#it's been a very long day and her sister is dead

[little-diable]

Our suffering ends now - Tommy Shelby (smut)

It truly has been a while since I’ve last posted a Tommy fic, but I love how this came together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has mourned his death for the past years, all until her boss speaks of him, leaving (y/n) to wonder how she could have been betrayed like that, blindsided by lies. It’s time for her to return to the man she has believed to be dead.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, reunited lovers, some angst and crying

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

Trees blurred past the window she sat close to, hands holding onto the book she carried with herself. Her eyes burned from being awake for so long, having to change trains every few hours, set on making it to him before night would break. Hours ago her heart had raced in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was trying to flee from her. And she couldn’t blame it, knowing that what she was about to do would be uncomfortable, scarily so. 

This journey broke more promises than she could count with both of her cold hands, and yet she hadn’t been able to fight against the need to see him again – after all these years. She could still hear Ada’s and Polly’s voices speaking to her, forcing her to leave that one cruel night years ago. With tears rolling down her cheeks she had given in, watching the two women pack her bags before accompanying (y/n) to the train station. A foolish mistake she had been forced to live with. 

She was torn between hurt and anger, not understanding how the two women she had once loved like her own sisters could have betrayed her like that. For years she had lived with the knowledge that her lover was dead, that he hadn’t made it home after the war. Lies, nothing but lies she had been fed. 

If it hadn’t been for her job she would have kept believing the lies, not doubting what she had been told by the two. If it hadn’t been for the way her boss had spoken of him, she wouldn’t have stopped grieving the loss of the man she had once promised to love until her death. If it hadn’t been for the sinking feeling growing deep within her, she wouldn’t have purchased the train tickets that very night before calling the only man she had kept in touch with. 

Her legs ached as she rose to her feet, ready to step out of the train in hopes of spotting him. A deep breath was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) started moving, holding onto her suitcase while the cold evening air wrapped itself around her. 

“(Y/n)!” The smile widening on her lips only grew as her eyes spotted Alfie, rushing towards him to throw herself into his arms. He held onto her, hugging her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it had only been a handful of weeks. His comforting scent wrapped itself around (y/n), cozying her along as he slowly parted from her. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You fucker.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, earning a few shameful gazes from couples brushing past the two. But Alfie’s loud laugh distracted her enough to keep smiling at the man she had crossed paths with years ago, instantly learning to love him like a brother. 

“Come, come, let’s get some food into your system and then you can tell me all about why you have summoned me to Birmingham, yeah?”

…

“Pain has never suited you, and yet it never dims your beauty.” (Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him in an almost mocking manner, drawing a smirk onto Alfie’s lips. She pushed herself further into the couch, legs tucked underneath herself while Alfie sat close to her, waiting for her to finally shed some light onto her mysterious behaviour. 

“You remember what I told you about him, don’t you?” A sigh left Alfie at her words, eyes momentarily fluttering close as if his annoyance was already getting the best of him.

“I told you I would marry you, there is no reason to mourn a life with a husband you never had. Say the words, Alfie marry me, and I will, yeah? Is this why you so desperately needed to see me, pearl? Because of some boy who fell at war like so many others?” Her jaw muscles began to tick in anger, a fire started to burn in her eyes at his words. (Y/n) had to let go of a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm before this could spiral into another fight neither of them would win.

“He’s not dead.” It was a simple sentence, and yet it carried more pain than all others she had spoken in a long time. It almost felt as if every single vowel had sharp teeth, scratching at her tongue as they rolled right off the strong muscle to leave behind wounds that wouldn’t fade. 

“What? Did his ghost suddenly appear at night? Did God speak to you-,” the sharp call of his name interrupted Alfie, forcing him to quieten down with anger tugging on his features. For a moment, neither of them spoke a word, letting a heavy silence fill the room. Ever since their paths had crossed, she had told Alfie all about him, without ever telling him his name, he knew nothing but the endless moments she could still remember, the love she had been fortunate enough to experience. 

“I heard it at work, my boss spoke of him and his brothers. He’s alive, I’ve grieved a man who was never dead all because I believed lies I had no reason not to believe. That’s why I called you, if somebody could help me find him, it’d be you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as if the sky itself was crying for her and all those horrible years she had lost to mourning him.

“What is his name, (y/n)?” Seriousness clung to Alfie as he asked the one question he had never dared to ask, shoulders tensed, lips pressed together as if he already knew the name she was about to whisper.

“Tommy Shelby.” All Alfie did was stare at her, making goosebumps appear on her arms as he shot to his feet, turning his back on (y/n) while a sound torn between a groan and a shout tore out of him. She was close to flinching, not understanding why he was reacting that way. 

“I can’t take you to him, (y/n). You’ll take the first train home tomorrow morning.” (Y/n) mimicked his movements while an almost hysterical laugh clawed out of her. Slowly, Alfie turned back towards her, both stared at one another, waiting for the other to break first. 

“I won’t leave, not before I see him again. What do you even know of Tommy, Alfie?” With two quick steps he had reached her, hands finding her warm face to cling to her. Pain was swimming in his pupils, a pain that reached far deeper than she could imagine. His calloused thumb stroked her skin as he softly shook his head at her, seemingly fighting to find the right words.

“Tommy Shelby is a devil, yeah, he’s a man who’d kill you without needing a gun nor a knife. He’s not the man you once loved, go home, forget about him and allow me to show you glimpses of a life you deserve to live, pearl.” (Y/n) pushed herself into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his racing heartbeat. She clung to the man she wished she could love like a lover, a man who’d treat her well enough to offer her the world. And yet her heart couldn’t let go of Tommy, of the life she ached for like a starving woman dreaming of a soup to warm her aching body.

“Take me to him, Alfie, this is a decision that’s only mine to make.” 

……

Her fingers were interlaced with his, feeling his thumb stroke the back of her hand while she shifted her weight from one side of the pillow to the other. Both were staring at the door, waiting for the sound of somebody knocking on the wood to reach them. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) had problems breathing, tensing even further as the sound could finally be heard. 

And then her eyes found his frame, a man dressed in a sharp suit, in a thick dark coat and a cap whose shadow hid most of his features. Alfie rose to his feet, hiding her behind his frame as if he was still giving her the chance to turn around and leave, “Tommy, I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but we both know that’d be a lie, yeah.”

“What am I doing here, Alfie? I don’t have much time.” Silence began to stretch itself through the room, a silence that was filled by the sound of (y/n) clearing her throat. Alfie was forced to step aside as she rose, forcing all eyes onto her. For a moment nobody spoke, icy eyes wandered over her features, forcing her to straighten her spine and to blink away her tears. She struggled to believe that he was real, he had changed, had grown older and yet he still looked like the boy she had sworn to marry. 

“Tommy,” his name left her like a whisper, a sound that made him take a step back as if his personal hell was awaiting him. He kept staring at her until Alfie pushed himself closer to (y/n), forcing Tommy’s eyes to flicker from her to his enemy. “Do us a favour and give us some time alone, please, Alfie.”

It took Alfie a second to give in, staring at Tommy for a few more seconds before he reluctantly left the room. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, making her jump while it began to dawn on her that she was finally alone with Tommy, just like she had imagined for all these years. 

“It felt like a dream, you know, to hear your name again after all these years where I grieved you, believing you to be dead.” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, shaking with every further word she spoke. Her wide eyes clung to his confused features, watching his expression harden. She took a step closer, halting in her step as he shook his head, forcing her to stand still once again.

“You don’t need to lie to me, (y/n). You left without a word, forcing me to return to an empty home.” A sob left her, rumbling through her louder than intended. Now it was on her to shake her head, to cover her mouth with her shaking hand while bile filled her mouth. It felt like a cruel joke, allowing her to see through the game Ada and Polly had played on both of them. 

“Tommy, they told me you died, they made me pack my bags, made me leave home to start my life all over again in a different city hours away. I didn’t leave on my free will, why should I? I was ready to marry you, to start a family, you have to believe me.” She tried to move again, successfully this time, coming to a halt right in front of him. (Y/n) allowed herself to cup his cheek like she had last done the day he had left to fight in a devastating war. His piercing eyes kept staring at her glassy ones, watching her tears fall.

“Who’s they?” It was a simple question, a question rasped out with pain dripping from the words. Her tongue kissed her teeth, all too aware that this situation was about to spiral into another heartbreak. 

“Ada and Polly.” Nothing but a whisper, words that made anger widen on his handsome features. His gloved hand found hers, gently pushing her hand from his cheek to get some more distance between them, clearly hurting (y/n) with the simple action. 

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I hope Alfie takes good care of you.” Tommy turned from her, ready to leave the room while she choked on another sob.

“He’s nothing but a brother to me, Tommy. I never loved another. I can’t even bear the thought of being close to somebody who isn’t you.” He halted in his step, letting the words wash over him before wordlessly leaving the room. Leaving (y/n) behind with another cruel sob leaving her.

……

It had been hours since she had seen Tommy, hours she had spent with her cheek pressed to Alfie’s chest, drowning in the tears that didn’t seem to stop rolling. He had clung to her, had whispered comforting words to try and soothe her pain, without any luck. All until the phone call that had reached him, asking him to bring (y/n) to the Garrison at 4pm, not followed by any explanation. 

And so it came that she was leaning against Alfie as they stepped into the empty place, letting her eyes wander through the room. She found herself distracted for a moment, until her name was shouted by Arthur’s familiar voice, forcing her into a tight hug that made her chuckle in delight. 

Her body shook as they were led towards a room in the back, allowing her eyes to meet Tommy’s icy ones. A cigarette was held between his lips, the smoke engulfed him as if his shadows had moved up his body, whispering commands to him. It took Alfie a moment to let go of (y/n), to press a kiss to her hairline, eyes drawn back to Tommy, “If I find her crying again, I won’t hesitate to finally put a bullet between your eyes just like God intended, yeah?” 

It felt like a deja-vu, reminding her of their conversation hours ago after Alfie had left. She didn't dare move as Tommy kept smoking, intensely studying her. He leaned back in his chair before he reached his hand out, wordlessly urging her closer through the now empty room. (Y/n) moved slowly, feeling her heart skipping beats as he pulled her closer, forcing her to stand between his thighs.

“I dreamt of you, back in France. You were the only thing keeping me alive. I even prayed, to you or whoever would fucking bring me back to you. And then you were gone. They said you couldn’t wait any longer, that you couldn’t endure the pain.” He had his eyebrows furrowed, no longer able to look at her. A sigh left (y/n), she leaned back against the table to get a better view of his hard features, feeling how torn he was.

“They told me you died, that there was nothing left for me here. I didn’t get a chance to protest, they packed everything up and then I was suddenly on a train up north.” Her words drew his eyes back to (y/n), looking at the woman he had always loved, even as he had tried to hate her. Tommy tugged on her hand to pull her into his lap as if he still needed to convince himself that she was real, not a trick of his tired mind.

“They will pay for the hurt they’ve caused you.” It was a promise, filled with darkness and hurt, but (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to worry. Not when she was this close to him again, finally. 

“Is it true what Alfie told me? Did you get married?” He swallowed before his hand moved up her thigh, coming to rest on her waist. The silence told her everything she needed to know, leaving her to wonder how that woman had managed to capture his heart while (y/n)’s had been missing half of hers.

“I did, her name was Grace. I loved her, and yet it was no love like ours. Nothing could ever be like that.” A soft smile tugged on her lips, trying to forget about the woman who had once been at his side. Alfie had told her of her, of every detail he had picked up on over the past months, stories (y/n) was desperate to leave behind. 

Whatever it was that urged her on to move, it grew stronger with every passing second, until her lips ghosted over his. Tommy instantly reacted, searching her lips to press a hard kiss against them. He tasted of whisky, of cigarettes, and tea, nothing like the kisses they had last shared as young adults, tasting of a bright future that had been dimmed weeks later. 

The kiss grew more passionate as she began to shift around, wrapping both arms around his neck while her legs rested on either side of his. Their tongues fought for victory as his hands moved up her sides, tracing the body he had longed for in cold and dark nights. She was his warmth, the warmth that had been robbed from him beneath the surface of the earth, hiding away in tunnels that would forever haunt him. 

“Tommy,” she mumbled his name against his lips as both sucked air into their lungs, unable to stop clinging to one another. “Touch me, prove to me that you’re real. Let me feel you, please.”

His grip on her grew tighter, icy eyes watching her for a moment before he kissed her again. His hands found the seam of her dress, pushing the skirt further up her thighs with his hands finding her warm skin. A groan tore out of him as he touched her through the fabric of her undergarments, drawing a soft moan from her parted lips. 

Tommy spoke no warning as he stood up to place her down on the table. They held eye contact, wordlessly communicating while he pulled her undergarments down her legs, hand instantly drawn back to her heat. He touched her with care, gently brushing through her slip to collect drops of arousal. 

(Y/n)’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering close as he began to circle her pulsing bundle. Even though her mind struggled to figure out if she was truly experiencing this, if her lost lover was back to bring her pleasure, she didn’t find it in herself to care, to ask any other question. 

He looked like the devil, towering over her while pushing two fingers into her tightness. Tommy had been the last man she had allowed to touch her, and yet it felt so different to be touched by him, a new sensation she was already addicted to. He moved slowly, curling his fingers against her swollen spot while his thumb kept rubbing her pulsing bundle. 

She choked on his name, calling it out into the evening as if she was trying to summon him. He marvelled at her while he brought her pleasure, reminding her of all those times he had imagined this happening, aching for her while other women warmed his bed. And yet they hadn’t been her, no other woman had ever managed to make him feel this alive, eliciting a love for life deep inside of him. 

“I need you, all of you. Make love to me like you once did, Tommy.” He fumbled with his belt, freeing his hard cock from his trousers before brushing through her slit again. His hand found her throat to pull her in for another kiss the second he sank into her, feeling her walls flutter around him. 

It felt as if the world was ending, as if this was the last thing they could experience before their lives would end. And yet, (y/n) could only pray that death would be this beautiful, this comforting, finding herself in the arms of her lover. 

