I've got us covered," he said, already queuing up a playlist on his phone. Moments later, our favorite song filled the car, and he started tapping the steering wheel to the beat.

Kiss me Kiss me with your eyes closed Whisper that your heart shows

I couldn't help but laugh as he began singing. well, shouting? the lyrics dramatically.

Hold me, I'm your bunny 

Tell me I'm not funny 

"Are you auditioning for something, Jungkook?" I teased, watching as he turned to give me an exaggerated wink before returning his focus to the road.

"Maybe. Think I've got a chance?" he asked, his tone light but his grin mischievous.

"Only if they're looking for someone to scare the judges away," I quipped.

He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Wow. Betrayed by my own princess passenger."

We ordered our ice cream quickly, opting to eat in the car rather than sitting outside in the chilly night air.

The car was warm and cozy as we sat, our cones in hand. Jungkook took an exaggerated lick of his ice cream, his eyes narrowing at me like he was waiting for me to mess up somehow.

"What?" I asked, taking a cautious bite of my own.

"You've got..." He gestured vaguely to my face, his expression far too smug for my liking.

"Where?" I asked, swiping at my cheek.

"Nope, not there."

I frowned, trying again, but his grin only widened.

"Here, let me help," he said, leaning across the console. Before I could protest, he swiped his thumb across my cheek, his touch light and fleeting. Then, with a grin, he licked the ice cream off his thumb.

"Jungkook!" I gasped, shoving him lightly as heat rushed to my face.

"What? I was just helping!" he said, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

I tried to glare at him, but the laughter bubbling out of me betrayed my attempt. "You're impossible."

"And you're pretty," he shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes soft.

At some point, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, turning to look at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head with a small smile. "Just... i like the ice cream"

"Yeah," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "Me too."

The ride back was quieter. His hand rested casually on the gear shift, and every now and then, his fingers would brush against mine. Neither of us moved away.

As I made my way to the student council meeting, I caught sight of him. Jeon Jungkook.

He was leaning casually against the lockers, surrounded by his usual group of guys. His hair was a mess in that perfect, lazy way, and he had that smirk on his face. the one that made the girls around him giggle like he was some kind of god.

I kept walking, my head held high, trying not to engage. We had an unspoken agreement, after all: no interaction in public. Jungkook made it crystal clear he didn't want to ruin his reputation by being seen talking to me. Not that I cared.

The less drama in my life, the better.

Still, I couldn't help but hate the way he gave me mixed signals when we were alone, only to act like a complete stranger in public.

"You good, Y/N?" one of the student council members, Hana, asked as she passed by me.

I nodded quickly, adjusting my glasses as I brushed past her. "Yeah, just heading to the meeting."

"Cool, see you there!"

As she disappeared into the crowd, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw jungkook pop up on my screen.

Jakay: Yo nerd, wanna go out later?

I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

You: I have a meeting with the student council.

Jakay: Picking them over me, huh?

You: Wouldn't even pick you in a room full of your clones.

There was a pause before his reply came through.

Jakay: Ouch :(

Jakay: Can we at least just FT?

You: You tryna get in my pants or something?

Jakay: Want me to?

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, blinking at my screen. For someone who was usually all jokes, he had a way of toeing the line between playful and annoying.

You: Ew. I'm blocking you.

Jakay: LMFAOOO

Smirking to myself, I quickly blocked his number and tucked my phone back into my pocket.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

Jakay: Wait.

Jakay: You actually blocked me?!!

Not Delivered

Jakay: 💔💔

oc has this little thing where she blocks jk and unblock him. it's kind of like when she feels she's kinda falling for him so she blocks him to keep herself in the friendship line?

also idk but like i heard rose's new song "number one girl" and i wanted to write about it where oc is whipped for jk. i'm even thinking of changing the whole story because from what i wrote it looks like jk is more whipped for oc than she is. i liked the part where rose sang

"I'd do anything to make you want me I'd give it all up if you told me that I'd be The number one girl in your eyes" like omygoddd.

tell me if you guys want the full because im bored hihi

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Then it would only be second to death.....

