#kind of to make up for all the heartbreak of my last posts

[heyimkana]

Desiderium - Chapter 1

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu X Female Reader X Satoru Gojo Genre: Reincarnation AU, Marriage AU, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn Summary: Set in Tokyo, Japan, you and Yuuta were past lovers separated by the cruel hands of fate. That same fate brought you to him again a century later, but while you hold no memories of him or the beautiful life you had shared with him in the past, Yuuta remembers everything. He's waited forever to see you again, yearning for your love, not knowing that you already belong to someone else. Word Count: 15K+ Content Warnings: None for this one, but there will be plenty of smutty scenes starting from chapter 4. Notes: Yuuta, Reader, and Satoru are the same age, all in their late twenties. Satoru has his Hidden Inventory personality here, so he might come off as brash and slightly immature. Reader doesn't have a name but is written with she/her pronouns. She has no physical description other than she has hair long enough to be tied up. She does have her own hobbies and personality traits, all necessary for the plot.

New chapter will be posted every 1-2 weeks. Read it on AO3 here.

Written as a birthday gift for my wife Aleks @princess-okkotsu Art drawn by @alwhmd_ on Twitter (commission)

Yuuta Okkotsu is a mystery, and at this moment, as she meets him for the first time in a room filled with papers and ink and comforting silence, he intrigues her more than any lines in her favorite poetry. 

It’s not love at first sight, of that she is sure. She’s experienced that many years ago, or so she believes, with Satoru—the lover with whom she’s shared frantic kisses and burning touches in the last six years. It doesn’t feel the same with Yuuta right now, not quite. It is something more intense, something she cannot yet fathom, something she wishes she understood.

The second their eyes are locked on each other, it’s like she’s electrocuted, her body freezing at the sensation. 

“Oh, sorry,” she says, her voice sounding like she hasn’t spoken in years. A tiny red spot begins to form on his pale skin, where his chin made contact with her head earlier. “I was reaching out for a book. I didn’t see you there.”

The man, young enough to be around her age with a gaze softer than most, has an expression of a heartbroken man. He looks at her, pain fleeting across his face. 

His eyes… They remind her of the ocean before the storm. 

It’s not the color as they resemble more of a sapphire, like the freshly bloomed delphiniums after the rain. No, it’s the feeling, the way they glimmer under the soft evening light, calm and steady, but in a way, it emits sadness. Yearning. Heartbreak. The kind that makes him feel like he had been crushed, trapped inside a hurricane for so long, he was about to fade into the void. But there’s also hope beneath it, as if he was desperately looking for something, and he’s just a moment away from attaining it. Something tugs upon her heartstrings as he peers into her eyes, full of depths and secrets she longs to unveil. 

He looks like he’s about to cry, she thinks. There are no tears in sight, no quiver in his lips, and yet, to her…

“Are you… all right?” 

The man smiles ever so softly at her question, seemingly too kind to be genuinely coming from the heart, but she believes it. The quiet agony in his eyes has not yet dissipated, but he grows excellent at wearing his mask. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” His voice is rich and soft, breathy and tender when he speaks. “Are you?”

“Not my first time accidentally hitting someone from not paying attention to my surroundings, so yes,” she chuckles. Her pretty sounds stun him. The yearning he’s been trying to conceal shows vividly for a split second. It leaves her confused, worried that he got upset by her actions. “Again, sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve kept my distance.”

She’s sure her eyes have never met him. Her mind doesn’t remember him. Her ears don’t recognize his voice, but she swears she’s seen him before, so much that it feels like he becomes gravity, drawing her to him.

She wants to reach out to him. Wants to know why he looks like he’s seconds away from breaking apart. Wants to ask him whether she’s said too much or too little. But he’s nothing but a stranger, and she doesn’t wish to step out of the line. “Were you also looking for a book?”

“Yes, umm…” He’s tall, taller than she’d expect someone who exudes such awkwardness would be. Compared to other men, he has a youthful look, but she has a hunch that he’s around her age, most likely in his late twenties. He points his finger toward a book on the shelf beside her. “That one.”

She follows his direction, smiling when she reads the title on its spine. “No wonder we bumped heads. I was aiming for the same book.”

“Oh, then, it’s fine,” he hurriedly says, pushing the book back toward her when she tries to hand it over. “You can take it.”

“No, please, go ahead. I’ve read this too many times already.”

“Me too, so—”

“I insist.” She presses the book to his chest, looking up at him. 

He looms before her, standing possibly over 180 centimeters tall that she has to tilt her head up to match his line of vision. She catches a whiff of his scent, the smell of soap and aftershave, thinly layered by cologne. Modest, pleasant, just like him as a whole. 

Despite the slight dark circles swelling under his eyes, he’s a handsome man with a face framed by strong jawlines, a sharp nose, and thick, silky black hair parted on the side. The ends of his strands were long enough to brush against the collar of his ivory turtle neck sweater. His brown coat compliments his pallid skin perfectly, and she can’t help but wonder whether his shoulders are just as broad underneath it. An argent necklace with a ring as his pendant dangles just a few inches above his heart, glinting in the same way as his silver watch under the fluorescent light of the room. When his lips curve up, his eyes do the opposite, drooping in a way that makes him seem younger, which leaves her confused as he also gives off the feeling that he might be older than he appears. 

What a beautiful person, a thought runs through her mind, one that she hastily dismisses before it reaches her tongue. “Take it as a form of my apology for bruising your chin,” she says with a slight grin.

His eyes widen just for a split second before a soft chuckle reverberates from his chest. When he speaks again, it’s almost like a whisper—like a secret never meant to be told, “I can never win against you, can I?”

She barely catches his words. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, tucking his chin to hide his eyes. “I, uhh… I was about to borrow this and grab some coffee. Would you care to join me? I’d love to talk to you more.” His body language indicates that he’s nervous, which she admits is endearing. There’s a momentary pause where she finds herself too busy marveling over his features, but he misunderstands. “I’m—I’m not a pervert or anything like that, I swear! I won’t do anything bad to you.”

She almost laughs. Who talks like that? “That sounds exactly like what a pervert would say.”

He gapes, face flushed. “No, I—” She loves seeing him struggle, so she lets him take his time, just watching him with amusement. He takes a breath, probably trying his best to slow down his soaring heart. “It’s just—it’s hard to find someone with a similar taste like mine and I, umm… I’d like to know you—I-I mean your taste in books—better.”

Usually, she’s not as gullible as to agree to a stranger’s offer, but meeting him somehow feels like reuniting with an old friend. It’s easier to trust him than to be suspicious of him. She wonders if it’s simply because of how affable he seems despite his awkwardness.

Her heart convulses. She knows how grabbing some coffee together tends to lead to something more, and seeing how shy and flustered he is standing in front of her, she’s sure he wants it to lead to something more. Her boyfriend’s name pops into her head, but her lips betray her before her brain can form a warning. “Sure, why not? Let’s prove my guts wrong,” she answers with a slight curve of her lips. “As long as you can tell me your name, that is.”

“Right, sorry.” She loves the sound he makes when he sheepishly chuckles, and she loves it more when it echoes louder in her ears. He offers his hand, stretching out his lean fingers. “I’m Yuuta.”

She expects it to be soft, just like the way he’s gazing at her, but his palm feels calloused against her own. “Yuuta…?”

“O-Okkotsu,” he finishes awkwardly as if he hadn’t spoken his surname in so long that he’d forgotten it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Yuuta Okkotsu.” When she replies to him with her name, he freezes, his eyes widening, shaking in disbelief.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he answers, his expression melting into something warm, full of nostalgia. “It’s just... Your name sounds familiar to me.” She arches a brow, but he leaves her with no time to speak her curiosity. 

Calling her respectfully by her surname, he flashes a smile. “Shall we?” ***

Winter comes with a blush of the autumn time, ready to charm her soul and win her heart all over again, the way it always has since the first time she could remember cotton-like ice crystals falling gently across her window. The days, though shorter, remain clear and dry, as if they were already warmed by a sweet breath of spring even when the year has just begun. To her regret, the snow has yet refused to fall, but the way the city of Tokyo glows at night, with fairy lights wrapped around tree-lined streets, serves as a nice consolation.

 Stepping outside the library, she gazes toward the sky, expecting to be greeted by a blue evening sun, as if the rays would somehow be colder in these icy days, but, of course, it stays golden, divinely warm upon her chilled skin.

“Are you cold?” Yuuta questions as he watches puffs of her warm breaths lingering in the air. “Would you like my coat?”

“No, I’m fine.” All thanks to her wooly sweater. “That’s so nice of you, though. Offering a stranger your coat like that.” And honestly weird because who does that on a first meeting? She mulls to herself, though the thought doesn’t bother her as much as it should.

“I just…” Every time the word ’stranger’ comes flowing past her lips, it seems to hurt him somehow. “I thought you might need it.”

He’s being genuine, she can tell. The same way she can see just how red his cheeks are with the breeze biting too deeply into his skin. “I honestly think you need your coat more than me.”

“Ah,” he chuckles timidly. “Yeah, I’m not really good with cold weather.”

The thought of him all bundled up, sniffling from the wintry winds, enters her mind, making him look so adorable in her eyes. “We should hurry and get all warmed up then.”

They walk side by side, exchanging small conversations as they go. “Is winter your favorite season?” he asks.

“It is. I think it’s pretty. And it gives me the excuses I need to spend the whole day just keeping myself warm and cozy at the library, reading my favorite books. What about you? I suppose you hate it, huh?” 

“I don’t hate it.”

“You don’t? Even though you look like you’re about to freeze to death?”

He laughs softly to appreciate her jest. “No,” he smiles to himself. “I think I might have disliked it in the past, but my—” He stops, clearing his throat. “A friend of mine used to love it so much, so… I’ve grown to like it since then.” 

He said it like it was a secret he tried to repress, someone more meaningful than a friend. Her gaze drifts down to the silver ring hanging over his sweater. That looks like a wedding ring, she thinks, but it would’ve been weird, wouldn’t it? Let’s say he was indeed married; would he flirt with another woman while displaying his ring like this? Maybe he’s divorced? But why is he still wearing it? The thoughts swirl, but she keeps them solely in her mind. ***

Walking from the library to the nearest coffee shop only takes around ten minutes. By then, she’s caught on the little gestures Yuuta makes as he speaks: the way he forces himself to laugh a little when he notices he’s being too straightforward; the way he clears his throat when he feels like his words have more hidden meanings than they let on. She’s become aware of his passion and love for books, so strong that it can only be matched by her own. She’s learned about his dream, a novelist in the making, taking his first baby steps to turn it into reality.