Tommy moved with care, fucking her softly for a few thrusts before he picked her up again to sink back down on the chair. He allowed her to take what she was aching for, fucking herself on his cock while his strong hands supported her. Every now and then his hips began to jerk, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness. 

“Heavens, I missed you, Tommy. I missed you so much.” Her eyes were too tired to cry again, and yet she felt as if she was whimpering for him, for the time lost, and the dreams that had been buried six feet under. His hand kept a possessive hold of her throat, keeping (y/n) close to whisper to her. 

“You’re mine, (y/n), no lost time will ever change that.” The second his thumb found her bundle again she was done for, ready to let go with his name bleeding from her tongue. He held onto her as she came, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer himself. 

It hadn’t been long since he had last found comfort with another woman around, and yet it hadn’t nearly felt this good, this intense, this right. Tommy forced his eyes to stay open, to watch her fall apart as he followed moments later, imprinting himself on her walls. 

For a minute or two neither of them spoke, letting go of heavy breaths while their bodies stayed connected. Gently, he helped her off his lap, only to pull her back in the second he’d redressed. Neither of them could let go, scared that the other would leave their side otherwise. 

“What will happen now, Tommy?” She was scared to speak the question, didn’t want to be pushed away by the one man she’d never be able to stop loving. His hand pulled her back against his chest, chin placed on top of her head while alighting a cigarette. 

“Now you’ll find a new home here, with me. Our suffering ends now.”

[inamindfarfaraway]

YES

The Little Match Girl and Tiny Tim are meant to be best friends. Impoverished kids? Check. Doomed by the narrative, the failings of classist society and their fragile health? Check. Saved by Scrooge’s intervention? Check.

(The retelling of The Little Match Girl takes place on Christmas Day and night instead of New Year’s Eve, hence the crossover lining up in “Christmas Day” since she’s alive at that time, meaning that her death is an AU where Scrooge doesn’t reform. So he’s free to rudely bump into her “in the fading light between day and night” in “Buy a Match” instead of being at Fred’s party. She and Tim both die in the same bad timeline! Adds a new layer to Scrooge taking one of her candles and blowing it out in “Be the Light”.)

But Tim has two amazing parents and a large, loving family. LMG only has her abusive dad; her grandmother is dead and her mother isn’t mentioned, and probably left or died before she could remember and grieve her, unlike Grandma. In the original fairytale, it’s stated that her fathe will beat her if she comes home empty-handed. Scrooge also had a dad who was neglectful and “pretty cruel”, sending him away a lot as a kid, an unmentioned mother and a different female relative who he directly mourns, his sister. “And the Little Match Girl was left all alone”/“I see a boy sitting all alone”. They can bond over their tragic backstories! They can figure out what it means to have and be a good father together! And Bob and Emily can teach them both how good parenting works!

A scene in A Christmas Carol that’s rarely adapted is the Ghost of Christmas Past showing Scrooge how Belle’s been without him in her life: fantastic! She has a nice house, a happy marriage and loads of children. He’s struck with longing for that domesticity and familial love. An excerpt:

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.

‘Belle,’ said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, ‘I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.’

‘Who was it?’ ‘Guess!’

‘How can I? Tut, don't I know,’ she added in the same breath, laughing as he laughed. ‘Mr. Scrooge.’

‘Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.’

‘Spirit!’ said Scrooge in a broken voice, ‘remove me from this place.’

Ebenezer Scrooge. Canonically. In the original novella. Wants a daughter. If in the VHS Christmas Carols universe, the Little Match Girl survives and Jim gets his watch back, it’s only fair that Scrooge gets a daughter of his own!

So uh AU where Scrooge adopts the little match girl and he finds out about Della being Belle's daughter and then Scrooge, the match girl, Della & Jim and the Cratchits all become one big happy family?

(I love them all sm)

[discordiansamba]

thinking about the bad end variation of the lee from the tea shop au again. thinking about how iroh has long since resigned himself to the fact that his nephew is likely dead. he held out hope for as long as he could, but he is certain that if his nephew were alive, someone would have found him by now. azula likely knows what happened to him, but she refuses to talk.

then he receives a letter from sokka, telling him to come to ba sing se.

iroh makes the trek. he does not know what to expect when he gets there. what he gets is a grim-faced sokka, holding a pair of logbooks. he tells him he's found a lead on zuko, and that he needs to read this. he warns him that it's not going to be an easy read- and that he's sorry.

he's right. they are not an easy read.

iroh is an old man now. he was old when he took the throne, but he is older still now. but reading the logbook still stokes a fire in the old man's heart- a simmering rage that makes him want to return to his old ways as a general and burn this wretched city to the ground.

he does not do that, of course.

"the person who did this is dead," sokka says, "-if that's any comfort."

it is not. iroh would have liked to do it himself.

"...i know where to find him," sokka also tells him, "-if you... if you want to meet lee."

iroh does. very much so. sokka directs him to a tea shop called the lotus blossom, in the middle ring. lee runs it. iroh removes his crown headpiece and dons humble robes of earth kingdom brown, styling his hair in earth kingdom fashion. it is enough to disguise him. the tea shop is a modest one- not as fancy as the jasmine dragon had been, but certainly an improvement over pao's.

he is greeted by a young woman with braided hair and a sleeping infant swaddled on her back and is guided to a seat. he asks for the owner's favorite blend- and one of these scrumptious looking fruit tarts, if you do not mind. she returns with them, and iroh drinks deep the scent of jasmine tea.

he always hoped zuko would drink more of it.

there are two young girls sitting at an empty table near him. the eldest is reading a book. the younger is kicking her feet impatiently. iroh can see the fire nation in them, plain as day- as well as in the sleeping infant. he asks the young woman if he might have a chance to speak to the owner. the tea is delicious. he would like to pay his compliments.

she smiles, and tells him she'll fetch her husband right away.

iroh tries very hard not to stare when his nephew emerges from the kitchen. he wears his hair long and braided, concealing his scar with his bangs. he wears the green robes of an earth kingdom man of modest income, and a starched white apron over that. he is taller than he remembers, and carries himself in a different manner entirely.

"dad!" the youngest of the two girls rushes him. "i'm bored. can I go play with my friends?"

his nephew laughs and ruffles her hair. he tells her she can, and asks the eldest- izumi- if she doesn't mind walking her to her friend's place. izumi sighs, but she soon leaves with her younger sister, holding her hand. iroh would place them at around ten and six, if he had to guess.

his nephew greets him with a smile. there is no recognition in his eyes. iroh had anticipated it, but it still hits him like a hard blow. he shows none of this on his face, instead complimenting him on his tea. his nephew thanks him, but is soon pulled away by another customer. iroh watches him out of the corner of his eye.

...it's true. his nephew is a different person now.

but he is alive. he is alive, and he is happy. he has his own family. a successful tea shop. given how long he has resigned himself to zuko being dead, this seems a kinder outcome. iroh lingers in the lotus blossom until closing, simply watching his nephew. he contemplates his next step. sokka has told z- lee the truth, so he could reveal himself.

he could also leave without saying anything.

his nephew has a happy life here. does he really have the right to complicate it even further? and yet... iroh cannot help himself. he has mourned zuko many times over these past two decades. he must speak with lee, or he does not think he can ever let zuko rest.

he lingers past closing time. he knows it is rude behavior, but lee is patient in a way zuko never was. once he is the last person left in the store, iroh stands up and asks lee if he might speak with him again. he removes the five-pronged crown from where he has hidden it, and slides it into his top knot.

"i am told," iroh says, "-that this is where I might find the man who was once my nephew."

[cloudxgears]

I feel like what people don't get about Vi being so affronted by Jinx compared to Powder, going as far as to say "You're not my sister, you killed her," and trying to sacrifice Jinx at the alter to her idea of Powder, is that she spent all that time in prison with Powder being the only thing she had to hold on to.

Vi's confirmed backstory is that she had two goals in Stillwater: beat up and basically vigilante attack all inmates with association to Silco, and get back to Powder one day to look after her. When you're forced to endure a harsh environment and don't have any way out of your situation in sight for a very long time, possibly ever, you fixate hard on specific goals. You develop a really deep sacred core to your identity and beliefs so you don't go insane.

Vi's identity was 1) Take revenge on Silco for killing Vander and 2) Look after Powder, as were his dying words. And then she gets out and Silco is instantly dead and it turns out Powder is a young woman called Jinx now who doesn't really need looking after anymore.

Frequent beatings, fighting every day, surviving isolation, solitary confinement, surviving Stillwater — her fantasy of Powder and getting back to her was what she stayed alive for, that was her goal, and she had this fixed idea of her in her head this whole time because that's what she needed. She needed a constant. It would be a bit like Powder being her God at that point. It was shared by the creators that "Powder" was the name she called out to like a prayer and begged for after beatings when she was bloody and in pain and at her lowest.

But then she's broken out of that fantasy and realises, wait, this is a grown young woman with her own shit going on, completely different from the comparatively simpler and sweeter little girl she was when they were separated. She got to have the powder blue tearful reunion she'd been dreaming of for years with that idea of her for only five minutes, before she got to see the new side of Jinx and that hope of simplicity and comfort was dashed, snatched away in an instant, like sustenance finally being waved in your face after years of starvation before being plucked right back again. It would be a bit like being thrown into a void. It would be like having your god cruelly ripped away from you.

She's like wait my little sister doesn't actually exist anymore (because that's how ageing works lol) but of course Vi never thought that far ahead because you can't afford to think about the future or its potential challenges on that level when your every day for 7 years is a battle. Vi is basically having one long internal panic attack over going from the small, gruelling but relatively predictable world of prison to all these massive changes.

So now it's like, what do I do with myself now? Who is my sister now when there is almost nothing in her that I can identify as safe and familiar? These big new questions and challenges that Vi was not ready for and does not currently have the capacity to deal with.

People underestimate how much Vi actually needs to act out. She was the parentified child, and then she had to grow up way too fast, survived solitary confinement and prison life and generally growing up in an environment very different to the outside world. She's gonna be fucked up. In a way, Arc1 is like Vi throwing a total tantrum because fuck i've just come out of 7 years of hell and you were supposed to be different and now what? Now what?

Going from a fixed idea in her head for 7 years of sweet Powder, the girl who relied on her and needed her, to the reality of someone as unpredictable and independent as Jinx would be so jarring. Vi has no comfort to hold on to, she's confused and reeling, thrown out there and forced to catch up with this new world that went on without her, a world that Jinx is adapted to but she is not.

Of course she falls back hard on Caitlyn and the enforcer thing. What else do you think she has to do with herself? You know what it's like to grow up in imprisonment for 7 years and get out with literally nothing but the clothes on your back? You will be surprised what you will cling to hard when you have no other direction, nothing, and no one.

I think people expect Vi to be this great responsible moral figure because that's her cover poster, that's what she's grown up knowing she's supposed to be. But you actually think you get to have strong desires when you come from literally nothing, and then the only thing you had left is taken from you too? Of course she was going to follow along with Caitlyn, she needed someone (a motherly figure, which is why we all know Caitlyn looks deliberately like her mother) to lead her in this crazy new world, she needed someone to tell her what to do. Of course she was going to become an enforcer if it was an occupation, something to throw herself into to distract from the fact that she has nothing now.

I'm really liking Vi's development because it shows at a certain point self-preservation and personal needs do become stronger than even family or loved ones. At a certain point of true desperation the things that are supposed to matter stop mattering and all you can focus on is I Need This until you have what you need. Vi is in a state of desperation. Her need for stability and a realm she could excel and be valued in when the Lanes don't belong to her anymore becomes stronger than the uniform her parents' killer was wearing, and her selfish need for her comforting dream of Powder is stronger than her capacity to adapt to this stranger, Jinx. She needs someone to finally care for her instead, but she won't get it, so in Arc2 she will sink a while before she'll swim.

More than anything Vi just needs to feel safe, needs a purpose, and needs someone to lead her (or to learn to lead herself when she's ready. But she isn't yet. Maybe arc3 who knows.)

And then god, the end of Arc1 when Caitlyn abandons her too. She's lost her god, her family, all sense of familiarity, and we get to see her as the blubbering baby she is inside for the first time. So good~

That's not to say Vi isn't crazy strong or capable of being responsible again or that she won't climb out of this eventually but she needs to fall for now, and her story on a human level is a lot more selfish (the way most people's are when it comes down to it tbh).

[bestcadaverinthejujutsumorgue]

Depending on how thorough Maki's slasher movie moment was (she seemed mostly focused on combatants), it's actually pretty likely Toji's mother/Megumi's grandma is still alive. Food for thought.

[darksideofthecoffeebean]

I love this so much. He's just as handsome as Katrine. ❤️ I like to imagine that they shared a very long and happy life after the war. I guess it took some time for Chuck/Amal to get accustumed to life in France but he's an open-minded guy and he trusts Katrine blindly.

Oh, this gives me so many ideas... Based on the actors' ages, Katrine and Chuck would've both been born around 1900. That means they both lived through not only one but two world wars.

I think it made especially Katrine grow up fast. Her father and fiancé (Justin) died on a mission in the last days of WW1 while she had to look after her mother and early teenage sister, Phoebe.

I imagine this experience of hardship made Katrine decide to live her life to the fullest, which is why she moved to Paris in the 1920ies and threw herself into the party scene. She tried to make a living as a bar singer but - while talented in many areas - had to realise that singing wasn't among them (just watch Kate Mulgrew as a country singer in "Dallas". 😄). It's still a sore spot for Katrine which is why she's a tad too salty with Mademoiselle DeNeuf.

Interwar-Paris is also the time and place where Katrine becomes politicised. She meets and befriends Tuvok (a highly educated man from one of the French colonies in Africa), who introduces her to the political circles that will later form the Resistance. It's also where she meets Mark, who becomes her second fiancé.