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.

Masterlist

Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?

Warnings: Angst

“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”

Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”

“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”

“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”

“I'm working,” he grits.

“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.

But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?

He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.

But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.

So he says that.

“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.

The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.

“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”

“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”

Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.

“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.

There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.

Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.

“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”

Unbridgeable.

It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?

So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?

It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.

Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.

Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.

The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.

And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.

She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?

Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.

What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.

That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.

He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.

But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;

What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.

What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?

That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.

That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.

But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.

Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.

She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.

He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;

“That sounds nice, its new?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”

Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”

He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”

“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.

“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.

“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.

“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”

Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.

“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.

Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.

“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.

“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.

Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”

A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.

On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.

“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”

“Andy –”

“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”

“Andy –”

“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”

Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?

With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.

“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.

Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.

“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”

“But I don’t –”

“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”

Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?

“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.

A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.

Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.

“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.

The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”

“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.

Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.

Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.

“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.

Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”

When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.

“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”

Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;

No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.

When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.

******

Tagging: @tungledotfuck

[lalchimiedecupid]

For angsty lilia×agatha×rio inspiration? A slight alteration where Lilia didn't die at the trial, sooo consider this.

Rio has been there as long as there's been life. She was the one to see the first grass off with the first frost. She was there with the first ever person to die to taste the sweetness of poisonous berries she kissed at summer. She has been there through wars, survival, acts of sacrifice and selfless protection. Witches are short, bright-flamed sparks across the dark canvass of the night sky to her, a flame that burns so quickly she could barely notice.

Lilia has been there for over four centuries. She had been there during the most trying times, in the darkest of nights brightened by prayers and the pyres alike. She had been there before forests went thinner, before life became an endless loss of sisters and faith, before songs became blame and chants became curses. She had been there with her heart, dragging it forward in fear, and she saw the world change in ways so deep she could never find a fitting comparison, except: a candle being snuffed out in the lonely darkness. Agatha is a child next to her experience. Death? Her one true companion.

And Agatha has been there a little less. A shorter time, an even shorter experience. Blood so young and smoldering with emotions, it shines crimson. It shines warmth. Agatha, and her desires, her selfishness, her snark and laughter in the face of the most horrible. She is an old witch, yet still the youngest among all three. She is so, full, of life. They fall beautifully together. The darkness, the light, the flames of the time passage.

But – Agatha is the one to die first. Between Death herself and the witch who's had lifetime enough to fill the most demanding hourglass, Agatha's flame dies first, and they have to continue existing without its maddening, blinding light. In darkness. As they were before her.

sorry it got dark and kinda death-y but you asked and I couldn't stop word-vomiting haha

Sins of the Past Buried at the Old Creek:

I: The Fall

TW: Not specified yet, but the story will have more and more in each chapter as we discover the lives of Lilia, Agatha and Rio.

Lilia doesn't know how it happened. Why it happened. All she remembers was waking up in Agatha's embrace, cradled to her chest. The same woman who had walked out on her, walked out on Rio, walked out on everything they had built and vanished. The same woman she agreed to join on this walk down "The Witches Road". The same woman who has subconsciously comforted her after her hallucination. The same woman who had shared the story of the only scar she openly talks about while she hides the rest. The same woman who she watched yearn for Death but also run away from her. The same woman she sacrificed herself for. The same woman she now lays in her arms.

"Agatha?" She asked quietly as the brunette kept her close to her chest, where she once used to lay against, at night, or in the early hours of the morning.

"Shhh, you're okay" The younger witch said, voice hoarse and throat tight. An indication that, she either was screaming (which isn't a rare occurrence for her) or crying. Odd I know. Agatha kept to herself. Agatha refused to show signs of weakness. Agatha— Agatha loved dearly, and she hated it. She preferred to lust over the other, to let herself be driven by lust and desire, no matter how harsh and humiliating the punishment is in the second circle of hell.

After all, she was no stranger to punishment and heartbreak. In fact, she has grown to become it's own personification.