“There’s the one,” she says, pointing a finger to a small yet cozy coffee shop on the corner of the main street, still a few meters ahead. “I don’t drink coffee but often drop by to get matcha lattes before work. They’re amazing.”

“You don’t drink coffee?” Despite his question, he doesn’t appear to be surprised by the fact. It was as if he already guessed it.

“Yeah, umm—” She loosens the collar of her sweater, her body heating up as embarrassment grows. I’d rather die than tell him that coffee upsets my stomach. “You know, the caffeine keeps me awake.”  

“Ah, yes. Of course.” 

It’s probably just her fear and shame playing tricks on her mind, but she swears she sees a little knowing smile forming on his lips. She refuses to acknowledge it for the sake of her heart.

“Oh, hold on.” Yuuta suddenly quickens, taking a couple of strides ahead of her. He pulls on the doorknob, holding the door open. Any other man would do it to leave a good impression. Yuuta does it because he’s raised to do so, a gentleman to his core.

“Thanks,” her sheepish smile causes joy to bloom like roses on his face. 

They step inside the shop, instantly surrounded by wafts of the warm, welcoming blend of coffee beans and caramel. A young female performs a love song on the stage with a pink acoustic guitar perched on her lap, a shade that matches her cotton candy hair. The queue of people desperately needing warm coffees in the chilly evening is longer than she expected. She doesn’t find the heart to change places, however, knowing how Yuuta has been secretly hiding his face behind his scarf, seeking warmth whenever he thought she wasn’t looking (she caught him in the act every time but kept quiet about it for his sake). 

Maybe it’s better if we stay. “Do you mind if we wait in line for a bit?”

“Not at all,” he replies.

 And so they wait, standing side by side, trading secret glances and diffident smiles. 

A staff slides open the display shelf beside her, placing a fresh batch of chocolate pastries and strawberry cakes under the fluorescent light. Saliva pools in her mouth almost immediately. The savory cream, the strawberry fillings in between layers, and—

“You can go ahead and take a seat if you want,” Yuuta offers, swaying her away from her stupor. “I’ll place an order for us.”

“Huh? Oh, no, I can wait here with you. It’s fine.”

“It’s still gonna take a while.” He briefly looks at the six people ahead of them, worried. “You sure?”

She skims through her options quickly. An open spot in the corner would be perfect for them to talk, a safe distance from the live music playing on the stage and the gossiping crowd. “But I’d feel bad,” she speaks her concerns.

“This is nothing,” he assures. “What would you like to have? I know you’re fond of their matcha lattes, but I saw the board, and it says it’s not available right now.”

“What?” She takes a quick view of the handwritten menu on the blackboard. “Oh, you’re right,” she mumbles regretfully, noticing that even a simple matcha tea is crossed out. Great, what should I get? Will I look childish if I ask for hot cocoa with s’mores? Yeah, probably. “What are you getting?”

“Black coffee.”

And, of course, he had to be an adult and choose that, she nearly pouts. Now, I’m definitely going to sound like a kid.

“What about hot chocolate?” he suggests. When she reciprocates with a frown, surprised at how easily he reads her mind, Yuuta quickly adds, “Sorry, it’s just… You look like you have a sweet tooth.”

“Excuse me?”

“I—I saw you staring at the cakes before, so, umm… Sorry if I jumped to conclusions.”

“Oh, wow, that’s embarrassing,” she forces out a faint laugh to mask her shame. “You caught me drooling.”

“No—it’s cute, really!” It’s even more mortifying now that he’s trying to comfort her about it. “I like cakes too. Chocolate ones, mostly. But also the strawberry ones, they’ve been growing on me lately—” he abruptly stops. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. God, I’m sorry.”

She watches him turn flustered, just for a second before she fails to suppress her giggles from escaping. “You caught me drooling, and now you’re panicking about oversharing. We’re a bunch of idiots, aren’t we?” 

The string of her adorable peals of laughter causes his gaze to soften, his eyes turning melancholic as if he were witnessing a memory unveiled before him. She notices him staring—adoring, really, like it’s a habit of hers he’s grown to love for years. Such a weird thing for a stranger to do. 

“You haven’t changed at all,” he says under his breath, or at least she thinks so. She must have heard it wrong.

“All right,” she says, straightening down her sweater. “I’m going to be useful and find ourselves a table before I further make a fool out of myself. I’ll have a slice of that strawberry cake, please.”

“Noted. And your drink?”

“I’ll have what you have.”

“Coffee? But—”

She strides away before he can finish. 

Leaving him standing on the line, she catches him shaking his head from the corner of her eyes, chuckling to himself.

Yuuta arrives at her table a moment later, carrying a tray filled with their orders. “Sorry for making you wait.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” she says, proffering her gratitude with a smile. “Alone.”

“It’s fine,” he mirrors her expression. “Here’s your order.”

“What is this?” She questions as he places down a plate filled with strawberry cake—two slices, with extra frosting and fresh strawberries on top. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

He laughs, his hands busy settling the cups on the wooden table. “I thought you might be hungry after all the waiting.”

“It literally was only fifteen minutes.”

“Well, then, maybe we can share?” he asks, slightly hopeful, before his shyness gets the best of him again. “O-only if you’re comfortable.”

“Please, I’d love to—” She stops, noticing the two cups of hot chocolate—with s’mores—sitting between them. “Wait.”

“Oh, umm,” Yuuta straightens himself on his seat; his posture reminds her of an employee preparing himself to be scolded by the chief. “You said you’ll have what I have, so I got you the same one.”

“Yeah, but didn’t you say you were gonna have black coffee?”

“Did I?” He does it again, emitting that unique laugh of his to hide his discomfort. “Well, uhh, caffeine keeps me awake, so… I changed my mind.”

She squinted her eyes. “You’re actually a lot cheekier than you look, aren’t you?”

He sweats, hastily taking a sip of his drink. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It’s her turn to shake her head this time, all in amusement. “Well, thank you. For being so considerate.”

With a juvenile glee, he replies, “Don’t mention it.” ***

“Have you thought about what kind of story you plan to write?” She asks as she slides her cup closer to her side. Now that she’s finished tasting some of the s’mores with her spoon, a lovely shade of cocoa shimmers inside, glazed with foam and melted marshmallows. “Is it porn?”

Yuuta chokes on his drink, spilling a bit of chocolate down his chin. 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” She promptly snatches some tissues for him, almost dabbing his mouth herself as some of it threatens to spill onto his shirt. Thank goodness he managed to wipe it off just in time. 

“It’s not porn,” he coughs out, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Yeah, no, of course. I was just kidding.” She checks on him, her forehead creasing with concern. “Are you okay? Did some of it get into your nose?”

“I’m fine,” he sniffles, trying his best to smile without wincing.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. You’re just so stiff; I thought I’d ease you up with a joke.” She half-grimaces, half-grins at him. “Guess it’s working?”

“Guess it is. A little.” When he chuckles, she feels an inkling of joy. It doesn’t take long before Yuuta’s little laughter becomes one of her favorite sounds in the world. “Sorry for being so jumpy all the time. Old habit.”

“Not used to talking to strangers?”

“Not like this, no. You’re my first.”

Something warm and pleasant grows inside her chest, but she chooses to ignore it. “Well, consider me honored. So,” she sips her drink, “Your story?”

“Oh, uhh… I plan to write a romance novel.” 

“Romance? That’s surprising.”

“How so?” 

“Hmm, not sure why, but I see you more as someone who writes crime stories. You know, writing from experience, that sort of thing.”

He pouts. It’s adorable. “Because of the way I behave?”

“Because of the way you behave.” She returns to another good-natured chaff. “Also, because you seem… I don’t know, there’s something strange about you.”

Yuuta falls into silence, just for a moment. A reaction she didn’t see coming. “Strange how?”

“Like…” She peers into his eyes, and there it is again. The way he stares at her. The way he tends to express pensive sadness as if he’s been trying to convey something to her—something really important—but she’s not listening. He doesn’t seem suspicious to her, not in the slightest. But he gives her the same feeling she feels when she encounters a mystery in the book, one that she can’t wait to be resolved at the end of the story. Why do you seem so familiar? She ponders before she shakes the thoughts away. “I can’t point my finger at it just yet.” 

His shoulders sag. For some reason, her answer disappoints him. 

She straightens up on her seat, her lips tilting up on their own to cheer him up. “Perhaps I’ll figure it out once we finish our drinks.”

Yuuta smiles, too, but it lacks the same warmth. There’s something he’s not telling. “I hope so,” he says. If there was a hidden message beneath it, she missed it.

Feeling a tad awkward, she taps her fingers against the sides of her cup. “So, a romance novel, huh? I never would’ve pegged you as a romantic if you didn’t tell me.” 

Anything that he wants to say, he swallows it all down to himself. “Well, it’s supposed to be more than just a romance story. It has a supernatural element to it. Borderline fantasy.”

“Like what?”

He takes a few seconds before he responds quietly with a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“Cheapskate.” She purses your lips. “Is it going to have a happy ending?”

“Well, they’ll be separated by death in the end—”

“Hey! Spoiler alert!”

He cringes, “Sorry.” 

“I can’t believe you said, ’You’ll just have to read to find out,’ and then dropped this bomb on me.”

Yuuta chortles, very light, very charming. “I just wanted to make it sound interesting, I guess. I thought you’d do well with sad stories.”

“Well, yes, angst is my cup of tea. It wasn’t before, but I read this heartwrenching book once, and it’s been growing on me ever since.” She then notices something. “That’s a good guess, though.” She throws a joke, “Were you able to tell because I have this constant miserable look on my face—”

“You’re beautiful.” 

She freezes. His line comes out so suddenly, true, but it doesn’t stagger her as much as the way he speaks it. He says it not as a compliment but as the truth. He conveys it so smoothly, but not because he’s used to flirting. His eyes still shake as they stare at her. The slight crack in his voice is one of the tiny proofs of how nervous he is around her. And yet, these words sound so natural in her ears, as if he’d said that to her a thousand times before. 

And it feels like she’s heard it. A thousand times before.