When Nazi Germany takes over Paris in 1940, Katrine and Tuvok flee to St. Claire in the south of France, where they open the 'Coeur de Lion' to run their Resistance cell. Mark joins the French Army and is soon lost. When Katrine meets Chuck, Mark has been missing for over four years and she has to assume that he's dead. When Mark returns, Chuck and Katrine were just married and run the 'Coeur de Lion' together. After an emotional reunion, everyone's just happy that they're all still alive and remain friends. Mark moves to Québec to start a new life.

---

Ah, I think that's enough for now. 😄 I'd like to have Chuck a background as a Native American but I don't know enough about how that might play into the WW2 scenario and how he grew up.

There are also many questions still open: Do Katrine and Chakotay have a child? What do they do in the 1950ies, 60s, 70s and 80s?

I'm pretty convinced they'd be a part of the civil rights movement in the 60s/70s. How do they eventually die?

AU white tux killing game chakotay

Amal Miller, the show runner of Le Coeur de Lion, as well as leader of the underground French resistance

[bumblesimagines]

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

[automaticroadpeachdragon]

fly little bird, fly

Warnings: Reader gets injured, (that’s all I can think of lol)

Rio Vidal x Female reader

Words written: 2.2k

Chapter 1 : The Bird Flew Astray

1680

Darting through the woods away from Witch Hunters was the last thing you thought you’d be doing on a day like this, but alas you had to settle for it. You didn’t mean for this to happen, but someone from the village had caught you shapeshifting and reported it.

You had managed to escape your home through the window in your bedroom— but that didn’t last long, being as one of the townspeople had been walking around the outback. It was right there that you bolted, your navy dress rippling in the wind behind you.

You mutated yourself into a deer, your hooves thudding against the earth as you drove deeper and faster. It was an integral choice, better to help you drive further away than to draw back. Gunshots wrung the air around you, your heart pounding in your ears.

Of course, they knew it was you, the only deer out this time and day. There was no going back now, you couldn’t relive the moment, so you drove onward. Hoping that god or satin save your soul. Another gunshot wrung out, this time accompanied by arrows that flung past and overhead— and then, just as you focused your attention back on the path you were taking, a cobblestone wall, could be made out. You took your chance at the last second and before you could do so much as run into it, you shape-shifted into a bird— more specifically, the only bird you could think of at the moment. A swan. And flew upwards, into the sky, your wings working hard and overtime.

You could already feel the drastic change the shifting was taking on your body, the strain in your muscles. The way your wings began to quiver, but you pushed on. Flying higher and higher into the sky, over trees and land.

But still, the hunters pursued you— because you were a witch and they wanted you dead. You had known of the hunters close by, but you had never feared them, not until now. You could hear them from below, shooting up into the sky, calling out ‘Come back here, you devil.’ But you ignored them.

You knew you were a mistake— a mismatch in the very existence. You were never meant to be on earth or anywhere really, but here you were. It had taken you years to understand that, but no less did it ache your heart. Nobody wanted you, because you were everything that wasn’t human and everything that wasn’t human, didn’t want you.

You were not supposed to be here, walking the earth like it owed you when all you did was disguise yourself into something you weren’t. But that’s all you knew, you weren’t made, you were forged. You were a child of the devil, and someone had raised you from the fiery pit of hell.

You swiveled around arrows, dodging bullets and trying everything in your power to survive. One strike and that’s all it took to send you right back to your home away from home, one piercing bullet that would kill you in an instant. You may have been a shapeshifter, but that did not make you immortal. You would die one day just like everyone else, it just may take a little longer than most average human life. Being a shapeshifter meant you outlived your offspring, like you did. You had a sister once, but she had gotten herself killed. She was a witch, not you, but different. The hunters burned her at the stake. You weren’t close to her, so seeing her die didn’t have much of an effect on you.

Though you later mourned her, that was because you realized how utterly alone in the world you were. You got used to the feeling, but still every once in a while you felt an ache. A yearning to be seen, to be wanted. To feel an embrace so warm and welcoming— to understand that being different was okay and not wrong.

A sudden movement from below shooting up at you and piercing your skin grasps your attention. Being all caught up in your head had caused exactly what you feared, and now you were paying the price. Your wings twinged and then you were falling, panic gripped you suddenly and you desperately tried to get a grip and stop yourself from hitting the ground, but your wings wouldn’t budge, the pain shooting a hot shard of white pain down your back.

You heard the sound of cheering a distance away from the hunters and you were met with the sight of trees. The air shifting around you, suddenly to cool and dank. When your body collided with the ground, the pain only seemed to grow and suddenly you heard a tree branch snap and the sound of footprints. You tried to move, but your body hurt all over. You tried again, getting ahold of yourself, still in bird form, and managed to flip up onto your palmates, gripping the ground from falling over and looking around you for a hiding place. A sigh of relief washed over you when your eyes made contact with an underbrush— you bolted for it and tangled yourself with the plants surrounding it— taking advantage of your size to better hide yourself.

The hunters walked down the path and stopped, looking around for you. When they didn’t see any sight of you, they continued walking along. You stayed where you were for a few minutes longer, scared that if you made any noise, they would come back.

You slowly came out but stayed close enough to the underbrush in case the hunters came back. You don’t know how long you stayed there for when you heard a door opening in the distance, you looked up, and a green hooded figure came into view. You scrambled back into the underbrush, but not before her voice boomed out.

“Who’s there?”

Before you could so much as move to hide, the woman rounds a tree and locks eyes with your swan. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the mysterious green-clothed woman. She asses you, then cocks her head to one side, squinting, and looks to your injured wing.

“I know you’re not a sawn,” she says. “So you can turn back.”

You hesitate— how did she know? She rolls her eyes at you. Then adds, “There not going to see you, there’s a rune around this house that makes you invisible to the human eye.”

You ever so slowly allow yourself to come back to your human form and when you do, you realize that you are naked. You go to cover yourself with your arms, only to remember one of your arms is injured. You look down at your injured arm, you have an arrow between your ulna and radius. You feel sick looking at the sight and swallow, looking away and back to the woman.

She’s looking at you with peculiar interest as if she’s trying to figure you out. You look away again, shivering, your dark messy hair coming out of its bun and spilling over your shoulders.

She breaks the silence with an aggravated huff, “Are you mute?”

You shake your head and whisper, “I….” but nothing comes out.

“You’re an interesting, little thing, aren’t you?” she says quietly, then comes closer.

You tense as she nears. She must sense your uneasiness because she’s whispering next, “I won’t hurt you, I just want to see.”

She looks you in the eyes as she squats down in front of you and asks softly again, “Can I?”

She motions her head to your injured arm, you nod and release a shaky breath when her hands gently come to yours, lifting it to inspect the damage, you whimper in pain.

“You took quite the fall back there baby, I’m honestly surprised you’re still alive,” she says, looking back up to your face.

A hand comes up to brush away the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of your bun, her eyes tracing every curve she can find on your face.

“How did this happen?” she asks.

You swallow and stutter, “S— Someone from my village caught me changing form.”

The woman scowls gently, “You’ve got to be careful, sweetheart. These people could kill you.”

“You think?” You snap, then look away, ashamed of your outburst.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Her lips twitch up into a sly grin, “No need. You’ve been through a lot today, how about I take care of your little…” she ponders on her words. “misfortunate run in.”

Your lips quirk up at that— you nod and she pulls back just enough to remove her cape from her body and pull around your shivering form. When her skin makes contact with yours though, a jolt of energy runs down your back, gripping at the very essence of your life. You lock eyes with her and for a second you see her eyes flicker with something that you don’t understand until she moves to help you stand.

You get up onto your feet and wince as the blood rushes down into your toes, every fiber of your being aching from driving yourself too hard. She grips your shoulder tightly, steadying you as you move to take the first step— you feel yourself falling before your brain manages to catch up, but luckily for you, the woman catches you before you can hit the ground.

“Careful,”

You take in a shaking breath, nodding your head, and move to walk again. This time though one of her hands is holding your waist.

She leads you slowly to her little cobblestone house and opens the door— and you are grateful for the heat that clashes with your shivering cold form. You take in your surroundings as she moves to shut the door after getting you inside.

The space is small, the ceiling overhead, whirling with moss, that seems to grow with the exterior of the cobblestone. You bring your head down to look around your surroundings, between the space of her kitchen is a rocking chair by the fire and a bed settling up against the wall in the corner closest to a fireplace.

She leads you to the bed, settling you down before heading for the kitchen. She grabs a basin filled with water and a rag, turns back to you, and walks the distance to you. She settles down and moves to dig the rag into the water.

She looks back up to you and reaches for your arm. You flinch when the cool water touches your skin, but her grip seems to tighten.

“You’re a rare kind of witch, you know?” she says. “I’ve never seen or met a shapeshifter before.”

You swallow, “There aren’t any others out there.”

She locks eyes with yours, “What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one.”

She snorts. “Everyone’s got a story.”

You hesitate and look away. “There’s nothing much about me.”

Sympathy flashes in the woman’s eyes before she diverts her attention to the wound. “Can I at least get a name?”

“It’s Y\N,”

“Hmmmmm…. makes sense for such a pretty girl.” she winks at you.

You blush and look down at your lap, “What’s yours?”

“I’m Rio,” she says.

“Thank you, Rio,” you say softly. “For helping me. Rarely, I’m ever given such attention.”

For a moment, she pauses her work on your arm and looks back up at you. Her eyes squinted, studying you, but there was also a familiarity within them— an understanding. You feel suddenly drawn to her. You think that it’s because you’ve been alone for so long that now, potentially, you could just be desperate. But you then realize it’s something deeper, something so warm and fuzzy, you wish to know what the feeling is, you try to pinpoint it on every map in your head, only to come back empty.

It’s gone just as fast as it appeared, she looks back down to your arm and shifts it to get a better angle, propping it up with some pillows.

“I have an idea, do you trust me?” she asked.

You squinted, but replied wearily, “Yes.”

She smiled softly and lifted her hands. In a circular motion over the arrow, you see it begin to glow a dark green. Though it was still in your skin, you could almost feel as if it was shifting, but oddly enough, it wasn’t hurting.

“It’s a healing spell,” Rio says before you can ask. “Most witches use them with injuries. It mends skin and fights infection. In your case, it’s dissolving the metal.”

Your eyes widen and you look back up at her, “How is that even possible?”

She smirks at you and replies wittily, “Magic, baby.”

When you look back down, the arrow is gone. You turned your arm over and back in pure shock. You glance back up to Rio and she watches you with curiosity.

“You haven’t practiced much magic, haven’t you?”

You sigh. “I’ve had nobody to teach me, I’ve only ever had myself.”

“I can teach you.”

Your eyes widen, “Ooh no, you don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

“—But,” Rio started up, “it’ll cost you.”

You furrow your brows and ask, “What?”

“I’ll need something from you, something only you can give me.”

You swallow, your breath catching in your throat. “What do I give?”

“Yourself.”

“What?”

“Be mine.”

You contemplated her offer— you had been alone for years, and now here came Rio asking you to be hers. But at what cost? And why? You suppose it didn’t matter, after all, you were desperate.

She wanted you.

She wanted you.

“I give myself to you, Rio.”

She smiles slightly, “Please, call me, Lady Death.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Coldest Blue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader Warnings: Angst. Word count: ~2.1k

Summary: When her husband returns unexpectedly from the ongoing war, she is elated. However, the sinister news she receives in the days that follow threatens to shatter her happiness.

Author's note: Happy Halloween! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She startled as a cold hand was placed gently upon her arm, the sensation tugged her violently from the warm and blissful comfort of slumber that she had been about to succumb to. As she turned over in the bed, her heart felt as though it ceased beating in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the unexpected sight of her husband.

“Aemond!” She gasped, all traces of sleep suddenly cleared from her mind.

She reached out to touch him, and immediately he clasped her hands in his. The contact sent a shiver down her spine - he had always had that effect upon her, the simplest brush of his fingers against hers often caused butterflies in her stomach. It had been that way ever since their mother had informed them they were to be married. However, the juxtaposition of the chill of his skin against the buttery-soft warmth of the crisp, white bedding was jarring.

He must have come straight to her after having dismounted Vhagar, and his skin was still chilled from the night air of the flight – all the way from Harrenhal – a place that had torn her twin, her husband, away from her for months. It was no surprise that he felt shockingly unfamiliar, the last time they had touched felt like a distant memory.

She had made a home in loneliness, the ache of his absence, alongside continuous fear and uncertainty had become so familiar that it felt like slipping on an old pair of slippers. No longer would she pine for the weekly raven that delivered news of his well being, and declarations of his love and loyalty to her, instead she must now grow accustomed to his presence by her side, though it was an adjustment she was all too happy to make.

“I did not know you would be returning,” she said softly, a twinge of guilt in her tone – had she known then she would not have been abed, she would have prepared for his return, provided a warmer welcome. A man that had spent months away at war did not deserve to return to the sight of his wife’s sleeping back. “You did not send word.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, releasing his hands as she leaned against the pillows gazing down at him. Even in the dim candlelight that burned low upon the bedside table – she had taken to sleeping with a lit candle when Aemond had departed, unable to bear sleeping alone in the dark – his eye was still as vibrant as ever. At least that still feels familiar. Eyes of the coldest blue, that stared into hers with such intensity she was often torn between wanting to lose herself in it, or turn her face away for fear of that very thing happening.

“I just wanted to see you,” he replied quietly, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Her mind reeled with a thousand questions and he laid there patiently, watching her impassively, as she sorted through her thoughts, deciding upon which she would ask first.

Does mother know you’re back? Aegon? How are you feeling?

“Is it over then? Have you come back to me?” are the questions she finally settled upon.

“Mmm…it is over,” he told her, “Daemon is dead.”

Her breath caught in her throat as happy tears filled her eyes, not quite able to believe what she had heard. “I have missed you so,” she whispered in a trembling voice, “you cannot imagine how much it gladdens my heart to have you back.”

“You should sleep, my love,” he murmured.

“What?!” she demanded, outraged by the notion. Her lips parted and her brow furrowed as she stared at him incredulously. She had not seen him for months, how could he simply appear in their bed without warning and then just expect her to fall asleep?