"I need a favor" Death whispered to the Sicilian witch

"A favor? From me?" A scoff. "Why? So you can wreck havoc all over again? So you may trick me into believing your claws won't dig deep into the corpses of those I try to nurse back to health?"

"Look—"

"Don't" Lilia hissed. "What do you want this time? Who is it?"

"Her name is Agatha, she's — she's with child. The pregnancy is dangerous and I— The child will be a stillborn, but I've offered her time"

A laugh. A cold bitter laugh.

"Time? You've offered her time? How come dear Mistress of Death?"

"Lilia—"

"Take a deep breath the baby lives!" The witch screamed, starling backwards with a hand to her womb, eyes wide and dissociated before slowly, they locked onto Death. "She's..That child is yours" Lilia breathed out.

"He is" Death answered ever softly. "And I— She needs someone, no one's as caring and gentle as you are"

"You want me? Your mistress to care for your child with the woman that doesn't you and I's history?"

"Please Melilla" Death doesn't beg, but sometimes in the late hours of the night, she finds herself on her knees begging for more than one thing at a time..

"I was falling" The older witch whispered as a hand so used to cause harm caressed her cheek tenderly.

"You no longer are" The words were murmured against her forehead, a small sniffle escaping Agatha.

"Soo...you two are—?" Jen asked confused with a tilt of her head.

"Don't" Agatha hissed, keeping Lilia close to her. "No no— don't sit up mea columba—" She said, keeping a tight hold onto Lilia, putting a stop to her attempt at sitting up.

"Agatha—" Lilia mumbled ever so quietly, the rasp in her voice causing waters to bubble up in the brunette's eyes.

That's when Billy knew that he needed to get Jen out of here. That and because Rio was standing in the corner with her dagger in hand, ready to chase them out.

"I'm not leaving" Jen insisted through gritted teeth as she tried to take a step forward, almost hesitantly but with pure determination. Because when Lilia looks at you with her sad eyes you can do nothing but agree to whatever comes out of her mouth.

Oh Lilia, the woman that you are.

"Jen we have to go—" Billy could only insist, grabbing the dark skinned woman by the arm and attempting to drag her away.

As soon as the doors closed in, that's what the realization settled for Agatha. Lilia was sacrificing herself. Lilia was finally giving into her suicidal thoughts. Lilia was giving up on her life for the greater good. No. No she can't let that happen.

"Billy" She could only gasp out as she grabbed the boy's face. "Listen to me" She insisted. "You want Lilia out" It sounded urgent, desperate almost.

"What —" The boy exclaimed.

"You want her out Billy! You want her out of there, you need Lilia OUT!" She said once again, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Agatha I—"

"Focus!" She yelled once again, her hands on either sides of his face, pulling it closer to her, attempting to channel her energy.

"Focus on the Lilia you saw inside. Focus on her footsteps" The way she was holding onto his head made him both scared and slightly interested in her desperation to bring Lilia, a member of their coven, who she mocked and supposedly could care less and less about.

But none the less, Billy did as he was told, but the flashes were intense, the screeches and the sounds of the wall slowly closing on the ground. But there she was in her pink dress, falling.

"She's falling!" He exclaimed.

"Then catch her! Get her back to me!" Agatha shouted, her thumbnail digging into his cheek.

"Ow—Ow— I can't! I can't pull her back!" The teen said, face scrunched up in pain.

"You CAN! You CAN and you WILL!" She screamed into his face, causing Jen's attention to face them. "You pull her OUT RIGHT THIS INSTANCE!" She was desperate. And that was maybe even an understatement. A deep understatement.

"Pull her in, pull her to me, in my arms. Focus on the atoms in the air, surrounding Lilia, before she crashes, before she dies. Before I—I lose her" Her eyes wide and wet, full of tears she allowed herself to shed.

Sensing her despair, he focused onto the falling figure, her soul, her body and her mind, and it might've been too late now as a the tip of the sword entered her back before darkness engulfed his mind.