“I… Sorry.” He settles himself on his seat, his cheek blossoming in red when he scratches it with his finger. “I didn’t mean to cut you off. It’s just… You don’t look miserable or anything, you’re… You’re gorgeous.” He can’t meet her gaze. She’s the blazing sun, and he’s a man who’s never stepped out during daylight. “Ah, what am I saying,” he mumbles, only for his ears to hear. She can tell he wishes his seat could swallow him whole. He’s embarrassed, terribly so, that he practically has one hand covering his face. 

“Umm… Thanks.” That’s all she can say because how else could she answer him when he acts like he just made a love confession? Trying to keep it light, she adds, “You’re giving out that suspicious vibe again.”

He claws against his jean-clad thighs, feeling even smaller. “S-sorry…”

“I’m kidding!” She exclaims, flashing her biggest smile. “I appreciate the compliment, truly. Thank you, Yuuta.”

He stops breathing at the sound of his name escaping her mouth. She realizes it’s the first time she’s said it, and seeing how his shoulders turn tense, she begins to worry. “Sorry, I accidentally called you by your first name. I hope that’s not rude?”

“N-no, it’s all right,” he says, pink flames bursting in his cheeks again. He fiddles with his fingers, bashfully adding, “I… actually prefer you call me that way.”

“Oh…” There’s probably no limit to how adorable he can be. “Well then, you can call me by my first name, too.”

The way joy sparks instantly in his eyes is blatant proof that he’s been waiting for the chance, but he shakes his head, too shy to take it. “No, I… I shouldn’t.”

His choice of words leaves her puzzling over it. Not can’t. Shouldn’t. He’s not shy. He’s refraining himself. But for what? “And if I insist?” She asks.

He nibbles on his lower lip, avoiding her gaze, and maybe he’ll do it, just for her sake, but it won’t feel right, will it? 

“Never mind, it’s fine,” she comforts him. “You can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

Yuuta seems relieved, thanking her in silence with little nods.

“So, what happened to them? The lovers in your story.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to spoil it.”

“You can’t just say something like they’re dying and then not tell me about it.”

He awkwardly laughs. “If you insist, I can give you a hint later, but you’ll have to imagine the rest.”

“Then tell you about it? What if you steal my idea?” She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “I happen to have a very creative imagination, you see.”

“I promise you I won’t,” he answers so thoughtfully that she almost feels sorry for teasing him. “I’ve finished writing my version of it. I’ll let you see it after you tell me yours.”

“Huh, interesting.” She pretends she’s rethinking her decision, just to get him a little hopeful and nervous about it. “Deal, why not.”

His eyes are filled with excitement. “Does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

She wants to poke fun at him again by saying ’maybe,’ but Yuuta resembles an overjoyed puppy waiting for a stroll. She doesn’t have the heart to do it. “Well, I do have to go back to the library to return the book, so… Yes.” 

His lips parted in the brightest smile, his eyes glimmering in delight. “Then, next week. I’ll see you again next week. Same time?”

Like a disease, his glee is contagious, sending ripples of joy inside her. “All right. But be sure to keep your chin away from my head next time.”

He titters, “I’ll try.”

They exchange stares, sharing sheepish smiles. She breaks away first, bringing her focus back to her drink. It has grown slightly cold over the passing minutes, but the sugary taste has become quite an addiction.

“I’ve never seen you in the library before,” Yuuta mentions. “Was today your first time visiting?”

“No. I’ve been going there almost every day for the last month, but I usually visit in the morning. I just moved to a new company, you see, and my office building is nearby. I walk past the library every day, and since my shift starts late, I often drop by before work to read for an hour or two. My apartment is pretty small, so it feels a bit cramped. That’s why I enjoy spending more time outside.”

“You’re spending your weekends in the library too?” He wonders aloud.

She playfully narrows her eyes at him. “Why does it feel like I’m being judged here?”

“No!” He panics. “I just thought that—that you’d have friends inviting you out or, y-you know.”

“Well, I’m not really one to party,” she chuckles to ease his anxiety. “I don’t do well with crowds. It feels better to have a one-on-one conversation like this. More meaningful.” 

He’s a mystery, but in some ways, he’s also an open book. Every time her word delights him, it shows. “Me too.”

She smiles, but it slowly drops as she swirls her spoon, watching the little whirlpool she creates inside the cup. “But it’s also because… Well, I can’t read at home.”

“May I ask why?” 

“I have a boyfriend who works from home, so he’s always there with me.”

Yuuta’s fingers stop tapping against the surface of the coffee table but it’s too fast for her to notice before he starts again. “I see,” he replies. The smile on his lips never falters; the one in his eyes does. “Is he a lively person?”

“Very,” she sighs. “And loud. It’s hard to focus on your book when you have a grown man either swearing at his computer screen for probably twelve hours a day or snoring throughout the morning like he wants the whole town to hear it.” She catches herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to vent. He’s nice, I care about him a lot, it’s just… I need some time for myself. Somewhere quiet.”

It doesn’t last long, but she senses it, the changes in his expression. It feels like she just said something terribly hurtful to the point that she feels like apologizing for it.

Maybe he notices her noticing, which is why he tries to mask his feelings better with a broader smile that does reach his eyes this time. “And that’s why you chose to visit a library.”

“Yeah. I mean, I could go to a book cafe, but…” She shrugs. “I don’t really like it. Too modern, too… many people just taking selfies instead of actually reading, you know?” 

That earns her a chuckle. “But why here, specifically? There are many new ones in town. Bigger ones, too. This place is pretty old and dusty.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she nods, sighing. “This is going to sound dumb, but that library feels nostalgic to me. The first time I stepped inside, I felt like I’d spent all my life there. It was like I had memories there—just sitting on that old couch, reading books, enjoying the silence. It just feels familiar, you know? Even more comforting than being in my room. It’s weird, but I can only feel at ease when I read there.” Yuuta stays so quiet that she has to lift her head and meet his gaze to understand a glimpse of what goes through his head. His face is solemn, undecipherable. “What about you? What’s your reason, Yuuta?”

He drags his eyes away from hers, fixing them on the interlaced fingers around his cup. The light in his eyes slightly dims as he turns pensive. 

“It’s just closer to my place.”

***

“Hey, Bunny,” her boyfriend of six years, Satoru Gojo, chirps from the bedroom. It’s not so much of a warm greeting, not anymore, not like how it used to be. The pet name he calls her now feels just like another word. All the fluttering butterflies in her stomach seem to have died, along with his welcome home hugs and I’ve missed you kisses. 

Judging from his voice, he must have a cherry lollipop stuck in his mouth, another replacement for his cigarette. He used to be addicted to it back in college, influenced by his best friends—Suguru and Shoko. His room smelled like one whenever she visited it for… well, a ’study date’ he used to call it. She had asked him to stop smoking countless times in the past and nagged about it for two years as she grew worried over his health, but each complaint fell on deaf ears. Satoru only stopped a couple of months ago, breaking the news to her with a grin, saying, “I did this for you, babe. Aren’t you proud of me?” And she smiled at him, she always did, even as she stared at Suguru’s face among the pictures he had on his nightstand, reminded of the truth. Satoru didn’t do it because of her, and he most certainly didn’t do it for her. He just didn’t want to end up collapsing from heart disease like Suguru did. That’s all there is. And that got her thinking. 

When was the last time her boyfriend did something for her? Or listened to her? Or noticed something different about her hair or the new dress she wore? 

She styled her hair for him. She bought a new toothbrush before he asked for his to be replaced. She decorated her apartment in his favorite color on the day he moved in, eagerly wanting to make him feel comfortable, but every piece of furniture and accessories he bought after always had the same shade. He thought it was her favorite color, too. He never asked, just assumed, which summed up her entire relationship with him. 

It never occurred to him that she did everything for his sake, for his pleasure, for his happiness, because he never thought of doing something solely for her sake. Satoru was always about me and us, but never you. “This color is nice, isn’t it, babe?” It wasn’t, but she smiled again, never letting him know that his favorite color was the color she hated the most.

But maybe it’s just her fault. 

Maybe she’s put herself in this situation for not being honest, for always keeping her thoughts to herself, for always agreeing with him instead of saying what she wants. It’s just… She’s tired. Tired of fighting over minor differences,  tired of worrying that her protest would lead to a bigger fight, one that would drain them emotionally and damage their relationship for good. But she couldn’t help but think how nice it would be if he were, at least, considerate enough to ask. 

Back when they first dated, Satoru was everything she could ask for. He knew how to keep her standing on her toes. He was driven by impulse. Exciting. Unforgettable. 

Those late-night drives on his motorcycle when she spent hours laughing at his stories with her hands settled deep inside his leather jacket…

Those weekends they spent traveling together to a country where none of them spoke the language, wandering around with no map in their hands, sharing heavy kisses in an abandoned alley, and drunk-dancing to songs sung by strangers… 

And those nights when he would have her body speak to him in ways that only he allowed, her head swirling in ecstasy as she succumbed to his naughty smirks and experienced hands. It was fun. 

So what changed?

“Lend me one of your earphones. I want to know what song you’re listening to.”

“You’re a bit quiet today. What’s wrong?”

“Let’s watch this movie again. You seemed to enjoy it a lot when we saw it at the cinema.”

“I like it when you wear your hair down like this. It looks nice.”

These words… Did he use to say them to her in the past? She can no longer remember, but she forces herself to believe that, yes, he did, he said them all the time. It’s a terrible way to deceive her mind so her feelings for him remain the same. It’s a pathetic way to convince herself that his feelings for her remain the same.

“Hey,” she replies to his greeting, even when he’s nowhere to be seen.

“You’re late.” Satoru, like always, has his fingers running on his keyboards. His magnetic blue eyes are locked to his computer screen, probably have been for the past few hours. She wonders if he even looked up to see her when he heard her footsteps earlier. Most likely not. “Did you get the puddings I asked you?”

“Yes. I put them in the fridge.” 

“Okay, cool.”

No ’thank you’ but what was she expecting anyway?

She removes her coat and unwraps her scarf from her neck before moving toward the living room. She can’t remember what or who initiated it, but it has been almost a year since he started living in her apartment. She remembers how he used to spend just one night at her place on the weekend, then two when he felt a bit needy for her touch. Before she knew it, his personal belongings were scattered all over the place—his hoodie on the couch, his towel hanging on the bathroom door, his toothbrush on her sink. Satoru could be spending the entire week at her place, only taking a short trip back to his apartment once he ran out of comic books to read. The changes just came so naturally that she didn’t notice at first, but by the time she did, it was too late to even bring the topic to the table. 