“I have not known peace in such a long time,” he explained softly, “I just want to watch you as you sleep. I did not mean to wake you, I just could not resist touching you.”

“We need to tell mother that you are back,” she argued, reaching for him again. Once more, he took her hand in his, his slender fingers chilly against the soft skin of the back of her hand. “Aegon must know you have returned.”

“Later,” he insisted, “sleep.”

Despite the commanding nature of his request, his vibrant, blue eye held within it a silent plea that she could not ignore. She sighed, turned onto her side, and closed her eyes. There was a part of her that had daydreamed that Aemond would ravish her upon his return, eager for the closeness and intimacy that only she could provide, after such a long separation. She was more than a little disappointed that he had made no such attempt, though she supposed he was tured after his journey home. 

She had expected the excitement of the past few moments to prevent her from falling asleep. To her surprise, the pull of sleep dragged her under swiftly, a comforting, inky blackness enveloping her. Eyes of the coldest blue filled her dreams that night.

When she awoke the next morning, her tired mind was convinced she had dreamed Aemond’s return, especially as when she turned to his side of the bed, it was empty, utterly unrumpled as though it had not been slept in. Her heart sank, disappointment settling upon her chest like a stone that threatened to crush her. The mere act of throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed felt like an effort, her bones felt heavy with sadness.

She padded barefoot, slowly, to the adjoining nursery, stopping in her tracks when she saw the back of Aemond, stood in his riding leathers, looking over the cradle of their son, Rhaegar. The warm wave of relief that washed over her almost made her knees buckle, such was the elation that she had not imagined the return of her beloved twin and husband. Her cheeks almost ached under the strain of her smile, she had not expressed such joy in a long time.

Rhaegar had been a tiny babe when Aemond had pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head in farewell all those months ago. Now, he was approaching his second name day, and growing to resemble his father more with each passing day, his features possessed a sharpness that was uncanny to Aemond’s.

The infant babbled happily as he sat in his cradle, chubby fists clenched around a wooden dragon toy.

“Are you pleased to see your father?” She cooed as she came to stand beside Aemond.

Rhaegar squealed upon seeing her, waving his toy vigorously.

“You may hold him if you wish,” she urged her husband gently.

Aemond shook his head. “He seems happy enough, I do not wish to disturb him. My boy…he has grown.”

She hummed in agreement, nodding. “He looks more like you with each passing day.”

Aemond reached out a hand towards the child, stopping short of touching him. His expression became pensive, a faraway look in his eye, before he pulled his arm back, letting it drop back to his side.

His behaviour in the short time he had been back was puzzling to her, yet she knew that war changed people. Hopefully, as time passed, he would return more to himself, and be the man she married once more.

He turned and walked from the room as the nursemaid entered and lifted the child from his cradle in order to wash and dress him for the day.

As she returned to her own chamber, she noticed that bread, fruit and cheese had been laid out upon the table, by her chambermaids, for her to break her fast. Aemond had taken the armchair beside the fireplace, his favourite place to settle before he had left to defend Aegon’s claim to the throne.

“Will you join me for breakfast?” She asked hopefully.

“No,” he responded, “I have little appetite.”

She pursed her lips. She wanted to press the issue, he needed to eat, to maintain his strength, yet she did not wish to nag and cause him any additional torment after he had already endured so much.

“We will have to take Rhaegar to see Vhagar now you are back,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood, as she seated herself at the table and placed grapes upon her plate. “He is big enough now that he can actually comprehend what she is.”

“Vhagar…did not survive the battle,” Aemond uttered, staring off into the unlit fireplace, his tone sombre.

No wonder he seemed so different. Losing his dragon would have been a devastating blow to Aemomd, after all he had endured to claim her. She was his most prized possession.

“I am sorry, my love,” she murmured, rising from her seat and approaching him. “How…how did it happen?”

“Caraxes and her were surprisingly well matched. They both now rest at the bottom of the God’s Eye…alongside Daemon, and…”

He stopped, shaking his head and lifting his gaze to meet hers. The sadness within made her want to cry. As she stepped towards him, he held his hand out, the coolness of his skin enveloping the warmth of hers.

“And what?” she pressed quietly.

“It does not matter. At least I am reunited with you, I got to see you.”

She was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted her. She sighed, calling out for them to enter.

A page boy opened the door, just enough for him to slip through the crack, before bowing to her. “Princess, the King has requested that you go at once to the Small Council chamber.”

She frowned, scoffing as she replied, “can it not wait until I am dressed?”

“Apologies, princess,” the page boy said, not meeting her eye, “the king insists that it is urgent.”

“Very well,” she huffed, tying her robe tighter around her nightgown, “I shall be there momentarily.”

The page boy bowed, leaving the way he had come.

“I suppose we could not avoid it forever,” Aemond said wearily, rising from his seat.

He trailed after her as they walked to the Small Council chamber, his steps quiet behind hers.

“Do not forget that I love you, I always have,” he told her softly as they approached the heavy doors.

“And I love you,” she said in turn, her heart fluttering as the coolness of his fingers briefly entwined with hers.

She did not knock, simply pushed open the door and stepped in. Only Aegon and their mother stood at the long, wooden table.

Her mother’s big, brown eyes were tearful, as Aegon leaned over a parchment that was rolled out before him, his features pinched in anguish. His bottom lip trembled in a manner that only occurred when he was angered to the point of near hysteria.

She had expected them both to be overjoyed to see Aemond, considering he stood at her side, but both seemed too engrossed in the contents of the letter they were reading.

“Oh, my dearest love,” her mother whispered tearfully, clutching a handkerchief as she stepped towards her and embraced her tightly.

“What? What is it?” She asked, and pulled back, brow furrowed in concern as she looked at her mother and then Aegon.

Alicent kept her arms around her, stroking her hair gently, as Aegon looked up from the parchment. His voice was quiet, almost croaky, as he spoke. “News from Harrenhal.”

What more could there possibly be?!

“So?” she asked in exasperation, “what is it?”

“There was a battle between Aemond and Daemon above the God’s Eye…”

I know this, I know this, I know this!

She wanted to scream in frustration, he was not telling her anything she did not know already. She pulled her shoulders up towards her ears momentarily, an impatient gesture for him to continue.

“Daemon is dead,” Aegon said, swallowing thickly, “and so is Aemond.”

She almost wanted to laugh. No, he was not! What a ridiculous thing to say.

“No, he is–” she reached out to Aemond, grasping the front of his riding leathers, her breath hitching as her hand passed straight through him.

Her blood ran cold as her horrified eyes lifted to meet his.

“I just wanted to see you,” he murmured, eyes of the coldest blue looking straight into hers as he faded away to nothing.

“...he’s gone,” she whispered tearfully. The painful clenching of her heart dulled every other sensation, and she did not even feel it when her mother wrapped her arms tighter around her.

Eyes of the coldest blue, let me see into you.

He had returned to her one final time, and would never again.

[dawnchorus-if]

‎ ‎‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ Your sister is dead, murdered and mutilated and left to rot in a brothel like a sickly dog. You finally know your purpose: revenge.

DAWN CHORUS is an 18+ interactive fiction about death, love, and the song of new morning. Demo TBA.

You live in The Rocks, a decaying settlement in the shadowed outskirts of the kingdom, Cape Lyra. Once a cozy village, The Rocks has withered into a decrepit ruin since the assassination of King Cedric. Queen Lyra, for whom the kingdom was named, became consumed by grief and neglected the outer villages. Now, The Rocks is a place where even the birds come to die.

Desperate to earn money for the both of you, your sister ventured to Cape Lyra with her best friend, Jax. Only Jax returned, covered in your sister's blood, with a hazed description of her killer. Driven by the need for retribution, you and Jax set out for the kingdom, determined to find and punish the sick soul who took your sister's life. When revenge is your only remaining purpose, a life for a life only seems fair.

You hope.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎Fully customise yourself, from your name and appearance to your sexuality to your greatest woes and wants. Choose your approach to grief, to anger, to revenge—drown in your sorrows or push them aside in favour of a... different kind of vice. Curate a story that revolves around who you are, and what you'll stand for.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Explore relationships with six different romanceable characters, and a multitude of other characters to befriend (or behead). Interact with a diverse cast of characters, each with their own impact to leave on the story. Just... be careful who you trust, some people might not be who they say they are.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Find out what really happened to your sister. Hunt down her killer, or killers, and determine your own ability to play executioner on her behalf. Open doors to dark rooms in the royal family history, find out that there's a lot more darkness in Cape Lyra than there is light.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Get involved in the politics of Cape Lyra. The people can only be neglected for so long before they start to revolt, right? What side of history will you be on? Or will you be too blinded by grief to care who gets hurt?

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Exorcise a demon, maybe.

DAWN, born amidst the morning birdsong, the cherished youngest child of King Cedric and Queen Lyra, and the heir apparent to the throne. They don't often get to see outside of Cape Lyra's walls, so don't fault them for being a little juvenile in their knowledge of the world, it's not born from a lack of desire. There's a youthful charm to Dawn, and a deep-seated eagerness to know more about the kingdom they'll one-day rule. [M/F, 22]

ASA KYNES, climbing the ranks as one of Cape Lyras most dedicated royal guards, Kynes is as formidable as they are resolute. You won't get past them very easily, they've got keen judgement skills, and you're up to something, they're sure of it. Kynes is loyal, and more than willing to lay their life down in servitude to the monarchy. Getting Kynes to open up is hard, but may be more than worth it. [M/F, 26]

JAX HANSLEY, your sisters best friend and now your accomplice in avenging her. Jax is royalty in The Rocks, charismatic beyond belief and has been teasing you since you were just starting to walk. Extravagant and always looking for something to do, you'll never find yourself bored around them. Plus, you couldn't get rid of Jax even if you wanted to, they're the closest thing to family that you have left. [M/F, 24]

CERYS SELINE, owner and face of The Rabbits Foot, Cape Lyra's busiest tavern. Cerys is a stern woman who works her ass off day and night, but there's a sweet undertone to the way she speaks: something nurturing. She's a pillar of the kingdom, well-connected and respected. There's more to her than meets the eye, sure, but for now she's more than willing to aid you in finding your sisters killer. [F, 26]

ARTHUR CASE, a priest who has been ousted from the kingdom for reasons he just won't speak aloud. Left with only one leg and crumbs of his faith, he's living in his late father's old church a short trek from the kingdoms gates. Pop in for a service one day, maybe confessionals don't always have to be one-sided. [M, 29]

??? — something cold in the shadows, and its eyes are on you.

DAWN CHORUS contains some heavy topics, such as graphic depictions of death, violence, drug use, explicit language and skippable sexual content. Classism is also a present topic. Readers discretion is advised.

reblogs r so appreciated and asks are more than welcome ^^

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[girlgenius1111]

i'll never leave. never mind.

alexia putellas x reader after the loss of her brother, r tries to deal with her world collapsing. alexia is determined to help her through it, but r doesn't want to drag her girlfriend down with her. some things in life are just too hard to overcome; for r, will this be one of them? angst + fluff. mentions of suicide. basically, a long fic about grief and healing. this is so sad and so long im so sorry. fluff throughout though, because i'm me.

-------

The phone was staring at you, you were sure. Or maybe it was the missed calls from your girlfriend, the dry texts you’d sent her that gave no indication of how you were feeling. You were at the airport, flying back to Barcelona, and Alexia didn’t even know you were coming. Originally, you weren’t supposed to fly back until the weekend. You’d moved your flight up, though, beyond desperate to see Alexia. 

Your perfect girlfriend, who had been checking on you everyday. Who had offered to come to you if you needed her, no matter what it took. You’d been distant, and you knew it. From the moment you’d heard, you’d pulled away from Alexia. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, and it wasn’t what you’d wanted, but there was no choice for you. Everyone else had to come first. 

You were putting everyone else first when you played in the second leg against Chelsea, hours after finding out that your brother was dead. When you flew home right from London, but didn’t let Alexia go with you. When you’d insisted she return to Barcelona with the team, that she couldn’t come with you. When you only called her to say a brief goodnight, only returned her texts to assure her that you were, in fact, okay. 

It would have made her insecure, maybe, if she hadn’t been so sure of what you were doing. Alexia had always been your safe place. The person you were always comfortable crying in front of, the person you told your biggest fears too. Avoiding her meant avoiding feeling. 

You were the oldest, and with that came the responsibility to be strong. For your parents and your other siblings, you had to be the strong one. Alexia had heard from your sister, Bella, that you’d taken care of everything related to the funeral. You’d jumped head first into planning it, barely taking a second to greet your family before you were asking about flower arrangements and eulogies. Bella told Alexia that she hadn’t seen you shed a single tear. You were a shell of yourself, yes, but it was numbness that you radiated, not pain. Not the agony she was sure you were feeling. You had decided that you had to be strong for everyone else, and that meant not feeling any of it. That meant pushing down every emotion, no matter what it took. 

And if anyone understood that, it was Alexia. She had done the same thing when she’d lost her father; held everything together for her sister and her mother. She pretended she was fine. Alexia had held her sister as she cried, and helped her mother cook and clean and plan. She’d been the oldest, and she’d been strong too. 

Alexia had lasted a few weeks, pretending she was okay. Before every emotion she’d ignored spilled out and she broke. Completely and entirely broke. And she knew, very well, that you were headed for the same thing if you didn’t stop pushing everything down.

There wasn’t much she could do from hundreds of miles away, though, so she did her best to text and call you and remind you, every second of every day, that she loved you more than anything. And that she was only a phone call away. Even if you hadn’t been very receptive to these reminders, you’d noticed, and she knew you appreciated them.  

Now, though, sitting in the bustling airport, you were afraid to go home. Afraid to face your girlfriend, whom you’d been practically ignoring. Afraid to face the reality that was regular life without your brother. Afraid to face every dark and painful emotion you’d been ignoring. You pushed and pushed and pushed them away, until you couldn’t really even remember what it felt like to feel. You were numb. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay that way or not. 