"LILIA!" His mentor, his hyperfixation for years, his— his whatever she was screamed as she caught onto Lilia and pulled her close to her arms.

"I'm not leaving her with them! With Death and her psychotic ex girlfriend that's also a witch killer!" The potion's witch said fiercely.

"Well then stick around and find out what happens when you stay with Death and her ex girlfriends" The line was delivered as a threatening whisper, with the dagger in hand, her skeletal body on full display. With a tilt of her head and a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Rio, don't" Came Lilia's quiet whisper.

And who knows what it is that Lilia has for both Death and the infamous Agatha Harkness to do whatever she says. But they do. They always do. And her words always work on them. When it's tenderly delivered, when it's soft and gentle, when it's words spat out of rage and pain, out of pain and sufferance.

Lilia was a soothing balm to their wounds.

You might ask yourself what wounds does Death herself have? Well, a skeleton is cold without a layer of muscles and skin. It's weak and breakable. How can it survive for so long as nothing but 'une macabre vivante'? Lilia was more than a Persephone, no, Persephone was Agatha. Once innocent now rotten to the core. Maybe she wasn't Persephone either, because God knows no innocence resides in her soul any longer. But Agatha was Agatha. Agatha was chaos and heartbreak. Was a self destructive fool but also a power hungry beast. Agatha was unpredictable. Agatha was Grief. Sorrow. Heartbreak. Agatha was all the flaws one could possess and put into one.

Agatha was good. Until she wasn't.

Rio was Rio. Rio was Death. Rio was Balance. Rio was good and was bad. Rio was nature and animals. Rio was instincts and tendencies. Rio was a mix of hedonistic dionysian and and absurd cynical. Rio is Death. The gentle breeze that kisses your blue lips and the harsh impalement that snatches you from life's warm embrace. That's who Rio truly is. The cycle of things.

And Lilia, sweet, gentle, tender, beautiful Lilia. She was life. She was light. The sun and the pretty skies. She was a Sunflower in a field of rotten suns. A lightbringer in the darkest of nights. A caress of silk and cotton. A breath of fresh air and a the smell of spring. The smell of damp mud on rainy days. The smell of the beach on a hot summer night in mid july. She was and is what brought true balance to Death and Heartbreak. She is what soothes the grief and the pain. She is what brings life to loss. She is and will always be Life.

❛°•☽☼☾•°❜

tag list:

@yourbasicqueerie there you go cousin🙏🏻🙏🏻

[rom-e-o]

*holds Manfred hostage* Spill the tea on Belismerich's proposal, or the skeleboy gets an earful of the nastiest, funnest-to-say swear words. ... Metaphorically speaking.

NO, MANFRED! 😭 (Although that does sound like a good time…I’m tempted. Manfred has gotten good grades lately, maybe he can say ‘fuck’ one, as a little treat.)

OKAY BUT YES - Belismerich proposal! To be honest, I had not thought about what this would look like specifically, so this was a really fun ask to receive! I had to think about it. We know Emmy says before the final battle that there is so much he wants to “say” and “plan” with Rook after they survive. (He can still die horribly in a cinematic after this if you mess up enough with your battle assignments, which KILLS ME INSIDE, but not in this universe.)

If you romance Bellara, she confesses something along the lines of, “Rook, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I feel like I’ve know you forever” right before the end. So we don’t really know how long this adventure lasts. Maybe 6 months? Harding also teases Emmrich that “you and Rook are sort of moving quickly.” (Which is funny, his romance is the only one with multiple kisses and dates, whereas most of the other allies get … one/two kisses and bed scene rolled into one. So yeah, he’s amorous by comparison.)

So, after the final battle, I don’t think Emmrich jumps right into a proposal. Even with his lingering fear of death and insecurity about aging, I feel like his desire to give Rook a proper romance comes through, which is big for him. I do HC that, after they survive the final fight, they’re sitting together in a sickbay recovering, and Emmrich slips off one of his MANY rings and gives it to her.

(This gets long, so I’m inserting a “Read More”, haha.)