So she decided to turn her apartment into a home, making it official that they’d moved in together, reshaping it into a place where both she and he could be comfortable and adjusting plenty of things to his needs. Satoru didn’t notice the effort, let alone appreciate it. And now she’s starting to count the days when he’ll eventually stop noticing her as well.

Being with Satoru was easy, casual, and he gave her more reasons to laugh over little things than anyone else. During the first two months of living together, they acted like newlyweds, with him peppering kisses on her face whenever she arrived home from work. Unlike her, Satoru is a freelancer who does most of his work at home. He used to be considerate enough to do some chores for her—cooking, cleaning the bathroom, and sometimes even doing her laundry when he felt like he’d been neglecting her. Whenever she arrived late, he’d always have something prepared for her, beaming at her with a infectious grin while chiming, “Oh, finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you for hours, and I’m starving like crazy. Today’s dish is your favorite, so let’s hurry and eat!”

Unlike him, she appreciated his effort. Each and every one of them. It didn’t feel one-sided then, unlike now.

Satoru used to be perfect, more perfect than anyone else, but then she realizes that he was just trying to impress. Impress her, impress his colleagues, impress his teachers. And now, maybe he doesn’t feel the need to impress her any longer. Nor does he want to.

She was happy, but things are bound to change, and happiness doesn’t last forever. It started slow, almost unnoticeable, with him forgetting to kiss her good night before bed and her treating the fact that he no longer paid attention to what she was wearing as normal. Nowadays, he doesn’t have enough affection to greet her with his smile—one that used to shine brighter than the sun. Comforting hugs and welcome kisses are long forgotten.

It’s lonely, but it’s fine. He’s still here. Satoru is still hers as much as she is his.

It’s fine.

As she rests on the couch, her fingers brush against the book she borrowed from the library the other day. Her mind drifts back to the stranger she met, her smile growing so naturally on her lips at the memory.

Satoru walks out of the bedroom with a yawn, one hand rubbing against the back of his head while the other slips underneath his shirt to scratch the itch on his stomach. He’s stopped minding about his appearance in front of her a long time ago, wearing and doing whatever he feels comfortable with, unbothered by what runs through her mind. She never speaks up anyway. With an enervated “hey,” he enters the bathroom, never stopping to ask her about her day, though she doesn’t really expect him to do so. 

A brief moment later, he returns with his eyes still bleary despite his attempt to wash his face. Noticing his messy silver hair and the black shirt he’s been wearing since yesterday, she follows him to the bedroom, asking, “Have you taken a shower today?”

“Nope,” he answers, plopping himself back to his gaming chair, his eyes locked on his computer screen. “I was busy. Had a meeting with a client this morning.”

She takes a glance at the digital clock on his desk. “But it’s already eight-thirty.”

“Thought I could shower with you today.” He flaunts his cheeky grin, catching her off guard. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, but then again, now that she noticed, it’s been almost two weeks since they last had sex.

She’s exhausted from work. Her body is aching. “I see. Well, I’m about to take a shower now.”

“Like now now?” He hisses when his character on screen takes damage from his opponent. “I’m still playing. Tomorrow morning, then?”

“Sure,” she says, just for the sake of conversation. She already can tell it won’t happen. She has to leave early for work, and Satoru would rather die than wake up at seven in the morning. 

“Hey, umm… I met someone yesterday.” She reaches out to stroke his hair. It’s so soft and fluffy, like a dog’s fur, even when the strands point in every direction. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed, it was how she still found it calming to just card her fingers through them. A habit that she did often in the past as he loved falling asleep with his head on her lap while she indulged herself with her favorite book. The feelings are the same, only his reaction isn’t. He used to lean into her touch as a kitten would. Now, he doesn’t even spare her a glance. “Satoru… Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah, one sec.” He smashes more buttons before he slides down his headphones, letting them rest on his neck. “What’s up?”

“I met someone yesterday. At the library.”

“O… kay?” He knits his eyebrows, confused. “What’s that gotta do with me? Someone I know?”

Surprise blinks in her chest at first, followed quickly by disappointment and then acceptance. Another piece of her heart still breaks, but she’s grown used to the feeling. “No, I just… I don’t know, I thought you should know.”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Honey, I’m not keeping you locked up in here. You’re allowed to meet anyone you want. Don’t need to report everything back to me.”

She refrains herself from chewing on her lip. “You’re right. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Baby, of course you’re not bothering me,” he coos, poking her playfully in her stomach. “I’m just saying that ’cause you made it sound like a big deal.”

“Yeah,” she replies, careful not to sound too cold. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Satoru smiles before he spins on his chair, returning to his game. “Who was it?” He asks, fingers running fast over the keys. “It’s not a man, is it?”

She pauses. “Yes…”

He stops tapping, only for a second. “Is he hot?”

“Well, he’s not ugly.”

“Then don’t get too close to him.”

Satoru is the jealous type. He has always been. He’s far from controlling, but his possessiveness often feels suffocating. Or, at least… It used to be. And that was fine. It made her happy to know someone out there liked her so much he didn’t want to share her with anyone else. She felt wanted. Needed. But not today. 

Today, although his words weigh heavily on her, she can tell they weren’t born from his affection for her—if there was even still any of it left. She is his belonging, his possession, and he’s a lion guarding his territory. That’s it.

And that’s… fine, too. At least he still cared.

“I won’t,” she answers, as she should. “I won’t get too close to him.” She repeats it, this time for her own ears, to remind herself.

“Good,” he says, dismantling their tension as easily as a moth shreds its wings. He flashes her a grin with that youthful sparkle in his eyes. “Then we don’t have anything to worry about.” Satoru returns his full attention to the screen, not caring if she’s still standing in the room, waiting for him to care more about her than the man he suspects is eager to snatch her away.

“What will we be having for dinner?” She asks him while he’s busy shouting foul words to his screen.

“Jesus—left, you moron!” He groans loudly into the air before turning around, finally realizing she’s waiting for his answer. “What? Oh.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I just had some take-outs.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“I was dead hungry, but I ordered some for you, too. It’s probably cold now, but you can heat it.”

“Can you do that for me, please? I love it when you add more seasonings to it.” 

“Bunny, you know I’d love to do that, but,” he smiles apologetically before his fingers dance across his keyboards again, “I’m in the middle of something here. There’s an event going on, and these assholes literally won’t let me take a break. Listen, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, I promise.”

She has stopped believing in his promises, or at least doesn’t allow herself to believe in them anymore. She’s learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything.

She smiles back, pushing his hair away so she can land a kiss on his temple. She refuses to say a word no matter how much her bottled-up feelings are about to burst.

Because she knows silence is what keeps their relationship alive. 

***

That following night, Yuuta appeared in her dream.

Standing on the small row between bookshelves with a small feather duster in hand, she found him entering the door to her library—one that bore an uncanny resemblance to the place she often visited in reality. 

He seemed much, much younger than the version she knew, maybe by ten years or so. He had more tan on his skin, his hair a little shorter, color’s a shade darker. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way, like a young English man from the 1940s, with his white buttoned-up shirt, suspenders, and a beige coat that was a couple of sizes bigger than it was supposed to be. Nevertheless, he looked just as breathtakingly handsome as in real life.

Yuuta took off his wool-felt fedora hat, greeting her with a polite bow the moment their eyes met. He was just as timid and awkward; his cobalt eyes never stayed long enough to be locked with hers, but they were honest—the way they shimmered in adoration at the sight of her, painted with both suppressed desire and affection.

He called her with a name—a surname, she assumed, one that she didn’t recognize, but it didn’t feel quite as strange in her ears as it should have been. It was the first time she heard it, and yet, it almost felt like it was her own.

Her body went on autopilot, words flowing from her mouth before she could process the situation. It was like she was residing in someone else’s body, just a bystander. “Good morning to you, too,” she said, bowing her head.“Okkotsu-sama.”

He displayed a mix between a smile and a wince. “Must you refer to me in such a way again?”

“Well, I thought we’d agreed to call each other by our names yesterday,” she heard herself correcting him in a playful manner. “But someone seemed to change his mind.”

He fidgeted a little, his cheeks smeared with scarlet. “I’m… I’m feeling rather embarrassed.”

“If you feel embarrassed calling me, a commoner, by my name, how do you think I feel to be addressing a young nobleman such as yourself without any honorifics as you requested?” 

“Well, I…” Unable to compose a retort, Yuuta sighed in defeat, though his amusement was still sketched vividly on his face. “You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you? We’ve only met for a few days, but I already can see myself never winning an argument against you.”

“Well, isn’t it nice to lose sometimes?” She tossed him a smirk, returning half of her attention to continue swabbing the dust off the shelves. “You already have everything you want under your feet, after all. I think it’ll serve as a nice change.”

“Not everything,” he said, staring at her fondly, like a young boy captivated by a lovely dancer on stage. A thousand messages remained unspoken, and yet, with butterflies swirling in her stomach, she could somehow read each one.

“Maybe not yet,” she said, a glimmer of seduction on her lips. 

He gulps. 

Taking off his coat and letting it hang loosely on one arm, Yuuta shortened the distance between them with nervous steps. They chatted for a bit, feeling grateful that it was still quite early in the morning for other patrons to visit. It was easy to melt the ice between them, but only because she knew how, and watching him loosen up around her filled her with some sort of achievement. 

Sometimes, when their conversation died for a few seconds of comforting silence, she’d catch him looking at her with a half-dazed look on his face.

“What is it?” she asked, despite already knowing the answer. “You’re staring again.”

“Oh, umm…” Though mortified, he still used the chance to confess. “I just thought… You look beautiful today.” He sported a soft smile, one that melted her heart the same way his roseate cheeks did. It was also, she realized, the same one that bore the exact look like the one she saw in real life. 

“Why, thank you,” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Hopefully, you’re not implying I didn’tlook beautiful yesterday.” 

He blanched. “No, of course not! You’re always beautiful! Ever since I first saw you, you’ve always… been…” At the sight of her covering her smile behind her hand, he exhaled in relief, resting his hat on his chest. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, putting her duster away before dismantling her apron. “Now, if you’d follow me, Okkotsu-sama, I will show you where—” 

He cut her off with a gentle call of her name—her first name—and it staggered her to her feet. Her body might come to a halt because of how lovely her name sounded in his voice—in that sweet tone of his—but her heart froze because it was her name that rolled off his tongue. Her actual name.