What you did want, though, was Alexia. You wanted her to hold you, wanted to hear her heartbeat in your ear. Feel her kiss the top of your head, and scratch your back as you fell asleep. So, it was to Barcelona, to home, to Alexia, that you went, 5 full days before you were supposed to. You just needed to work up the guts to tell Alexia that you were coming home. 

------

Alexia made up her mind to fly to you half a dozen times, only to talk herself out of it. She had no idea how you were feeling, how you were doing, other than the very unsettling updates she’d gotten from your sister. She ached to hear your voice and feel your warm body pressed against hers; she was miserable. 

The team had just arrived at Johan for the midweek match when you finally did call her. Shushing everyone dramatically, Alexia rushed out of the room and answered. 

“Hi Ale.” 

“Mi amor.” She sighed, deeply relieved to hear the sound of your voice. You sounded numb and completely unlike yourself, but you were calling her all the same. 

“Hi.” You repeated, a bit weakly. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.” 

Alexia wanted to cry. Your brother's funeral had been today, and still you remembered to call her and wish her luck on a match she was a bit nervous for. “Thank you, amor. How are you? Are you sure I can’t come today after the match? You are there through this weekend, I want to be with you.” 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m at the airport right now, actually. I’ll be home tonight.” You admitted, nibbling on your lip anxiously. 

“You are coming home today? I thought you were going to stay with your family for a bit longer.” Alexia was thrilled, honestly, but still confused. 

“I was, but I changed my mind. It’s been crazy here, I just want to come home.” 

“Okay, amor. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. When do you land?”

“Right before the match ends. I’ll probably beat you home.” 

“I am excited to see you, bebe. I have missed you so much.” The captain told you gently, using the soft voice that she really only used with you. One that was dripping with love. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You whispered. “You have no idea.” 

“Soon though. Soon. I will come home straight after the game.” 

“Thank you, Alexia. For being so understanding and patient, I’m sorry I’ve been weird this week-”

“Do not apologize, please. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She paused, hearing shouts of her name coming from the other room. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon. So soon.” 

“Bye, Ale. I love you, good luck today.” 

After hanging up, Alexia knew she had to get her head in the game. There was a match to play, a team that needed her. And even if her heart was boarding a plane in England, getting ready to fly back to her, she had to focus. For the next few hours at least. 

------

Alexia was barely through the door before you were crashing into her arms, absolutely launching your body at hers. You were trembling, trying to contain the whine that came from deep in your throat at the feeling of being safe again. The blonde grabbed you fiercely, pulling you into her arms and squeezing tight. You were lifted off the ground briefly, but you barely even registered it, gripping the blonde’s sweatshirt tight in your fists and shoving your face into her shoulder. 

 Alexia had been trying not to be worried this whole time that you didn’t need her, didn’t want her. She knew, logically, why you were acting the way you had been, but she wasn’t immune to doubts and insecurity. Now, though, with you holding onto her for dear life, she knew she’d been ridiculous. 

“My girl. I’ve got you.” She whispered, feeling you nod into her chest. After a minute, Alexia eased you back and took your face in between her hands, trying to get a good look at your face. You looked like you’d lost weight, and like you hadn’t slept in days. Your eyes were cloudy, gazing up at Alexia like you barely knew she was there. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with you now that she had you back with her. You looked so unlike yourself, so out of it. Alexia didn't think she could get anymore worried, but that was before she’d seen you. 

You weren’t crying, just shaking. Just holding onto Alexia like you were afraid if you let go, she’d disappear. 

“I saw your goal.” You said after a minute. 

Alexia smiled gently at you, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “It was for you, and for Wesley.”

You flinched at your brother’s name. At the reminder of what had happened. Any minute you could go without thinking about it was a victory, but when you inevitably remembered, it felt like the weight of the world settled back on your shoulders. 

And it was this weight that prompted what you said next. 

“I think we should take a break.” You said blankly, avoiding the midfielder’s eyes at all cost. 

Alexia was stunned into silence for a minute. A different day, a different Alexia, and she would have shut down. Taken your statement as rejection, and left the apartment without another word. But everything about your body language was screaming to her that you didn't mean it. Still gripping her shirt tightly in your hands, still trembling in her arms, you seemed terrified to allow your girlfriend to help you, and terrified to allow her to go. 

“No.” Alexia said simply. 

“Ale, I can’t do this. I have to deal with this, I don’t- I can’t. Everything is so messed up now. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t put you through this, too. I can’t make you figure this out with me. We should just take a few weeks apart, so I can pull myself together, and you don’t have to worry-”

“Stop. No. You are not putting me through anything. I am committed to you, I love you, and I am not going anywhere. Especially not now. If you think I am going to let you go through this alone, you are crazy. You need me, how could I go?” 

“I… I don’t need you.” You said weakly, as if you hadn’t tackled her in a hug the moment you saw her, as if you weren’t inching closer to her every passing second, like the small amount of space in between the two of you was too much.

“You do. And I know that is scary, but I am not leaving. Let me be here. Please.” 

“I’m not… I’m not okay.” It was barely more than a mumble, but Alexia nodded sympathetically. 

“You are not okay. You don’t need to protect me from that, amor. I can be strong for the both of us. I can be whatever you need me to be.” 

A small whimper fell from your lips before you could stop it. There wasn’t any fight left in you, now, not when Alexia was saying all the right things.  “You’re sure?” 

Alexia pulled you in once more, and tucked your head under her chin. “I am sure.” 

“Okay.” You allowed, leaning back after a moment to place a very gentle kiss on your girlfriend’s cheek. 

Taking your face into her hands, Alexia frowned, her thumb tracing over the dark circles under your eyes. You looked shattered, drained completely of energy. “Amor…” 

“Can we go to sleep, Ale? I’m really tired.” 

Alexia could tell. “Of course. Did you not sleep well while you were gone?” 

“No.” You sighed, before hesitantly continuing. “I barely slept, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to now, but I always sleep better next to you, but I don’t know if you’re tired…”

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Whatever you need, amor. You have to eat something first, though.” 

You looked away from her. “I ate at the airport.” 

Alexia hummed, a sinking feeling growing in her chest. “No you didn’t. Do you want to shower while I make you something?” 

You nodded begrudgingly, and Alexia kissed you on the cheek before sending you on your way. 

Dinner was a quiet affair. You came out of the shower looking just as you had before. Numb, broken. Alexia had made your favorite for dinner, and you ate as much as you could, which really, wasn’t much at all. The blonde was just glad to get some food into you. You didn’t really remember Alexia pulling you into the bedroom, or tugging on pajamas that were definitely hers. Suddenly, you were in your bed, head resting against Alexia’s chest, her heartbeat steady in your ear. Suddenly, you were safe again. Safe to feel, safe to hurt. You’d just spent so much time not doing either of those things, that you weren’t really sure how to access the emotions you’d spent days repressing. All you knew was that you didn’t want Alexia to ever let you go. 

“Mi amor, do you want to talk?” Her chest vibrated under you as you spoke. 

“About what?”

“How you are feeling?”

“I’m… coping.” You told her weakly. Alexia’s hand found its way into your hair, carefully running through the wet strands. You sighed quietly, snuggling in closer to your girlfriend, even as you knew she was pushing you to have a conversation you didn't really want to partake in. 

“I do not think you are. I talked to your sister, she is worried about you. I am too. Please, just talk to me.” 

You turned slightly, hiding your face more in Alexia’s shirt. “I don’t know what to say, Ale. I don’t know where to start.” 

She hummed sympathetically. “Can I ask you questions? Would that be easier?” 

And you didn’t want to answer questions, but you knew it was best if you opened up to Alexia, even if it was just a little, so you nodded. 

“How was your flight?” She asked. You cracked a smile at her question, clocking that she was starting off simple to ease you into talking to her. She knew you so well, sometimes it felt like she knew you better than you knew yourself. 

“Alright. I slept for most of it, but I watched some of the match.”  

For the next few minutes, Alexia asked questions about your trip, about your sister’s new haircut that you hated. You wilted slightly when she asked about your other brother, and she picked up on that right away.

“Why did you come home so early?” She wondered. You inhaled deeply, rolling off of her and onto your back. You stared at the ceiling, knowing that the truth would make her angry. Not at you, but angry nonetheless, and you didn’t want that. 

“I missed you a lot.” You murmured, refusing to look her in the eye, even as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow facing you. 

“I missed you, too. Every second you were gone.” She promised, gently removing a stray eyelash from the side of your face and holding it out for you to blow away. It was an adorable habit she had, always insisting you make a wish. “There is more, though.”

There was no question in Alexia’s words and you sighed again, nodding slowly. “I got into an argument with Bennett. About Wes. We weren’t really speaking to each other after the funeral and it was so tense in the house, I just had to get out of there.” 

“What did you fight about?” 

A tear slid down your face as you shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, please.” 

“Okay bebé.” Alexia wiped the tear away with her thumb, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your eye, as if to soothe your tears. She pulled the covers of the bed higher, desperately trying to make you more comfortable as you suddenly looked to be in agonizing pain. “Did your parents and your sister choose sides?” 

Alexia knew your family well enough to know how an argument would go. Normally, your sister and your brother would easily agree with your parents, regardless of the topic. And your parents always took their side. Bella and Bennett were twins, the golden children, and it was clear for anyone to see that your parents treated them differently. Without Wes around to mediate, Alexia was sure that you would have been all alone in whatever you were fighting about, and she knew how much you despised conflict. 

Bottom lip wobbling pathetically, you nodded. “Yeah. They all agreed with Ben. None of them… none of them were really talking to me when I left. Bella felt bad, but my parents didn’t say goodbye when I left for the airport.” 

The midfielders stomach twisted at that, knowing how desperately you sought your parents praise and approval. For them to let you fly back across the continent without even a goodbye, after losing their son, after you lost your brother, was cruel. “I am so sorry, amor. That isn’t fair.” 

“I feel like everyone is mad at me.” You whispered, linking your fingers with Alexia’s. 

“I am not mad at you.” Alexia replied, leaning in against to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You are my favorite person in the world, and I am not mad at you. Does that feel better?” 

“Yeah.” You told her, finally shifting to look up at her face. Another few tears slipped down your face and you took a shaky breath. “I want this to all be some horrible nightmare. I want to wake up and find out he’s still here. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” 

“What do you feel?” Alexia asked again, still not letting a single tear make it off your face before she swiped it away. 

This time, you answered her. 

“Everything hurts.” 

“I know.” She whispered, doing her best to pull you closer into her body. 

“I feel like… like I'm broken. Like I'm suffocating. Like I will never feel whole again. I am empty. And I am so fucking sad but I can’t feel it. I can’t make myself feel it. It’s there, locked away, and all I can do is sit. And think. And wish I was dead instead of him.” The last sentence was barely audible, but Alexia heard it clearly. 

She shut her eyes tightly, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if that would make it better. “Please do not say that.” 

“He called me. That night, he called me and I declined the call. Because we had a match the next day. And now he's dead, and it is my fault.” You admitted, feeling simultaneously like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at your confession, but another weight added on with the knowledge that your girlfriend would not know exactly what kind of awful person you were. 

But Alexia was Alexia, and she didn’t even flinch at your words. She simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said the words you’d been aching to hear. Words you wanted to believe, words you were scared you never would. “You could not have known, that is not your fault.”

You looked up at her, trying to gauge the sincerity of what she was saying, and found only overwhelming love in her eyes. It was too much. It was love you didn’t deserve. Not when this was your fault. You had never been more convinced in your life than in that moment that you didn't’ deserve Alexia. Her love, her care, her affection, her perfection. She was wholly too good for you. “I don’t even know how you can look at me right now, Ale.”

Your girlfriend shook her head, stunned that you would think such a thing. That you would expect her to blame you for something that was not your fault. Her touch was delicate as she pushed a lock of hair away from your forehead and it was too kind. Too soft. 

You yanked yourself out of her arms, even if it felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest in doing so. With no destination in mind, you walked away from the bed and tried to leave the room, but Alexia grabbed you first. 

“My love.” She murmured, drawing you into a tight embrace. Alexia very rarely used terms of endearment for you that weren’t in spanish. She only did so when she wanted you to hear what she was saying, clearly. Her hands were insistent on your face, tilting it up so that you could only look into her warm hazel eyes. There was nothing but adoration on her face, and you were sure you didn’t deserve it.  “I can look at you because I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you. What happened is not your fault.” 

You shook your head pathetically, but your movements were stilled by Alexia’s strong hands on either side of your face. 

“It is not your fault.” She insisted. “And I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now, but I will always be kind to you. Even when you are not being kind to yourself.”

You shut your eyes tightly, desperately trying not to cry. Pitching forward, you pressed your face into Ale’s chest, unable to resist the peace and comfort that she provided. She shushed you softly, raining kisses down onto the top of your head. 

“It hurts, Ale,” you whimpered. 

Alexia held you tighter.

“I know, bebé. This is so hard, mi amor, I know that. But you will get through this. We will get through this together. I will not leave your side for a single second, do you understand? I love you. You are going to be okay.” 

Without even being aware that Alexia was moving you, you suddenly found yourself back on the bed, sitting sideways across your girlfriend’s lap. She was always so gentle. So kind. And you didn’t deserve it, you knew that. But the thought of having to go through this without her was overwhelming, devastating. You fought against the urge to cry, terrified that if you let go, she would leave. 

“I can’t do this without you,” you whimpered, holding tightly to her shirt and pressing your face into her neck. You could feel her nod from there, and you settled a bit, especially as her grip on you was tight and unrelenting. 

“You will not have to. I am here with you, mi amor. Right here with you.” She promised, shifting to wrap one arm around your midsection and cradle the back of your head with her other hand. 

“I-I… I can’t,” you stuttered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat even as it constricted tighter and tighter and you knew your efforts would be futile. 

“It is alright, bebé. You can cry. I am right here.” She affirmed again. 