Belisma: Emmrich, what is…?

Emmrich: It’s…a promise to you.

Belisma: A promise? Emmrich, are you—

Emmrich: I-I know there is much we need to do. The cities needs to recover. The world needs to heal. The ancients are gone, and the everything has changed, my love. We need to rebuild, and mourn those we lost. But … through it all, no matter what we face, I want you to know my feelings were true. Are true. Our relationship was not a flight of fancy. I still long for you. For a future with you. If you’ll have me.

Belisma: Oh. I … Y-Yes. I’d very much love that.

I think Belisma worries Emmrich’s fancy for her might fade once she’s no longer the grand hero “Rook.” She goes back to being a normal, bookish Watcher with an affinity for ballet and jam sandwiches. Is their love the type that can shift from an environment of dangerous excitement to domestic bliss? Does he only love her because of her exciting, dashing hero persona and role?

With Belisma being a Watcher, I imagine it’s easy and natural for her to move into his lodgings in the Necropolis with Manfred. There is plenty of space, and it’s private. He takes an extended sabbatical, and works on making Rook feel at home. Their rooms were adjacent at the Lighthouse, but now? They’re sharing a bed. Rooms. A wardrobe.

Isma’s fears are quickly nullified as they spend more time quiet together. Walking the gardens, cooking together, reading together by the fire. They also walk the crypts hand-in-hand, and attend lectures/seminars together on necromancy. They tend to the funerary rites of all the people lost in that final battle, and as they prepare their bodies, they reminisce and pay very personal respects. They make sure Lace has a proper monument erected to honor her sacrifice. And they travel! They visit Treviso for the amazing markets, or Rivain to frolic the beaches properly. He always wanted to travel, and now he can. So, they still adventure a bit, but much more safely, haha. They also travel to provide aid across the country, especially to those needing assistance with burying/honoring their dead. It’s a sensitive process, and they are very, very tender.

They bond over teaching Manfred magic (there’s a few close calls with the flaming rocks.) She goes back to dancing ballet. He still privately tutors his most promising pupils, and grades assignments in is spare time.

It’s perfect. Then, six months in, he proposes.

The most obvious choice is the Memorial Gardens, but I imagine he also does it there because his parents are there. 🥹 And it’s private, and where they shared their first kiss.

They share wine and dinner, and end with a walk. Belisma expects nothing; they’ve done this make times before. Then, right at the end, he leads her off the path and to his parents graves. There, Manfred is standing with an overflowing bouquet, and a small box. But they aren’t offerings. He goes to them, takes them, and beckons her forward. She obeys, and he gifts her the flowers. Shroud’s Kiss, Blue Creepvine. Weeping Widower.

They walk eternity hand-in-hand, he reads. Their epitaph. “It’s always a sentiment that is touched me, even as a boy. Their affection so enduring that, even in death, they are intertwined. Bound by their mutual adoration. Their lives ended too soon, but they set a sterling example for what love could be. Should be. Warmth. Togetherness. I longed for that in my life. A-And with a loving soul to watch over or wait for, then join that new journey … even death itself seems more than bearable. With you.”

Soulmates, in every way.

Slightly breathless, he presents the ring, and sinks onto one knee while taking hers. “Flame of my heart, I ask … would you join me in that destiny? Will you marry me?”

He doesn’t trust himself to say much, because he’s so nervous. Here he is, on his knee before the woman he loves (and Manfred, lmao) laying his heart bare for her. The ring is gold with a smoky-quartz stone in the middle. It matches her hair and eyes.

Belisma buries her face in the bouquet, so happy she is without words, before nodding eagerly. Here she was, happy to be his love in all ways. But marriage? She’s almost 36 by now. She was content with being a quirky spinster/retired hero. Now, she’s wanted as a bride? As a wife. Her heart sings, and she wishes she could twirl.

“…My love, I need you to say it,” he says. “Please.” His heart can’t handle false hope.

“Yes,” she rushes to say, “I will … happily marry you, Emmrich Volkarin. Walk hand-in-hand with you for the rest of our mortal, and immortal, days. I want to share your life, your name, everything.”