That was when she realized: the person who she believed to be a stranger, was herself. And it had occurred all the time in her other dreams, yes, but this one felt… real. 

“T-there,” he stammered, flushed. “I called you by your name. Can you please stop addressing me that way now?”

She felt her lips curving upward. Her voice had never sounded as sweet as  it was when she said, “Yuuta.”

His blush unfurled from his neck to his cheekbones, like red tulip burgeoning on pure white snow. “Thank—” he stopped to swallow his breath, unable to maintain his gaze. “Thank you.”

Tittering lightly at his behavior, she took him by the hand. “Shall we?” 

She guided him further inside the library, introducing one title after another with her fingertips dancing between books. They weren’t as dusty as they were in her reality, the titles far from familiar to her eyes. Weird, she thought, as she was confident that she had memorized most of the books sitting on that particular shelf. Even when she’d visited the library earlier that morning before her shift started, her eyes had roamed along the same section. 

“Which book would you like to read today, Yuu?”

He still grew adorably tense every time his name slipped through her lips,  especially like that, but he was getting used to it. “I’m—I’m not yet sure. Will you choose one for me?”

“Hmm…” She tapped her chin. “Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you,” Yuuta said, smiling a tad wider than before, perfect teeth peeking behind soft red lips. 

“Well then…” She stood on her toes to reach the book she’d been excited to show him all day. “Shall we start with this one?”

The vision ended without her knowing what book it was or the line between her dream and reality. They stood out so vividly—the scenery, his expressions, the lines she’d exchanged with him—that it took her a few good minutes to convince herself that it was just a dream and not a memory.

She couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. 

***

Her dream follows her every step like a shadow, even in her wake.

Saturday comes, and she finds herself in the library again, just as she promised him. Compared to what she’s seen in her dream, this place is indeed old, with walls standing in dire need of being repainted and books collecting more specks of dust than they have readers flipping through their pages. But the faint smell of sandalwood combined with the orange tint of sunlight sneaking through the windows is always calming. Crowds don’t gather much around here—maybe four or five people at most—and the tranquility consoles her. There’s only a soft thrum of acoustic guitar playing through the speakers that keep her company—

“You’re looking for this one?”

—and Yuuta.

“Yes, indeed, my good sir.” She takes the book from his hand. “Thank goodness we didn’t have to bump heads today.”

“Well, I’d promised you not to,” he chuckles. “Though I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

He’s wearing spectacles today, round glasses adding a layer of maturity to his youthful face. Combined with his long brown coat accentuating his height, he looks even more handsome, her stomach tingling whenever his eyes flicker back toward hers. He tilts his head slightly to the side, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tries to read her expression. “Is there something wrong? You’re staring at me. I-is it my joke? Was that rude? Please don’t take it the wrong way—”

“No, calm down,” she can’t help but giggle despite being embarrassed for getting caught in the act. “Sorry, I was just staring because of your, umm… height.” It is true, though not completely.

“My height?”

“Yeah. Must be nice being so tall, huh? I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach it, and I still needed your help.”

He blinks, noticeably surprised, though she’s not sure whether it’s her grumbling or her childish pout that bewilders him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, returning to his gentle smile. “I just… didn’t think you’d say that.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean you specifically. You just remind me of my boyfriend.” He seems surprised, yet again, but instead of restoring his smile, this time he turns quiet. She feels the need to explain. “He’s so tall, you see. Taller than you, even. And he always makes fun of me for my height, like moving my coffee cups to a higher shelf just so he can watch me beg him for help. He’s a bit of a prankster.”

Yuuta chews on the inside of his cheek, tucking his chin. “I wouldn’t have made fun of you,” he says quietly after a moment of confusing silence. “I will never make fun of you.”

The sudden solemnity in his voice feels heavy on her ears. “You don’t think I’m short?”

“I  think you’re perfect.” He lifts his face, suddenly blurting out his words like he’s in a debate he desperately tries to win. Staggered by it, she can only stare. He turns flushed. “I—I mean, being short makes you look cute, like a child. N-not saying I’m into kids—I’m not a pedophile, I swear—”

“That sounds exactly like what a pedophile would say.”

His jaw drops. A giggle escapes her. And when she laughs, he does it too, the sound so warm and comforting that it makes her feel like she’s sitting in front of a cozy fireplace.

She returns her gaze to the shelf. “So, Okkotsu-san,” she teases, “which book would you like to read today? Can’t be this one ’cause I got it first,” she grins, lifting the book she held in her arms.

“Which you only got because of my help.”

“True, but the point still stands.”

Her childishness never fails to amuse him. “Hmm, I’m not yet sure. Will you choose one for me?”

She freezes, her heartstrings playing a familiar symphony. She opens her mouth, hesitates, but then decides to say what her memory tells her to do, “Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you.”

From skipping a beat to racing twice as fast, her heart feels foreign in her own chest. “Umm… Okay.”

Yuuta tilts his head, examining her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just remembered something, uhh, something to do at home. Later. Anyway,” she hastily averts her gaze, her eyebrows tied in a knot as she tries to understand is this what deja vu feels like? She searches for a book, trying to be at ease despite her stomach swirling uneasily. “Shall we start with this one?”

Yuuta’s frown stays for only a second longer before he breaks into another smile. “Sure.” 

***

Weekdays are reserved for Satoru, but weekends…

Weekends are the days when her heart can finally dance and smile and live. And every song starts and ends with his name: Yuuta.

Satoru always has plans every weekend, plans that don’t involve her, not anymore. She did this to herself, mostly by declining his offers to mingle with his friends and co-workers until, eventually, he stopped asking. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go; she just no longer has the energy to keep up with hours of his social life when all she does is sit at the corner, doing nothing but sip on her drink and waste her phone battery to pass the time. 

Satoru’s friends are nice, but they don’t really resonate with her in the way she would love it to be. Shoko smokes too much. Suguru judges her taste in anything behind his angelic, saccharine smile. Haibara is exceptionally energetic that he tires her simply by looking at him. Mei Mei visits the girls’ bathroom once every twenty minutes to check on her little brother, and Nanami… Well, Nanami is all right. They could spend hours just grousing over how terrible it was being a corporate slave, but he’s not there often, taking away the small chance she has to make herself visible. Satoru would bring her into conversation occasionally, but as soon as he got a nod or two, he’d focus on Suguru, who, for some reason, always knew how to ruffle his feathers.

So, the routine starts. Friday nights are for his co-workers. Saturdays are for his college mates. And Sundays… Well, Sundays are supposed to be filled with breakfast in bed and bodies tangled under the sheets with her, but Satoru has forgotten his promise a long time ago, using them to regain all the sleep hours he’s been missing the days before instead of having some quality time to catch up with his lover. But it’s fine. She’s learned how to make the best of her time, finding companies in books that never make empty promises nor offer her disappointment the way he does. And now she finds an even better option. 

She meets Yuuta every weekend when the sun is a couple of hours away from setting. They don’t chat for long as their conversations are always reserved for the little coffee shop gathering (she’s trying to avoid the word ’date’) that always occurs after a few pleasant hours of reading. They begin to grow comfortable with each other, much easier than she thought they would, and very quickly, as if they were old friends reconciling for the time they’ve lost. Maybe even more than old friends—a thought that should scare her. 

At the library, she spends most of their hours poring over her chosen book for the day while stealing glances at him. More often than not, she’ll catch him doing the same, but whenever their gazes meet, he’ll look away with his face steaming, busying himself at once by scribbling something incoherent, most likely, down on his paper.

Today is a rare occasion. He’s been keeping his gaze fixated on his own writings; the world seemingly turns obscure around him. His eyebrows taut together as he sinks more profoundly into his thoughts, a habit that she finds beguiling. His raven hair seems a shade lighter as the evening sun casts its light upon his face, basking him with such a warm, beautiful glow.

He really does look like a painting, she admires, stealing glances at him from behind her book. The perfect shape of his nose, his skin as pure as the driven snow, the way he’s so fixated on his story, drowning inside his imagination… It’s easy to be bewitched by his beauty.

She must be careful not to let her endless praise slip through her mouth. “So focused,” she coos, choosing to act mischievously instead, which earns her a little smile. “Writing a new scene? I thought you’d finished your draft.”

He looks up from his paper, meeting her eyes. They linger briefly as if it was hard for him to look away once he’d set his eyes on her. Though it happens all the time, she can never get used to it. 

He smiles quietly to himself, a soft blush painting his features. “Just a short one.”

She hums in response. Having trouble refocusing on the passage she just read now that he’s giving her attention, she throws another question at him. “Why aren’t you using a laptop? I mean, it would’ve been a lot easier, right?”

“Not fond of it,” he responds, re-reading the words he just wrote. “I feel more like a writer this way.” When he notices her tittering, he arches his brow. “What?”

“You sound like my father.”

He scrunches his nose. It’s cute. “Then I’m sure your father is a brilliant, tech-savvy man.”

“I’m saying you have an old soul, the way you prefer to do things more traditionally.” She sinks further into her chair, opening a new page, eyes scanning the lines but not reading them. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us since I already have the e-book version of this on my iPad, yet I’m still here reading it in a library. How’s your story going so far?”

“Pretty well. I just came up with a really annoying character.” His smile is a bit different this time, somewhat impish. A new look on him that she instantly adores. “Inspired by someone.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Yuuta drags his pen over his note. “Character B begins to question whether she’s—”

She playfully slaps her book against his shoulder.

The more time she spends with him, the more she feels like he’s becoming a mystery she can’t solve. She’s closer to him, closer than any of her friends, but she knows there are secrets he tries to bury underneath those tender smiles. To her, Yuuta, with his eyes always seeming like they’re telling a different story—one that nearly drives him to the brink of tears—still appears like an incomplete puzzle. And if time allows her, she’d gladly collect every piece of him to perceive  him better.

***

Dreams are supposed to be strange. Nonsensical. Meaningless and easily forgotten. And yet, ever since Yuuta walked into her life, they’ve become anything but. Every detail stood more vividly than the memories of her own childhood, so vibrant with colors that it made it impossible for her to stray away from it even when she was awake. They occur every night, forming a chain of events beginning from the very first day she encountered him by chance in the library. 

In her dreams, they spent most of their time there, almost in the same way they did in real life. But while only weeks had passed by in reality, time flowed much faster here. She could tell that the season had changed from the clothes they wore to the coldness that kissed his cheek scarlet. There were never the same books lying between their hands, but she didn’t notice them at first, not as clearly as the changes in the air shared between them. 