A choked sob fell from your lips as you finally gave in, as the tidal wave of emotion you’d been running from finally caught up to you. It dragged you under the surface over and over, until you could hardly breathe. Until there was nothing else in the room with you but despair. 

You cried for your brother, for who he was and who he would never become. 

For yourself. Because you didn’t answer the phone, but also because you knew deep in your soul that answering would not have changed anything. 

You cried for your siblings, for your parents. Who were so destroyed that they sought out something, someone to blame. Even though they landed on you, even though you needed them. They needed you, but differently. They needed to blame you. It had to be your fault, or it might be theirs. 

You cried for Alexia, because you knew you had put her through hell the past week, and it would only continue. You cried because she was perfect and because you loved her. You cried because she loved you. 

You cried for the first time since hearing about what had happened. You cried for sweet, sweet Wes, who deserved better from everyone in his life. You included, but not only you. 

You cried because it felt like a part of you was dead, too. 

The part that was still alive, though, forced you to listen. To Alexia’s steady heartbeat, and the soft words she whispered. To her reminders to breathe, and her reminders that she loved you. If what you were feeling was a tsunami, Alexia was the high ground that would keep you safe. Keep you alive. 

You clung to that safety, that security. Without her, you might have drifted off. Not to sleep, but away. You’d never have to find out, though. Because Alexia wasn’t going anywhere. Not when you cried, not when you couldn’t breathe, not when you couldn’t speak. She’d bring you back to her every time. Because she loved you. And it didn't matter that you weren’t sure you were deserving of her love. She loved you anyway. 

Once your cries had slowed to pitiful sniffles, the midfielder laid you down carefully next to her, curling her body around yours. You were engulfed in her arms, and the soft blankets on the bed, a safe little cocoon. Alexia couldn’t tell if your eyes were half shut because they were swollen from crying, or if you were exhausted. Probably both. 

Her finger traced little shapes over your cheek as she whispered to you. “Sleep mi amor. I’ve got you. You are safe, and you are okay. Just relax.” 

Her eyes were locked on yours, encouraging you to give in and let yourself rest. Her words, too, felt like a very convincing drug, and you were letting your cheek rest against her chest before you knew it, letting the repetitive beating of her heart lull you to sleep. 

-----

You slept solidly, for the first time in a week. Straight through the night, no interruptions. Well, until morning came, and then you were awoken by quiet crunching. You stretched a bit, not yet ready to open your eyes, but aware from the amount of sun in the room that it was late morning. The crunching stopped as soon as you moved, and you quickly realized you were not curled up against your girlfriend, like you normally slept. Rolling over, you squinted your eyes open and saw Alexia looking guilty down at you, a handful of granola in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. 

“Sorry.” She whispered. 

It wasn’t really that funny, but you found yourself giggling to yourself, until Alexia started laughing with you. 

“You had to get the crunchiest thing in the kitchen?” You questioned, barely getting the words out through your laughter.. She shook her head at you, putting the bag of granola down and pulling you into her arms. 

“I was going for what would leave the most crumbs in the sheets.” She said cheerily, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“You are so dumb.” You chuckled, sighing comfortably back in her embrace. 

“I am smart.” Alexia declared, before she turned slightly serious. “You can sleep more if you need, bonita. It is 11:30, but we do not have anything we need to do today.” 

“No, it’s okay. I should get up.” 

“Thank god. I am starving and you make better breakfast than I do.” 

You fought a smile, finding the effort she was putting in to make you laugh quite endearing. “You could have woken me if you were hungry. Or gone and gotten something to eat.” Your attempt to slide out of bed was halted by Alexia’s grip tightening around you, her voice soft in your ear. 

“No, you needed to rest. And you were holding on to me in your sleep. I did not want to leave you for long.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no apologies. You need me, I am here. If you need me to lay in bed and cuddle you for half the day, I am more than happy to do that.” She said it so earnestly, you almost felt like crying. 

“Ale, you know I love you, right? More than anything?” 

She nodded, shifting you in her arms to be able to press her forehead to yours. “And I love you. More than all the stars in the sky.” 

You gave her a watery smile, gently pecking her lips with yours. “That is very corny.” 

“There are no ways to tell you how I love you without being corny. You will just have to get used to it.” Alexia whispered, connecting her lips with yours again. It was soft and loving, reflecting everything she’d just said to you. Alexia always made sure to tell you what she felt about you, as well as show you. She was perfect in that way. 

-----

Your words from the previous evening hung between you both like a dark cloud. Alexia was doing her best to treat you normally, you could tell. She didn’t want to hover, but she was filled to the brim with worry for you. So, you took the first step, and brought it up while the two of you were making breakfast.

Clearing your throat, you focused on carefully cutting up the fruit, sure that if you kept yourself slightly distracted, you wouldn’t get too upset.“Last night. What I said…” 

“What did you say?” Alexia asked casually, though you could feel her eyes burning into the back of your head from the opposite counter.  

“I said that I wished I-”

“I remember.” Alexia cut you off not unkindly, abandoning the coffee she was making in favor of walking to you and wrapping her arms around your abdomen. Her chin perched itself on your shoulder, and you leaned back into her, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

“I didn’t mean it.” You told her. Her silence told you she was skeptical, and she should have been. “Okay, I did mean it. But I would never do anything stupid, okay? I would never… do what he did. I am upset and I am hurting but I know… know that I can be okay again. I think.” 

All the tension left your girlfriend’s body, and you were only aware of how stressed she had been once she relaxed. She sagged into you, burying her face in the crook of your neck and nodding rapidly. “Good. Good. I love you. So much.” You moved to return to chopping your fruit, but the blonde took the knife from your hand and set it down, before spinning you to face her. She was completely serious as she addressed you. “If you ever felt like that,” 

“Alexia, I am not going to...” You let the sentence fade out, inhaling deeply again before you continued. “I wouldn’t do that to you, or to my family, I wouldn’t be that-” 

You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Alexia didn’t let you pull out of her grasp like you wanted to, studying your face closely. 

“You are angry with him, sí?” Alexia asked carefully. She was too perceptive for her own good sometimes. 

“Yeah.” Admitting it felt like a betrayal. 

“That is okay. You can be angry.” 

You weren’t convinced and Alexia ached to make you understand that your feelings, whatever they were, were valid. Still, she knew when to push and when not to, so she let it go. For now.

With a soft kiss on your lips, she nudged you back to the fruit, whining dramatically that she was hungry. Alexia could always make a situation light hearted again with just a few words, and that was something you realized you hadn’t appreciated enough until now. 

-----

Alexia’s brain hurt from thinking. Around and around in circles, wishing she could convince herself she was wrong about the conclusion she had come to. You were sitting in between her legs on the couch, half watching the football match on TV, half enjoying the way Alexia’s fingers played with your hair. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight you’d said you had with your brother, and what it could have been about. How bad it could have been for you to leave home early, for your parents not to be speaking to you, especially after everything that had happened. Alexia thought and thought and thought until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then she just asked. 

“Can I ask you something?” The blonde murmured, finishing the braid she was twisting your hair into, only to take it out and start again. 

Her hands playing with your hair was ridiculously soothing, and you only hummed in response.

“The fight with your brother? Was that about Wes calling you that night?” 

All the work Alexia had done to get your body to relax was undone as soon as the words left her mouth. Your shoulders scrunched back up, and you went back to picking at your cuticles. You’d already made a few nails bleed this morning, and your girlfriend sighed internally as you another one began to bleed, too. 

“Yes. I didn’t tell them right away, but my dad went through Wes’ phone and that was the last call he made.” Your voice broke, and Alexia abandoned your hair in favor of pulling you into her, your back to her front. “He asked me about it, and Ben just… freaked out.” 

“What did Bennett say?” She wondered, pulling each of your hands into hers in an effort to stop the damage you were inflicting on your nails. 

“He said I should have answered. That is wasn’t enough that I left the country for football, left Wes behind, but I ignored his call even though family is supposed to be the most important thing. And that he blames me. He said that if I had answered, Wes would be alive.” 

“What did your parents say?” 

“They agreed with Ben. Said I shouldn’t come home until I decide to start putting my family first. My dad said…” Again, you trailed off. This time, it was because you weren’t sure you had the strength to repeat what had been said to you. 

“Tell me, baby.” Alexia encouraged, hoping that if she held you tight enough, the pain would leave you alone for a while. 

“He said it was my fault his son was dead, and if there was any justice in the world it would have been me instead.” You whispered, Alexia’s sharp intake of air closely mirroring what your reaction had been. “I moved my flight after that. I still had to go to the funeral, but I wanted to leave as soon as I could.” 

It was overwhelming, everything your girlfriend was feeling, and she couldn’t even imagine the turmoil you were in at the moment. The urge to call your father and give him a piece of her mind was almost as strong as the urge to wrap you up in a blanket against her and never let anyone hurt you again. Almost. 

“Mi preciosa, he is wrong. That is not true. Your brother never would have wanted you to blame yourself. He loved you so much, and he knew you loved him too. He would be angry if he knew how everyone was treating you. Amor, you know this, right?” 

Your shrug was not good enough for Alexia.

“This was not your fault. It is not on you. You are a good person, and an incredible sister. Your parents and Bennett, they are hurting, but they should not have said the things they have said.  It hurts them that this happened out of their control, and they just want someone to blame. It is not fair that it is you, amor, but they are wrong. They are so, so wrong.” 

“I want to believe that.” You replied, hanging onto her every word even if it felt like everything she was saying was much too generous to you. “I just don’t know how to.” 

Alexia nodded, her lips finding your cheek in a gentle peck. “I will remind you every day, until you believe it. You are good, you are loved, and this was not your fault.” She repeated herself, and you shut your eyes, trying to force the reassurances to seep into your brain, and hopefully stay there. 

When you opened your eyes again, turning slightly so you could see her face, you believed her just a bit more. Bit by bit, Alexia would convince you. Just like she’d convinced you that she loved you. Like she’d convinced you to let her start putting some of her clothes in your half of the closet, and that cappuccinos were better than lattes.  She was persuasive, your Alexia. Unrelenting, determined, and persuasive. When she set her mind on something, she didn’t give up. It was this tendency of hers that had you almost convinced that you’d survive this. Even if it was the hardest thing you’d ever do, Alexia would get you through it. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” You murmured, looking up at her with something close to awe on your face. 

“You did not have to do anything. I love you. You deserve to be loved.” Alexia replied easily. She didn’t think twice before she spoke. It wouldn’t ever not surprise you how easily, how fully, Alexia loved you, and that was okay. You never wanted Alexia’s love to grow mundane, or unsurprising. You wanted the force of her love to always knock you off your feet, just a little. Because you were pretty sure the force of your love for her would always be overpowering, too. 

-------

this was so dialogue heavy and im not sure i don't think it's awful and too depressing, so thanks for sticking around to the end if you did :)

not... opposed to a part 2 honestly. i have a little part written about alexia trying to deal with r's grief, while also finding it to be such a harsh reminder of her own experience. but i'm not sure what else it would be, or if anyone would want it anyway so. give me your thoughts :)

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[venuzasmuse]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐞. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

— the holidays are meant to be festive, free of heartache and solemnity, but odds are forever not in your favor as you spend the holidays with your best friend alongside her sister, that broke your heart.

[rockstar!ellie au, best friend’s sister!ellie, kinda mean!ellie (for a few parts of the story)]

previous, next

warnings: reader is afab, not proofread, mature language, mentions of substance abuse (drugs), ellies a dick in this chapter srry guys, WHOLE LOTTA ANGST. smut & fluff in later chapters. POC FRIENDLY !!

this chapters kinda long because it’s still introducing the reader & ellie’s relationship dynamic so bare with me pls pls pls

upon arriving in texas, a wave of nostalgia washes over you as you peered over the horizons of the buzzing city streets.

the traffic was still— as long as you could remember— terrible. pedestrians raided the roads as if they had enough lives for the people on it and tenfold. you can recount the amount of days you'd be late for school because your brother, simon, took obnoxiously long in the bathroom. you could almost still smell his putrid sauvage cologne from here. the strong scent filling your senses— your head spun nauseatingly so.

you grapple with the map in your hand, flipping it every which way trying to give yourself a sense of reassurance as you and sarah navigated through the intersections. you loved your best friend but you couldn't sugarcoat the fact that her love for detours affected her driving skills poorly.

she'd listen to her gps for the first few hours and eventually get fed up with the alterations that emitted from the older device, completely tossing the given routes out of the window and using her intuition as a sense of direction instead.

"jesus, has texas always been this confusing?" the blonde exasperated, a heavy hand coming down to the steering wheel as a blare emitted from the vehicle.

you shoot her a glare that goes unnoticed and the car jerks as she overpasses the poor old lady in front of her.

"does it hurt you to have any patience?" you groan out. you slump in your seat and throw your head back against the headrest tiredly.

"patience never did anyone any good before." she declares sheepishly, a playful smile spreading across her pretty face.

your head lolls to the side to face the side of her head and you give her a playful eye roll.

"i swear to God, if we ever get caught in a drive by, i'd never let you live it down. even in hell."

she laughs a throaty laugh. sarah grabs your hand giving it a squeeze and shake, her demeanor excited.

"come on! don't be so grim. aren't you excited to be going back home? i mean it's been years." she switches to another lane, eyes trained on the rear view. "my dad is super excited to have you back. he said you're welcome as long as you need to be."

"that's only because we never gave him a choice before." you prompt. the two of you giggle.