The ring is slid onto her finger, and less than a second later, he rushes upward to crush her into a thankful, passionate kiss. “I’ll always love you,” he promises through pants. “Treasure you. Keep you company, and you’ll want for nothing, my dearest. I promise. Oh, I promise.”

Manfred turns away and shields his eyes with a squeal, then distracts himself with a rose bush (“Rose! Beautiful!”) Neither Belisma or Emmrich stop this, instead continuing to kiss and whisper loving please to each other between swipes of the tongue and sighs of delight.

Belisma also takes his name, which means a lot. After all, he’s the last Volkarin. And now, she has his name. She chose to be a part of his life, and his family. That, in addition to a long list of other things, leaves him besotted and hopelessly, undoubtedly, convinced he has found a soulmate in her.

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."  

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

[daisymbin]

angst prompt #21. "you don’t get to walk back into my life like this." with female reader and mingyu

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angst prompt #21: "you don't get to walk back into my life like this."

mingyu hadn’t expected to feel this much.

he’d thought he could handle it—seeing you again after all this time, just a chance encounter. but the moment he saw you, his heart had dropped, and all the walls he’d built around himself crumbled.

he hadn’t realized how much he missed you until now.

it had been months since he walked away from you, and the emptiness he tried so hard to fill never truly went away. he had convinced himself that leaving was the right thing to do, that you’d be better off without him, that you deserved someone who could give you more. but the truth was, he had been too scared to face his own feelings, and in the end, he left you behind.

but now, standing in front of your door, mingyu felt the weight of everything he had done.

he had to see you.

“hey,” mingyu said softly when you opened the door. your eyes went wide in recognition, and he felt a pang of guilt at the guarded look in them.

“mingyu?” you asked, the surprise quickly shifting into something harder, colder. “what are you doing here?”

he swallowed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feeling small under your gaze. “i just... i saw you earlier, and i couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about us.”

you raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly, but not enough to invite him in. “us? you’ve got a funny way of showing it. you didn’t seem to care about ‘us’ when you walked out without a word. remember that?”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“i know,” he whispered, his voice breaking as the weight of his regret crushed him. “i know i messed up. i didn’t mean to hurt you, but... i didn’t know how to fix it. i thought i was doing what was best for both of us, but i was wrong. i should’ve never left.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and almost mocking. “you think you can just come back and undo everything? you can’t just walk back into my life and act like nothing happened. you hurt me, mingyu. you hurt me more than you’ll ever understand.”

mingyu’s chest tightened as he watched the anger and pain in your eyes. the person standing before him wasn’t the one he remembered—the one he used to joke with, the one who smiled when he walked into the room. no, this was someone who had healed, someone who had moved on without him.

and it hurt.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head. “i can’t take back what i did, but i want you to know how sorry i am. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want to make things right between us.”

you shook your head, a sad smile curling on your lips. “you don’t get it, do you? i moved on, mingyu. i had to. i can’t just forget everything, and i can’t just let you back in because you finally decided you made a mistake. it’s too late for that.”

the words hit him harder than anything. too late.

“please,” he said, stepping forward, but you took a step back, closing the distance between you with an air of finality.

“no,” you said firmly, voice trembling but steady. “i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep hoping for something that’s never going to happen. i’ve moved on. i’ve let go.”

mingyu felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. he opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. what could he say? how could he fix this when everything he had done was unforgivable?

he couldn’t.

“you don’t get to just walk back into my life, mingyu,” you repeated, this time quieter, but no less painful. “i can’t keep waiting for someone who’s never coming back.”

mingyu’s throat tightened as he stood there, watching you—the person he once thought he’d spend forever with—walk away from him, slipping behind the door with a final click.

he stood there for what felt like forever, frozen in place.

he thought he could change. he thought he could fix what he had broken. but some things couldn’t be fixed. some mistakes were too big to come back from.

and as he stood outside your door, the reality settled in.

it was too late.