They grew closer faster than they did in real life, fondness in the glances they covertly tossed to each other. Their voices were glazed more with adoration than mirth every time they laughed, and the smiles they shared were everlasting. Yuuta’s eyes lingered every time he had the chance to marvel at her features for a little while. Sometimes, they were lost in her darker hues. Sometimes, they remained longer than they should have on her lips, watching them move but not registering any words spoken. Sometimes, if she were lucky, she’d have the chance to gaze back into them, and he’d let her have a taste of the depth of the affection he held for her. And they’d let the moment pass just like that for a second or two, forcing time to slow down and their surroundings to reduce into a blur until they were the only two people left in the universe.

In one dream, when the serene evening rain tapped itself against the tall windows of her library, she saw Yuuta braving himself to touch her hand for the first time, just the slightest brush of his quivering fingertips against hers as they read from the same book, a touch so light it rivaled the softness of a zephyr’s kiss upon a baby’s strand. She could feel her face warming at the touch, a new sensation, but she didn’t hate it, not at all. If anything, it left her wanting more. The dream ended with them sharing secret smiles with themselves, innocent hearts kissed by the flame of first love.

Every night, this happens. And it’s like witnessing the beginning of a love story. Her love story. Though most of the time she feels like she’s inhabiting someone else’s body, it’s beginning to feel like…

I’m falling for him, too.

It’s a scary thought, but she puts no effort to stop it. After all, this is just a dream, isn’t it? I’m only falling for this version of him—the version that I, or rather, my mind, created. And that’s why he’s so perfect, right? Because that’s how I want him to be. It sounds like a perfect theory, and so she believes it wholeheartedly. 

Only on certain nights when exhaustion took a toll on her body did she manage to sleep without him visiting her mind, but that was simply because she wasn’t dreaming at all. It seems like she only has two options now: enter a dreamless sleep or fall into memory-like sequences that revolve around him and no one else.

Last night was no different.

She entered her dreamland, a burst of sunlight blinding her at once. She threw her stare down to avoid it, seeing her hands going in motion to accompany her moving legs. She could see the end of her plain, dark grey kimono swaying with every step, her feet covered in white socks that were split between her toes, matched by a pair of formal sandals made of rice straws. She was taking a stroll down one of the busiest streets of Tokyo—or at least, that was where she assumed they were. 

To say that the city appeared dissimilarly from the one she resided in now is an understatement—they were poles apart. The architectural design of the buildings embraced more of the historic European elements instead of the perfect blend of the traditional Japanese architecture and modernist designs they have now. The Western influence lay thickly in every aspect of life that she managed to identify in the short time she was there. From food, clothing, music, painting—everything was transformed by it. The city looked breathtaking and unsettling at the same time. 

She recalled seeing such scenery commemorated in one of the history books she studied in school. She was indeed in Tokyo—a couple of decades before it was bombed to the ground, turning the once beautiful city into nothing but dust and rubbles, drenched in the blood of more than a hundred thousand civilians during the Second World War.

 The thought made her blood curdle. 

“Are you all right?” 

Yuuta, appearing just as young as the first time she saw him in her dream, asked her worriedly. He was dressed in another set of Western clothing, looking exceptionally handsome in his white button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up, a black tie, and a matching dark vest that highlighted the shape of his broad chest and lean waist. The wind ruffled his hair as he walked beside her, perfecting it by adding a little boyish charm, a perfect company to the blush on his cheeks that emerged from the late spring’s sunlight heat. 

The one thing that was missing was his smile, his face twisted in concern as he eyed her closely. “You haven’t said anything in a while… Am I boring you?”

“No, of course not,” she heard herself say, stepping to the side of the road to speak with him in private. He bent his head down to listen to her properly, not wanting her voice to be drowned by the murmurs of the passing crowd. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just… I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” He repeated, both in disbelief and amusement. “Why is it so hard for me to imagine that?”

“It’s true,” she pouted. “Unlike you with your sweet, extravagant life, I’ve never had the pleasure of being invited to a concert before. I don’t know what to do once I’m there. I don’t know what to say to your friends. I don’t even think I’m dressed correctly for the occasion—Why are you laughing at me?!”

“I’m not.” He clearly was, even when he was trying to swallow every bit of his laughter. “I’m sorry. I know this is a new experience for you, but really, there’s no need for you to feel so anxious. All you have to do is sit down beside me and enjoy the show. You don’t have to say anything to my friends if you don’t want to. We could also just avoid them entirely if you think that could put you at ease.”

“But… I thought you wanted to discuss something with them after the show.”

He hummed as he pretended to cogitate on it, secretly smiling to himself. “Well, I suppose I could meet new business partners every other day, but being with you? When you’re so adorably nervous like this?” His grin was as beguiling to marvel at as the blush that kissed the apples of his cheeks. “That doesn’t happen every day now, does it?”

Speaking of cheeks—she was pinching them. Hard. “We haven’t met in two weeks, and suddenly, you’re a man with words now, are you?” He whimpered in pain, sputtering out his apology until she released him with a sigh. “Am I at least wearing the right clothes?” She spun herself once, giving him the chance to examine the details. Though her long sleeves were up to trend, she couldn’t help but think that the motif and shade of her kimono were a little dull. Most ladies her age wore bright-colored ones with bold, graphic patterns as their ornaments. Their fabrics were always made from silk or satin, unlike hers which was cheaply produced from cotton. She would never have let such trivial things bother her if she didn’t have to stand next to him at such a fancy event. She cared more about his reputation than her own, not wanting him to be judged more than he already was for spending most of his spare time wandering around with a lower-class woman such as herself. “This is the best kimono I have, but I don’t know if it’s enough—”

“You’re perfect,” he answered without waiting for her to complete her line. “You’re always perfect.”

She cast her gaze somewhere else, ignoring the heat rising to her face. “Well, if you say so…” she murmured diffidently. “I just want to look equal to you. You look so handsome with your suit and everything and I don’t…” —her voice turned small— “want my presence to ruin that.”

His shoulders slumped forward as he witnessed her usual confidence waning away. With tenderness in his touch, he took her hand between his own. “We don’t have to go if you don’t feel like it.”

She shook her head. “You’ve paid a high price for my ticket, I couldn’t—”

“I don’t care,” he squeezed her hand. “All I want is to see you having the best time of your life. I thought—since you said you often played classical music on your piano—watching a live orchestra in person would gladden you. But if it only worries you like this, I’d rather just spend another hour with you in the library.” He gave her a smile, as soft as the brush of his thumb over her knuckles. “Let’s do whatever you want today. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

He made her heart sing in ways she thought it couldn’t. “No, I want to go,” she confirmed. “I’m sorry, I just… I guess I thought about it too much.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I think you look gorgeous as you are now, but if you’re still concerned about your outfit, why don’t we visit a shop real quick?”

“Huh? What are you—” She was tugged forward before she could finish, forced to hasten her steps to match his excited strides. “Yuuta—wait!” ***

Without taking a second to listen to her, he led her to the nearest gokufuya to find her a set of kimono that, in her opinion, would be better for the occasion.  They arrived with sweat coating their skins, their breathing ragged from all the running. “Can you dress her in the prettiest, most expensive kimono you have, please?” Yuuta promptly asked the owner with sparks in his eyes, taking her by surprise. 

A beautiful lady, maybe ten years above her age, who was dressed elegantly in a white kimono decorated in floral patterns, smiled understandingly at his request. “Of course. Could you please wait for a moment? I will prepare the changing room for you.”

“Yes, we’ll be waiting,” he replied.

Immediately after she walked away, leaving the two of them alone, she clutched her hand around his arm. “Yuuta, wait,” she warned him under her breath. “We should go. I don’t have any money.” Especially when you unnecessarily asked her for the most expensive one. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“Then, we really need to go,” she insisted, half-glowering at him. “What did I tell you about buying me expensive gifts? I don’t like it. It makes me feel guilty.”

“Well, fortunately for both of us,” he grinned, rather cheekily which was a rare look on his face. “I’m not buying you a gift. I’m renting it—ouch!”

She was pulling on his cheek again. “That’s the same!”

But Yuuta, with his cheek swollen and everything, remained stubborn till the end, refusing to leave the shop until she, at the very least, tried to put one on herself. 

The shopkeeper, who introduced herself as Utahime Iori, instructed two young assistants—Miwa and Momo—to accommodate them with their needs. With a polite bow, they led them further into the shop, granting them some privacy from the other visitors. “Let’s just do it for fun,” Yuuta said. “If you don’t find anything that suits your taste, we can go with your old one, I promise.” Not wanting to argue with a nobleman in front of three pairs of curious eyes, she sighed and followed as he said, begrudgingly.

Only just for fun, she muttered inwardly.

And indeed it was. Never in her life had she had the opportunity to try on such luxurious clothing. From silk to satin. Blue, green, and golden. From geometric patterns to feather-like designs—she was trying on everything the two girls asked her to. 

Yuuta sat on the little couch provided in the same space, waiting with his suit jacket folded around his arm and his invisible tail wagging behind him, all in anticipation. She could feel his excitement reverberating even from the fitting room she was in. 

His eyes matched the brightest stars in the night sky each time she allowed him to take a look, gazing at her with admiration so intense, it lit her skin on fire. She always pulled the curtains closed before he could muster his comment, knowing that it would be the same every time.

You’re so beautiful.

Before she could try on the next piece, Utahime walked inside the fitting room with her own choice of kimono. “Let’s try this one next, shall we?” Her assistants nodded, ready to follow her direction, but the lady stopped them before they began. “I’ll assist her with this one myself,” she said, earning herself a polite bow from the two before they excused themselves out of the room.

Utahime stepped closer, causing her to grow nervous for some reason. The room suddenly felt like it’d shrunk three times smaller with the amount of tension brewing between them. In her eyes, Utahime exuded elegance that only belonged to the nobility. She found herself tense under her scrutinizing stare, her tongue tied inside her mouth.

“Raise your arms for me?” Utahime broke the silence, to which she answered with a nod. The lady began by unraveling the sash, experienced hands moving so swiftly yet refined. “Your partner is very adorable,” Utahime said to her surprise, with a slight giggle that she didn’t expect to flow so airily from her mouth. She disrobed the outer layer of her kimono, preparing her for the new one. “Must be nice to find love at such a young age.”