"you know what i mean. i'm so hungry— maybe we can hit up mel's diner when we get there. i'd kill for their cheeseburgers right now."

you glance at the gps. "2 1/2 hours left" before y'all were to reach your destination. you groan, pulling your hat down to shield your face away from the blaring sun beaming down on your skin.

you'd be lying if you said that you had gotten any shut eye the night before. too plagued with overthinking, the dead of the night was filled with the sound of tossing and turning as you fought against yourself at an amateur attempt to soothe your own nerves.

trepidation dripped down your soul. you weren't sure how finally seeing ellie again for the first time would enfold. you had a plan to simply just avoid her but you knew you probably weren't going to keep up with that very long.

ellie was persistent and if she had any plan to resolve things, it wouldn't go unnoticed by a long shot. no matter how hard you tried to steer clear of it.

sarah knew about the reason why the two of you broke up. she was sympathetic enough to take your feelings about seeing her sister again after 2 and half dreadful years.

she witnessed first hand the aftermath of what ellie did to you. a brutal 9 nine months of you trying to build yourself high enough on a pedestal to be able to move on completely. she listened to you every step of the way, her ears open and her arms empathetic with every tear shed.

it was even worse when the media coverage began getting ahold of their band. 7 months after you and ellie had stopped talking completely due to your nasty breakup, her band rose to stardom and you could still remember how much dread washed over you to hear the sound of her playing on the radio for the first time.

you avoided her, in every way you could. if that meant no music for months until the hype of her album died down even just a little bit, then so be it.

but the limelight wasn't always as glamorous. you alongside of her family, despite not having heard from her in years, knew about how she'd been living because once the tabloids got a hold of her, the only thing plaguing the media coverage was about ellie.

who she was spotted with, newly sparked dating rumors as she was seen with a different girl nearly every month, and even the downfall of her newly acquired fame.

in pure janis joplin fashion, the height of her success came crashing down as people started suspecting ellie to be abusing drugs. it started when people began to notice how blasted she was in a few interviews. her nodding off didn't go unnoticed by a long shot.

in the spotlight, instances like this weren't uncommon.

you watch a talented person rise to the top, their talent evident as day as they showed it off to the word come plummeting down in a wave of wasted potential due to drugs and or alcohol. it was tragic and despite being as angry as you were with her, seeing the girl you grew up with live the way she was, created a moggy feeling in your chest.

eventually, the band made an announcement that their tour would've had to gone on a break due to "complications" but you and everyone else knew it was because ellie was in rehab.

as soon as she was discharged, the ongoing scarcity of contact between her and her family came to a brusque halt when joel offered for his daughter to come back home, at least until she was ready enough to face her new life again.

so when you found out that she'd be spending christmas with y'all, there was no doubt in your mind you'd have to brace yourself for whatever outcome would emerge from it.

"i'm gonna try and get some sleep. we still have a long way to go."

sarah boos at your resignation, exclaiming a few declarations about how you're leaving her to die of boredom. "you suck!"

you don't respond, simply smiling and turning your head as you're inevitably wisked away into a state of slumber.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

a somber tune draws out a melancholic melody on your record player, filling the corners of your cavernous room. the night breathes life through a soft breeze that grazes past your curtains. yet, as the sun sets and the cicadas begin to shriek, no amount of words in the english language can drown out the bitterness that sits in the pit of your chest.

no amount of rephrasing could rewrite the sorrow that consumes you whole, in this moment or the next.

you sit with the grief as your gaze lingers on the girl in front of you. ellie sits on the edge of your bed. she's faced away from you, as always, as she stares ahead at the neon lights that seep through the crevices of your room.

clouds of smoke forms around her figure with practiced cinematic effort and your eyes take her in with taut admiration.

you usually dread when the room grows quiet like this. the silence is blinding and tension is permeated in your walls. it leaves you high and dry and guts you with cynicism.

you wait for the moment for her to slip back into bed with you but it never comes. the thought of not being the placeholder of such intimacy rings in your ears like a bad case of tinnitus.

at least not this time around.

you sit up crawling towards her in desperate attempt to get her to look at you. you wrap your arms around her neck, resting your chin on her bare shoulder. empty viridescent eyes scan your face yet you can't seem to deconstruct any love tucked away behind them.

you knew deep down that what once existed fondly between the two of you was stripped away, little to nothing— a scarce void of recognition.

“what’s going on?” you hum out lovingly, as you press a prolonged kiss to her shoulder. “been quiet all night.”

the auburn headed girl heaved out a sigh as she dropped her head in her hands. she braced herself to face you, taking your wrists in her callused palms as she brought your hands to her mouth, pecking the backs tenderly.

“i.. i think we should talk.” she finally vocalizes. the words shoot fear down your spine, goosebumps arising were her lips once resided.

“about what?”

she gives you a look as she turns her body to face you, straightening her back a little bit more. “so you know how i’ve been getting to practice with the band lately? because their guitarist ended up quitting?”

you watched her for a moment skeptically before nodding.

her words are caught in her throat momentarily as she looks down once more. “well, cat and them asked me to join their band.” a glimmer of gleam passes across her face as she breathes out a breath she was holding.

you furrow your brows, a smile breaking onto your face. “that’s great! i’m so happy for you!” you exclaim, grabbing her chin in between your finger to press a proud kiss onto her cheek.

you knew how long ellie had wanted to be apart of something like this. after years of supporting her, you were filled to the brim with joy that she was finally reaching a steppingstone to where she wanted to be in life.

yet, you could tell something was still bothering her as she tensed up in your embrace. “well, they offered me to join but..”

“but..” you trail, eyes still held with hope.

“cat said she knew someone in los angeles that knew someone that could get us signed to a record label. the only downside is we’d have to move over there.”

your face fell as her words fell on sensitive ears.

“move?” you let out a nervous chuckle. “but.. los angeles is across the country.”

capturing her bottom lip in between her teeth, you watch as she gnaws down on it regrettably.

of course, you were elated for her. over the moon.

hell, you would’ve done anything for ellie to make this happen for her, one way or another. but hearing the catch of finally being able to pursue her dreams had you feeling selfishly opposed to the idea.

surely, she wouldn’t have made such a rash decision without taking it up with you first. ya’ll had so many plans that were already set in stone. all you wanted was at least a heads up if they were going to be altered to accustom to ellie’s new schedule pertaining to her band.

“so, what did you say?” your tone faltering from ecstatic to one that could’ve fell on deaf ears if not attentive enough.

“i said yes. i agreed that i’d go with them.” her word vomit rushes out like a fountain and your hands drop from her face as you turn away from her in shock. she grabs your smaller face in her hands, as she tips her head down to meet your avoidant gaze. you shut your eyes, muttering out a “shit” as you felt the pathetic rush of tears burn at the back of your eyelids.

“baby, i couldn’t pass this up. this is my chance to finally get out of this town. i’ve wanted this for so long.” she pleads, dropping down to her knees in front of you.

“why didn’t you wait to at least talk to me about it, ellie? three months ago, we were just planning on moving in together! and what? now you’re just about to dismiss any say that i had in this?”

she lets out an exasperated sigh of defeat as she bargains with her response.

“this is about my future! this is something i’ve wanted for years!” she encompasses her bottom lip back in between her teeth, scavenging her scattered brain to make this situation better.

“you can come with me! didn’t you always tell me you’d follow me anywhere?”

you scoff, shaking your head. “i can’t just pack up my things and run away to los angeles like this with you. it’s expensive there and with the money we have saved up, we wouldn’t last a year in a place like that with just the two of us. we’d need more time.”

don’t cry. don’t cry. you think to yourself as you feel the waterworks begin to churn.

“we could figure it out! cat mentioned a bunch of-”

you scoff at the mention of the girl’s name as you stood up from your place on the bed, walking over towards your window as you dug your fingers through your unkempt hair.

“i can’t believe you made a decision about this with cat before you even mentioned it to me. i should’ve known it was deeper than that.”

ellie stops in her tracks, an expression of hurt painted across her face at the idea of you believing she had concealed intentions between her and cat. but could you really blame yourself ? it would’ve been hard on any girl to see that her significant other’s time was consumed by another girl. especially with the considerable amount of times they spent alone together.

you would’ve been a fool to not suspect anything at all but your love for ellie ran too deep; you didn’t think you could handle it if you lost her to another girl. so you kept quiet, giving her the benefit of the doubt and begged venus herself for the girl to not prove you right.

“it was never deeper than anything.” her tone was stilled as she stared at you with accusatory.

“can you blame me ellie? i mean seriously. you’ve been alone with her more in these past few months than you’ve even talked to me! some days, i don’t even hear from you at all because you’re with her!” your voice goes up an octave as tears begin to spill from your eyes.

“it’s because of—”

“what? the band?” you cut her off, not wanting to hear her myriad of excuses. “i see the way you look at her. you look at her like she’s the only thing you see.” you brush past her to grab your shirt, pulling it over your head hastily.

“the lingering looks, the canceled plans, the way you never tell her to stop fucking holding onto your arms the way she fucking does!” bitterness begins to overpower the solemnity paying homage to the pit of your heaving chest as you jostle her scroll of excuses back to her.

“i mean, god, ellie. has it ever occurred to you that you still have obligations to set boundaries in this relationship?” your tone is constraint from going back to normal.

“are you fucking serious?” she snaps, the pitch of her voice blending with yours in a chaotic cacophony. “i’m trying to tell you about how big of a deal this band is to me, trying to make up solutions, and you’re accusing me of leaving for fucking cat?”

“i mean it was her idea, wasn’t it?” you countered. you were at your breaking point with ellie. you felt like nothing you said would ever change her perspective so you gave up.

you no longer wanted to fight for someone that couldn’t care to think twice about how their actions inflicted hurt on you.

maybe this wasn’t about her leaving anymore. instead, as the conversation became more clear, the realization settled when you realized you were losing her.

“i’m not doing this with you.” you watch as ellie gathered her things in fit of rage, throwing on her flannel and slipping her feet back into her converses as grabbed her bag, ready to walk out.

a feeling of dread quickly dissipates all of the fury you momentarily had as you rush towards her, wanting to resolve this before the two of you went to bed upset.

“ellie. come on, please.” you grab her face, pleading with eager eyes for her to not leave when things began to get bad.

you knew your girlfriend was stubborn. often alternating between fight or flight when reality began to corner her. but you knew, this time was different. no matter what the two of you chose to do, it would change the trajectory of your lives together.

she avoids your eyes and you feel the warmth cascade down your face heavily. “don’t walk out on me. please. not like this.”

she finally looks at you and it’s hard to read her.

“i need to do this for me. not for anyone else. i’m not going to wait for you to change your mind if some ulterior motive you think i have will always be in the backside of your mind.” she asserted, planted in her obstinance.

“if you leave now, i’m not gonna wait for you to come back.”

her eyes scanned your own down to your lips back to your eyes before grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from her.

“that’s up to you.” was the last thing she said as she turned to walk out of your empty house. the moment you heard the door slam shut, you dropped to your knees as the tears began to pour.

if there was one thing ellie was good at, it was keeping her word. ever since the the two of you were puny little teenagers, she still managed to keep ahold of all of her promises, even the smallest most frivolous ones.

it was something you loved about her because it showed her resilience and firmness. her ability to stand her ground. but as you sit with your hot head in your hands against the comfort of your bed that still smelled like her, you wished so desperately that the one quality you admired so much, wasn’t something she attained.

you knew there was no use in trying to change her mind or waiting for her to. she was set in her ways and held no exemptions, not even for you.

it was a thick pill to swallow but you knew, the moment she walked out that door, it was over.

the next few days were filled with no contact. your phone was sparse of any calls or messages except for one from your mother asking you to defrost the chicken or the occasional check up from your friends when they learned about what happened.

your room was a ghost town. her presence haunting you as a constant reminder in every corner. you couldn’t run away from her even if you wanted to.

you wished you were stronger in your ways. it would’ve saved you your dignity if you were prideful but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to be. you were the worst at staying mad— just wanting to fix things with your girl.

you even racked up some ideas about how ya’ll could make this arrangement work in a heap of desperation.

so when you rendered yourself enough courage to face the situation at hand, you made your way over to her house. you were hopeful that she wasn’t completely set in throwing it all away.

but when you reached her front door, all you were met with was a note that joel gave you that was left to him by ellie. his eye bags were deep showcasing his worry and lack of sleep and you saw a few more grey tendrils in his salt and pepper hair.

ellie had left a few mornings after the fight between the two of you. she left no trace of her behind to be gotten ahold of and you, joel, or sarah hadn’t heard from her since.

taglist: @bready101 @st4r-b3rries @vqxen

[boyfhee]

ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again. 

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it. 

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister. 

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait. 

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you. 

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks. 

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away. 

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,” 

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night. 

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two. 

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts. 

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips. 

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension. 

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer. 

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms. 

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee. 

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips. 

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you. 

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing. 

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while. 

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out. 

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it. 

noh chaeun  4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke. 

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys. 

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh. 

sunghoon  4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful  for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out. 

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything. 

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock. 

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?” 

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. ) 

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice. 

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay. 

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones. 

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you. 

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep. 

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain. 

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked. 

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,” 

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,” 

“are you high?” 

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course. 

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed. 

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck. 

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck. 

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down. 

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot. 

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up. 

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief. 

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT 

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,” 

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries. 

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat. 

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?” 

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room. 

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered. 

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light. 

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow. 

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his. 

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips. 

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently. 

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin. 

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire. 

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again. 

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,” 

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness. 

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room. 

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—” 

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response. 

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch. 

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out. 

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question. 

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply. 

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands. 

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it. 

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips. 

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of. 

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you. 

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed. 

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it. 

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him. 

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things

[azsazz]

Tell Me I'm Your Midnight

Kinktober Day 13: Cassian x Reader [Virgin!Reader]

Summary: In the middle of the night in the middle of your thoughts, you want a distraction.

Warnings: Smut, descriptions of death,

Word Count: 3350

Notes: Yeesh, bout time I hopped back on these...OOF Cassian how i've missed you big boy 💙💙💙

_________________________________________

The moonlight spilling in through the open doors of your balcony does nothing to settle the aching in your chest. From your place in bed, you watch the stars sparkle in the blackness of night. The gentle and cool breeze makes your curtains sway, and the moon is so bright in the sky that you can make out the shapes of every piece of furniture in your room, the silhouette of the Starfall dress wrapped tightly around the figurine in the shape of your body. 