“W-we’re not lovers.”

“You’re not?”

“No, Ma’am.” Why am I talking about my love life with a stranger? She thought, mortified. She followed Utahime’s guidance, sliding her arms through the long sleeves of the kimono she’d chosen for her. “We’re just, umm… Friends.” And it was true. Yuuta showered her with endless compliments every second he had the chance to, but not once had ever asked her to be his lover. And maybe that’s for the best, she couldn’t help but wonder, crestfallen over her own thoughts. Because at the end of the day…

We never truly belong in the same world, do we? 

She expected confusion to settle on the lady’s face, but it never did. It was as if she had known the truth all along. “I don’t think any of you wishes to stay that way for long,” Utahime said softly.

The truth came down as a blessing and torture at the same time. She couldn’t speak for his sake, but she knew exactly why she hadn’t spoken a word about her feelings, even with them growing this close to each other. He was blue blood while hers ran red. When was the last time she heard of a nobleman marrying a lowborn in this country? Never.

So, they could trifle with each other’s heart all they want; they could even own it if they wanted to, but it wouldn’t matter. They would never be together. 

“I keep telling myself not to come clean about my feelings for him,” she confessed quietly. “And even if I wanted to tell him, I wouldn’t know how to… put my feelings into words. For once, I’m embarrassed,” she chuckled a little to mask her emotions. “But, most of all, I’m… scared.”

I’m scared that he’ll say the truth. That the difference in our status is indeed something he can’t look past.

She wondered if Utahime could read the conflict she was battling inside, but if she did, she didn’t speak on it. Instead, like a mother would do to her child, she soothed her with gentle words. “Well, sometimes love can be so grand that we find it difficult to put it into words,” Utahime started, her lips curved up in a delicate smile. “But it’s fine, isn’t it? There are many ways to profess our love even without moving our lips. And a thousand more for us to understand the love they bestow upon us.” A faraway gaze manifested in her eyes as if she was reminiscing a past love. “We can feel it in their touch. We can hear it in their tone. We can see it in their gaze. Love is love no matter how we convey it,” the lady finished. “Our job as women, should our hearts beat for them, is to accept it and return it just the same.”

Her gaze turned vacant as she let Utahime wrap her obi around her waist, recalling every little kindness, every little joy Yuuta had granted her in the last few months they had known each other. And with it, she braved herself to wonder.

Even if it was only for a short while, wouldn’t it still be wonderful to be in love with him? To be loved by him? They were still young, so young. It would take another three to five years before he was urged to marry and—

That’s enough, right?

Even if he was forced to leave me afterward… Even if it would only hurt us in the end… Wouldn’t it be better to love a little than to not love at all? 

I want to.

I want to love him.

I already am in love with him and I know he feels the same way.

Our job as women, should our hearts beat for them, is to accept it and return it just the same.

I just have to… accept it.

“What if I want to give him more…?” she unconsciously mumbled loud enough for Utahime to catch it. He’d done so much for me, things that I might never be able to repay. And if it’s love he wants from me, if I can give that to him to make him feel as happy as he’s made me, I want him to give him so much more than he asks for. I want to love him harder than the way he loves me.

Smiling to herself, the older woman tied the final string, turning her sash into a beautiful, voluminous bow. Utahime adjusted her body to face the standing mirror before her, lightly squeezing her shoulders as their eyes met in the reflection. “Then he’ll be the luckiest man on earth,” she answered near her ear, letting her take the time to absorb the view.

Out of all the kimonos she’d tried, this one captured her heart the most, enveloping her in such beauty and grace that she could barely recognize herself. 

Her body was swaddled by a pretty violet shade that resembled a blooming lilac. The floral patterns embroidered the silk in such an intricate way that once it was worn, it appeared as if her every curve was embraced tightly by an endless string of white roses. 

“You know what looks better on me than I do, Iori-san,” she said, still staring at her reflection in disbelief. Before this, Momo had helped her redo her hair to match her outfit, tying it up in a beautiful braid that showcased her neckline and accentuated her facial features. It looked perfect combined with this kimono. Now, she appeared like a different person, elegant from head to toe. “I didn’t think this look would suit me. I’ve never worn this color before, or these patterns.”

“Oh, it was all that gentleman’s idea,” Utahime answered with a polite smile, her fingers curling around the curtain. “Everything was, from the color down to the patterns—especially the patterns.” She pushed the blind open, showcasing her latest masterpiece to the one admirer who had waited so patiently for her. “So, go on and show him how stunning his choices look on you.”

With her heart climbing up her throat, she spun her head around to see Yuuta slowly standing from his seat, his eyes turning rounder at the sight of her. She watched him swallow his breath, searching for words to say as blood pooled quickly on his face.

“You look…” he mumbled out as if he was in a trance. “Breathtaking…”

And quite literally, it seemed, judging from how breathless he was. The two assistants peeking from the corner of the room giggled to themselves, exchanging murmurs behind their fingers. 

Utahime approached her from behind, explaining something only for her ears to hear. “These white roses in the kimono you’re wearing hold several meanings,” she said, guiding her straying eyes back to the reflection in the mirror. She hovered her lean fingers above two separate flowers joined to form an ornament below her neckline. “A single white rose like this portrays the beauty of love at first sight. While these two right here”—she glided her hand to her left side, stopping to caress the small two roses printed on the fabric just a little under her shoulder— “symbolize purity. All together, they represent eternal love.” 

It was all that gentleman’s idea, she recalled Utahime’s lines. From the color down to the patterns—especially the patterns.

She turned flustered, steam filling her brain, but before she could reply, Utahime excused herself with a bow, disappearing behind the sliding door with a knowing smile written on her lips.

Suddenly, there were only two of them in the world.

She grew self-conscious, fiddling with her fingers. Never in her life had she ever been gazed at so passionately, so romantically by a man before that it left her feeling faint. “I, umm, I think I’m going to take this one, but I promise I’ll pay you back for it,” she said, not knowing how to act honestly even when her heart was filled to the brim with gratitude. 

Yuuta was still staring, mesmerized by every detail: the curls of her hair teasing her neck, the way the fabric hugged her curves, how perfect this color looked on her skin—everything.

She raised her hand over her face, hiding behind it. “Stop looking at me like that,” she grew timorous. But instead of doing as she wished, he took the same hand and curled his fingers around them.

There are many ways to profess our love even without moving our lips. And a thousand more for us to understand the love they bestow upon us.

Her eyes widened as he brought her hand closer to him. “Y-Yuuta—”

We can feel it in their touch. 

He placed a kiss on her skin, his lips caressing against the bumps of her knuckles. They were warm, warmer than she thought they’d be as his hand was always cold. The kiss was brief, but his lips remained close as he held her hand still, doing everything so softly as if she was made out of porcelain.

We can hear it in their tone. 

His voice was an instrument, and with it, he performed endless love songs with her name as his poem.

We can see it in their gaze.

Yuuta blinked his eyes open, and at first, she witnessed his affection, but underneath the tenderness of his gaze and the sweetness of his youthful face, laid the passion of a man, so burned with desire, it left her watching with bated breath. 

He wanted her carnally, desired her as much as he loved her.

“I always thought that you’d look gorgeous in this color, and I’m glad I was right,” he said, his hand slowly gliding to her wrist. The simple, innocent act felt so sinful as if he was undressing her, peeling her out of the kimono to satisfy his fantasy. It was so… thrilling. “But even if I had imagined it a thousand times before, nothing could ever come close to the way you look right now.” He drew his hand away, and she was so struck by it, she almost reached out to beg him for more. Yuuta slid his hand into the pocket of his trousers, retrieving the other gift he had prepared for her today. It was a hairpin—a kanzashi, they called it—in the shape of a yellow camellia flower. He placed it upon her hair, the perfect final touch to the perfect lady. He sighed, full of longing, his hand sliding down to her face. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his thumb skating over her lips. “The only woman I want to see for the rest of my life.”

She held her breath, her chin trapped between his fingers. He leaned close, or maybe she did, she couldn’t tell, so distracted by the words he spoke and the way he—

“I’m sorry to bother you,” one of the assistants, Miwa, who was sitting politely on her heels, slid the door open without knowing. “Utahime-sama would like to know if—Oh!” She squeaked at the sight of them, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as she clamped her mouth with both hands. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” She pressed her head to the ground, cold sweat dampening her face. “I was—We wanted to ask whether you’d like to try on something else—oh, Gods, I’m terribly sorry—” she continued to ramble on her own, completely shattering whatever magic laid between them before. 

Clearing her throat, she took a step away from him the same way he distanced himself, tossing her gaze anywhere but him. 

“W-we’d like to take this one please, thank you,” Yuuta said, face flushed.

“Yes, Okkotsu-sama—understood!” Giving another deep bow, she quickly excused herself, scuttering away while mumbling to herself, “What do I do what do I do what do I do I have no money Utahime-sama is going to send me back to the village what about my brother he’s still so young what are we going to eat what if we get eaten by a bear oh I’m going to die”

“She does not have one positive thought in her brain, does she?” She forced a chuckle out of her despite still finding the air heavy to breathe in. 

Yuuta stood soundlessly, still unable to meet her gaze, not even for a second. But that was fine. She wouldn’t have known what to do if he did. After all—

Suddenly, he called out her name, a little bit louder than he’d intended due to his nervousness. “Y-yes, Yuu?”

He took her hand, holding it tightly between his own. He locked their eyes together, causing her to gulp. “After the concert,” he said, his ears flaming red. “C-can we continue—”

Everything suddenly turned blank.

She blinked her eyes open, greeted by the sight of her ceilings.

When she was younger—many, many years ago—her mother used to splash water on her face to rip her apart from her sweetest dream, but it never, never felt this excruciating, this shocking, this infuriating to wake up before. What was he going to ask me? She mused, even when she still felt disoriented after the sudden change of reality. 

’Can we continue seeing each other?’

’Can we continue talking somewhere private?’ 

’Can we continue… where we left off?’  

What was it?!

Her heart raced at the thought. God, she hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in them, this is worse than having my favorite show end in a cliffhanger. She almost groaned loudly out of frustration—she would’ve if Satoru hadn't been sleeping next to her.

Right. Satoru.

She whirled her head to the side, watching her boyfriend sprawling on the sheets, nearly taking most of the bed and hogging the blanket to himself. Next to him, a digital clock sat on the nightstand.

04.32 am. 