Cerridwen and Naula had been so very eager to show you what they came up with for Starfall and the dress had brought you to tears—your first glimpse of the deep navy fabric draped elegantly across the bodice of the dummy had the tears you’ve been desperately trying to shove inside of you for months spilling over. You had collapsed into a puddle of emotion on the floor like you aren’t the High Lord’s sister, but the sight of your mother’s Starfall dress from last year reworked to fit your body made the dam of emotion burst within you.

Oh, how deeply you miss your mother.

The thick comforter surrounding you does nothing to ease the clenching of your heart. It’s another sleepless night, haunted with images of what happened to your mother out in those lands of the Night Court she shouldn’t have been riding alone in. All to see your brother and check in on him during his time at the camps.

Something in your gut twists like a hot knife. It’s your anger flooding your senses at the thought of how she’d been brutally attacked and left for dead, succumbing to her own injuries. She was all alone out there, and you would have been too, if it weren’t for the request of your father that you stay in Velaris with him until his meeting with Keir was over, the promise that he’d winnow you to the camps and meet up with Rhysand and your mother later.

You’d always been excited about the prospect of winnowing, and you thought that if you stayed back to tag along with your father that he might teach you how to do it yourself.

These days, you wonder if he had set the ambush up himself, a deal struck with those from the Spring Court who you’ve been told had done the terrible awful. 

He died before you got the chance to ask. 

With a heavy sigh, you shove the blankets back and climb out of bed. You forgo a robe, letting the perpetual chill the deepening autumn airs bring forth settle into your bones. You need the bite of the cold floors to ground yourself, the prickling of your fingers, toes, and the tip of your nose because it had been the same cold your mother had endured for so long.

The House of Wind is silent except for the soft padding of your feet against the hardwood floors. You slow your pace, treading very carefully as you creep past Azriel’s room, biting your lip at the sight of the swirling shadows like a cloud of smoke curling beneath the doorframe, always on lookout for their master. If they report to him that you’re awake, he may try to console you in that way of his, where he sits silently in the same vicinity as you. Most of the time, you appreciate his ability to care for others without words, but tonight, you just want to be alone.

In the kitchen, you fill the kettle and set it on the burner, flicking the flames as they lick the bottom of the teapot. While you wait for it to heat, you slice into a lemon, breathing in its fresh scent. It’s relaxing, even though it reminds you of your mother, who would make you a cup of warm lemon water on the nights you were unable to find sleep. She’d often join you in the kitchen, lending an ear to whatever was on your mind.

Tonight, it makes your throat tight.

You climb up to the counter with your made mug between your hands, feet dangling off the floor as you think about her. You swear you can feel her presence, see her at the kitchen as she looked out over the vast mountains of your home, watching the butters and creams of the sunset. Or how she’d pretend not to notice when you snuck into the kitchen and snagged a taste of whatever she was making that night.

It brings a soft, sad smile to your face that falls at the sound of approaching footsteps drawing your attention to the door. Your shoulders sag because you wanted to be alone, but your heart kickstarts in your chest when Cassian is the one who stumbles through the archway.

His hair is mussed with sleep, but it looks like it may have been a restless attempt. He blinks groggily, clearing his throat at the sight of you.

“What are you doing down here?” You ask him. It’s a whisper of your surprise and delight of the beautiful male creeping into the kitchen. The cup in your hands is warm, matching the feeling that his eyes bring forth.

His sleepy gaze hardens into something that you can’t make out in the dark as it creeps up your bare legs to where the hem of your night shirt rests against your thighs. You’re careful not to move as he takes his fill, a moment of weakness in the dark for the both of you, a small acknowledgement of the charge in the air.

His hazel eyes sweep upward, lingering on the perk of your nipples where they’ve gone tight under his gaze. You swear you catch him shuddering, but he’s shaking the tightness from his wings, finally stepping further into the room with a shrug, his stare now pinned to the ground.

“Felt like this is where I needed to be,” he answers lamely, but it means more to you than maybe it should. He could be awake for any reason this late at night. Surely, he has enough on his mind with the looming war that’s headed the Night Court’s way. “Why are you up?” He asks, leaning against the counter across from you and crossing his arms over his chest.

You have to consciously remove your eyes from the sight of his bulging muscles, instead focusing on the slice of lemon that’s swirling around in your cup. “Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about mom.”

Before your next breath, Cassian’s body collides with yours, those strong eyes you were just forcing yourself not to ogle wrapped tightly around you. You squeak in surprise, you didn’t even hear him launch himself across the kitchen, but you easily melt into Cassian’s comforting hold, tears prickling at the back of your eyes as you squeeze them shut tight.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he admits softly, and the warmth of his breath caressing your hair makes you shiver, makes you want to burrow even further into him. He has nothing to be sorry for, he’s not only lost one mother, but now two, since she had taken both Cassian and Azriel in like they were part of her own brood.

When Cassian straightens, he’s already too far away. He stays close, hazel eyes boring into yours as he brushes some of your hair behind your ear, examining you. His touch is a brand across your skin, sending electric zipping through your veins, making you sit taller. Cassian still towers over you, but he seems distracted, thumb stroking across your cheek, drifting down to your mouth to where your tongue darts out to wet them.

His admission is a whisper that strikes you to your very core. “As selfish as this may sound, I’m glad that you weren’t there that night.”

“Me too,” you breathe, trying to crane yourself further into him, to see if he’s finally going to act on the arousal a thick cloud surrounding the both of you.

You don’t need to stretch far because he’s as drawn to you as you are to him, and he kisses you full on the mouth, hard at first, like a desperate man finally getting a taste of the nectar he’s been yearning for his entire life.

Cassian’s hands caress your face, turning you this way and that as your tongues brush in a motion that makes your mind short circuit. He steps closer and your thighs open wide for him to fit between like two perfect pieces of a puzzle.

His hand slips between your legs and you whimper with anticipation that he might touch you there, but he’s only taking your cup in hand and sliding it away so that it doesn’t fall and shatter.

There’s no time to be disappointed though because the feeling of the warmth from your mug is easily replaced by that of his cock trapped in his sleep pants, especially when his hands grab a firm hold of your ass, dragging you closer to grind against him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Cassian says, even though his cock twitches because you’ve captured his lower lip between your teeth and refuse to let go, knowing that he might try and push you away after so quickly giving into what he’s desperately wanted for years.

“Don’t,” you pant, burying your fingers in his hair to keep him close. If this is the only taste of Cassian that you get, you’re going to make the most of it.

He falls into you easily, and the both of you lose yourselves in each other. Your pussy is uncomfortably wet and grinding yourself against his clothed cock isn’t doing much to relieve the aching in your clit. Your whimper of frustration is swallowed greedily by the man towering over you.

“Please, Cassian,” you plead when he’s finally able to tear himself from your lips. Your fingers are fisted around the waistband of his pants so that he can’t escape. “Help me take my mind off of everything.”

He curses because it sounds fucking tempting to have you right here and now, with the moonlight washing in through the kitchen windows and spilling across the counter, your body.

The way you’re looking up at him has him fucking weak. He’d fall to his knees right now, which is exactly what happens when he sees that confidence manifest in your gaze, releasing him only to lean back and strip yourself of your night shirt, baring yourself to him completely.

Your name is a low growl from his lips. It makes your incredibly hard nipples tighten even further, and you hiss in pleasure as he flicks one of them, his gaze hot and dark and utterly consumed by you.

His palm flattens and you arch into his warmth with a soft moan. Your head rolls back on your shoulders because you’ve never had this before, never felt something so sure, something so perfect. Cassian growls at the exposure of your neck, drawn into you like a moth to a pyre, shoving his nose into your throat to catch your scent, heady for him.

“We shouldn’t,” he groans like a dying man.

“We should,” you cry at the nip of his sharp teeth, melting under the sweep of his tongue he uses to smooth the hurt. “Want you to be my first, Cass. Please!”

He freezes against you, completely ignoring the way that you’re writhing against him because all he can focus on are those few words.

“Your first?” His voice is husky, settling right between your thighs. Cassian’s gaze is enamored, desperate almost. You’ve seen that look on the battlefield once or twice, a bloodthirsty one that screams his victory. You’d shy away from its intensity if you weren’t so sure about this.

You swallow harshly. “Yes.”

“You mean that no one has touched these beautiful breasts?” He asks, dragging his large hands to where he’s mentioning. He’s completely consumed by you as he tweaks a nipple in his hands, his mouth coming down hot against the other. You nearly bite through your lip to keep from screaming, your fingers already clawing down his broad shoulders.

“No one has tasted this perfect skin,” he murmurs, mouthing down your body. It makes you want to collapse against the counter, but you need to stay sitting up, you need to see his facial expressions and what he’s doing with his hands. His breath is hot as he lowers himself to his knees before you, hooking his hands beneath your knees, dragging you forward so that your ass is nearly teetering over the edge of the counter. “That no one has tasted this pretty pussy?”

“No,” you breathe, shuddering as his knuckles brush softly across your cunt. Cassian looks like a beast untamed, no semblance of brown in his eyes anymore. They’re all pupil. “Want you to be the only one who does, Cassian.”

Your admission is his undoing. He all but tears your panties from your body and you don’t have time to properly prepare yourself before he splits your seams and drags his tongue up your cunt.

“Cassian,” you say desperately, pressing the back of your hand to keep the noises threatening to escape inside. It feels too good, the hot press of his tongue against your most intimate spot. He’s undeterred by your pleading, your nails digging into his skin. He’s finally had a taste and he’s never letting you go.

He brings you to the edge much faster than you thought was possible. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t getting wetter by the second with his tongue fucking into you, then one finger and two, three before he’s sucking on your clit and flickering his tongue against it in a motion that sets your body on fire.

You’re a shaking mess when you come down from your high, blissed out with the cold cut of stone beneath your bare body. You shut your eyes as you try to catch your breath, only to rip them open when Cassian stands, his hands undoing the ties of his sleep pants. “You know we’re not done yet, right sweetheart?” He asks, and your jaw drops at the sight of his cock bobbing from its confines. He hadn’t been wearing underwear, and your cunt clenches, dripping when he takes himself in hand, giving himself a rough tug before he’s slotting himself between your thighs and rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. “It’s not over until my cum is painting your insides and you are officially mine.”

“Yes,” you groan, spreading yourself wider for him. You’ll take anything he gives you, everything he gives you. “Please.”

Cassian hushes you softly. He needs another taste of your lips before he takes you for the first time. You’re so perfect for him, all spread out on the counter like this, more than eager to be impaled on his cock. And no one else has experienced this, has touched you in the way that he is right now.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever begin to thank you for this gift.

When you part, he helps guide you back onto the counter, making sure that you aren’t too uncomfortable. Your back is going to be sore tomorrow, but he’ll spend the day hiding away in your room, massaging your tight muscles before he’s easing himself back into you.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the breach of his cock in your channel. His thick fingers hadn’t quite prepared you for this. He’s fucking huge, an apologetic look on his face as he eases his way inside of you as slowly as he can manage.

“Relax, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Good girl,” Cassian groans, “Almost there.”

You both share a heart stopping gasp when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. It awakens something slumbering deeply inside of you, that thing you’ve only heard stories of rousing in your chest. You swear you can see it, the thread of essence that moves from your body to Cassian’s, who’s completely enthralled by the feeling as well, eyes locked onto yours.

It’s the feeling of two souls reuniting after so long apart, here in the kitchen while he’s hip deep in your cunt.

You feel whole.

You feel settled.

You feel complete.

“Cassian?” you ask tentatively, because you’re still in shock.

“Will you be my mate?” He blurts, and it’s when he leans in, pressing himself flush against you that you see the glittering of emotion in his eyes. His hands caress your face again, but it’s tendered this time, like he’s going to explore every part of you all over again.

“Yes,” you breathe, a grin breaking out across your face. What a night this has turned into, from your heart broken and sad to fuller than you ever thought it could be.

Cassian kisses you hard, like the emotion of the bond has him feeling completely new, needing to taste your acceptance off his lips.

It hits you when he gives a gentle grind of his hips that this bond isn’t complete until you offer your mate food.

Cassian releases you at the gentle push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, biting back a noise when you twist, reaching out for your abandoned mug and digging around inside.

“Here,” you offer the lemon to him and his eyes shine in amusement, even if he gives you a playful pout. He doesn’t crack a joke though, because he’d lick the dirt off your fucking feet if that was what you offered him. He takes the lemon into his mouth, rind and all, chewing thrice before swallowing it back, and it’s official.

“My mate,” he purrs and holy Gods, does that sound perfect rolling off his lips.

“My mate,” you agree, brushing a falling strand of his hair behind his ear. It soft, an intimate moment, then, “Can you please start moving now?”

Cassian’s responding chuckle makes your heart swell. “I promise to make this up to you, but I need you to know that I’m not going to last long.” You laugh and he groans at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, constricting his cock. You’re not going to last long either, your emotions so heightened that everything makes you feel like you’re right on the precipice of orgasm.

“Deal,” you answer, and he begins moving, pulling out before he’s pressing in again, reveling in the way that you cling to him so quickly, are a mess for him so easily.

Cassian hooks his hand under your knee and pulls it up over his shoulder, changing his angle. The noises you’re making are loud, but neither of you care because of the rawness of the mating bond, the heightened emotions, touches, everything. It’s better than they always told you it would be, not just sex itself, but finding your mate.

And you can feel just how much Cassian loves you with his sweet words, the way his grip is as harsh on you as yours is on him like you might slip away from one another if there’s a part of you that isn’t touching.

That fire builds between you, you can feel it through the bond, blurring your mind as you crash life a wave against the reef, letting your orgasm consume you.

Cassian’s mouth finds your as he plunges over the ledge himself, following you obediently into oblivion. He’s lost in the feeling of you as he fucks his cum deep into your womb. He’s going to have to take you to a healer for a tonic when tomorrow comes, if he’s done with you by then. For now, he’s going to bask in this, the feeling of you in his arms and wrapped tightly around his cock.

He's going to bring you upstairs just as soon as he can catch his breath, but with you as his mate, he doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to catch it again.

And he’s more than okay with that.