There’s still time before I have to go to work. If I fall asleep now… will I dream of him again? Will I find out the question he asked me? She immediately shook her head, throwing herself back to the bed. It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be thinking of him, not like that.

Satoru, she reminded herself as she lay on her side, her eyes slowly turning heavy as she continued to stare vacantly at the wall. I’m with Satoru. Yuuta is just a dream.

“Everything was just…” she mumbled, her lids drawing close like a curtain. “…a dream.”

A dream and nothing more.

***

[syrupmap]

@dirtyzucchini and @sammaggs amazing meta made me think of how Fraser’s life has always been defined by emotional isolation, shaped by relationships where people either leave or he’s forced to keep them at a distance. But also about how his future may be much, much better.

From the very beginning, Benton Fraser was never given the tools to handle emotions in a healthy way. His parents were unconventional, to say the least. They built a cabin in the remote North, where they lived so far away from society that living in an igloo during its construction was considered normal.

Read this amazing post by @dirtyzucchini to understand just how weird his upbringing was:

And even though Bob was the ideal of duty and honor, he was mostly absent. When Fraser’s mother was murdered (and little Benton must have been present when it happened, right? Where else would he have been?), Bob handed him off to his grandparents.

We hear mostly about his grandmother, who raised him with this almost rigid, self-sufficient mindset. His grandmother mostly homeschooled him, gave him books instead of toys and taught him to be tough. (Note: she slapped Bob in Letting Go. I wonder if corporal punishment was normal in the Fraser household.)

Fraser learned that emotions were something to be controlled, suppressed even. His upbringing was built around the idea that you should never rely on anyone. And that needing someone is a kind of weakness. As much as Fraser’s childhood equipped him to survive the harshest physical conditions, it didn’t do him any favors emotionally. He grew up isolated. Not just geographically, but emotionally, too.

Then there was Victoria. Fraser loved her in a way he had never loved anyone else, and for someone who doesn’t give his heart easily, that was everything. He arrested her for a crime, but he waited for her for ten years, believing that they could be together again once she had paid her debt. When she came back into his life, he let his guard down completely, only for her to betray him. That kind of betrayal shattered Fraser. It wasn’t just a breakup. She broke him. It was a confirmation of the fear that Fraser had always harbored: that letting someone in, that trusting someone, would only lead to heartbreak. Victoria didn’t just leave, she tore his world apart.

So Fraser retreated even further into the safety of duty. It was something he could control, something that wouldn’t betray him. He dedicated himself to his work, living by the Mountie code and keeping himself emotionally distant from everyone. Except for Ray Vecchio. His best friend, his only friend.

When Ray had to leave for his undercover mission, it was just another reminder to Fraser that the people he lets in eventually leave. It’s not that he didn’t understand why Ray had to go, but for Fraser, it reinforced this pattern that everyone leaves, one way or another.

But then came Ray Kowalski.

Ray Kowalski wasn’t like anyone Fraser had met before. He wasn’t interested in maintaining emotional distance, and he wasn’t content to let Fraser hide behind his Mountie persona. Ray challenged Fraser to be real, to feel things in the moment.

Ray Vecchio did this too. Remember that brilliant scene in Red, White or Blue? Ray Vecchio: "The point is, Fraser, he stabbed you. And were you angry?"  Fraser: "I was in pain." Ray Vecchio: "We are talking about anger here, Fraser, a human emotion. Are you human? Because if you are, human beings feel things. Okay? They feel anger. They feel love. They feel lust and fear. And sometimes, I know you don't want to hear this, sometimes they even cry." Which is a bit weird, because he saw Fraser with Victoria and the entire aftermath.. He has actually seen Fraser experience all these emotions.

@diabolicalfiend made an excellent point in the comments: Ray HAS seen Benton feel (and express) these emotions and is all the more frustrated that Benton has decided to hold back now. I don't think that he'd be half as frustrated otherwise.

Where most people had either accepted Fraser’s emotional distance or simply walked away, Ray Kowalski did neither. He pushed Fraser to confront his emotions, to engage with the world in a way that was uncomfortable but necessary. And for someone like Fraser, who had spent his whole life hiding behind logic and duty, Ray's presence was both jarring and essential.

At the end of Mountie on the Bounty, when Ray and Fraser are talking about transfers, it’s not just a casual conversation. For Fraser, this moment is loaded with emotional significance. Ray could have taken the transfer, he could have moved on, and it would’ve been the logical thing to do. It would have been another moment in Fraser’s life where someone he cared about leaves. But that’s not what happened. Ray stayed.

For Fraser, this was monumental. He’s spent his entire life believing that people leave—that the people he loves will eventually abandon him, either through death, betrayal, or duty. His mother, his father, Victoria, Ray Vecchio. Every single one of these relationships taught Fraser that connection is temporary. That no matter how much you care, no matter how much you trust, how hard you try, people will leave. But Ray doesn’t.

And that’s where everything shifts for Fraser. Ray isn’t staying because he has to, or because duty demands it. He’s staying because he wants to. That choice, the decision to stay, to be there for Fraser, not out of obligation but because he genuinely cares, is a game changer. For the first time in a long while, Fraser is faced with the idea that maybe not everyone leaves. Maybe connection doesn’t always lead to loss.

Ray's choice to stay is Fraser’s first real sign that it’s okay to trust someone again. It’s not just about their partnership as Mountie and detective, it’s about Fraser realizing that vulnerability doesn’t have to lead to heartbreak. For someone like Fraser, who has spent his entire life avoiding emotional risk, this is everything. It’s the first time he can start to believe that connection doesn’t have to end in pain. That sometimes, people stay, not out of duty, but out of care.

That final moment in Mountie on the Bounty, where Fraser and Ray talk about instinct and logic and then laugh, is huge. It’s not just about the fact that they’re staying together in Chicago. It’s about Fraser realizing, in that moment, that he doesn’t have to do everything alone anymore. That maybe he can let someone in without the fear of losing them. Ray staying is the first real sign that healing might actually be possible for Fraser. It’s the moment he can finally start to trust again, not just in other people, but in the idea that connection doesn’t always have to hurt.

And for someone who has spent their whole life hiding behind duty, that changes everything.

I have a whole messy meta notes collection of why, if Fraser really heals, he can't even stay a Mountie. But that's for later.

[falesten-iw]

To Those Who Still Hold Onto a Shred of Morality and Humanity - Stand with Us and Don’t Forget Us.

Over 40,000 lives have been lost, with 70% of them being children and women. Among these numbers are my own family members—many of whom I’ve already lost.

My family, my cousin, aunt, their children, and grandchildren were all directly targeted by Israeli airstrikes. I’m sharing a video of my aunt and cousin to reveal the harsh reality we are facing in Gaza. In this video, my aunt bravely shares her story about how the Israeli army airstruck them along with their children and grandchildren. Even if you don’t understand Arabic, just watching her speak will help you grasp the immense suffering we are enduring in Gaza. You can see the vedeo in this post.

The few family members who remain are in grave danger, and I’m terrified of losing them too. We have a chance to make a real difference and give my 24 surviving family members a chance to live.

In Gaza, jobs are non-existent, and nonprofit organizations like the UN have drastically reduced their work on the ground. Basic necessities such as milk, food, and medicine are almost as expensive as gold. My family is struggling to afford even the essentials, and my mother urgently needs medication that we simply cannot afford.

I’m also sharing another video that shows the daily struggle people face just to get clean water. The suffering here extends far beyond my family; it’s a genocide affecting every aspect of life in Gaza.

Thanks to the generosity of those who have already donated, we’ve raised $535 toward our goal of $190,363- august 17th. I’m deeply grateful to each of you, but we still have a long way to go, and I need your help more than ever. Imagine if it were your family—how would you feel if they were in this situation?

For those who have created special posts or reblogged to amplify my voice, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means everything to me and to my family. If you haven’t yet shared our story, please take just one minute to do so. Your voice could be the lifeline my family desperately needs.

You cannot continue to treat human lives as mere numbers. This is a genocide that demands immediate action. How many more should be killed before you all wake up? Will 40,000 lives be enough to stir us to action? 50,000? 100,000? 150,000?

Asking for donations and charity is something we never imagined having to do in Gaza before the war, and it’s heartbreaking that it has come to this. But if everyone who saw my last post donated just $10 or $20, we could reach our goal in no time. If you’re looking for a way to contribute, consider giving up your coffee, tea, or other “cup” for one day, one week, one month, or anything in between. Then, donate what you would have spent to help me. Please help us and donate now!

This is about more than just donations—it’s about preserving human lives and upholding our shared moral values. Your contribution can make a world of difference in our survival and ensure I don’t lose more of the people I love.

Demanding an end to this suffering is a matter of basic humanity. You cannot remain neutral in the face of such genocide. Please, let’s stand together. Enough is enough.

Every donation, no matter how small, brings us closer to hope and healing. Thank you again for your kindness and support. I will never forget it.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed even as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

Important note: ** 105 Swedish kr is just 10$ ** 1050 Swedish kr is just 100$ ** 10500 Swedish kr is just 1000$

Please share !

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[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: III | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,460

—  warnings: mention of death, murder, and abortion, crying, kind of heartbreak, nervousness, a tiny growing sexual tension, and some teasing  

—  author’s note: sssooo this chapter finally explains a bit more about the werewolf universe, and i hope it’s a bit clearer for you. a lot more explanations will come throughout the series as i can’t reveal it all in one chapter. the next chapter is actually my favourite and i definelty can’t wait to post it 😊 hope you’ll enjoy this one & let me know what you think <3  

taglist is closed!

Chapter III: untold truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook spent the rest of the night thinking about you. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He couldn’t believe that you’re a werewolf.

Obviously, you’re not aware of it otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when he revealed the existence of the werewolf word. Normally, you should have recognized him since he’s the king, but you didn’t. So, he strongly believes that you were adopted. That’s the only reason that could explain why you aren’t aware.  

Now, he needs to understand why you were adopted. A pack never gives up on their little ones. He can think of many reasons why, but he needs to figure out what happened to you. He doesn’t want to simply reveal your true nature without having any certainty.

However, what concerns him is the fact that you haven’t turned yet. Normally, around fourteen years old, under a full moon, you should have experienced your first transformation. Maybe the fact that you ignore everything about that has caused your wolf blood to be dormant.

The next morning, he started looking into every record he has access to about the Shadows. The blue eyes are a characteristic specific to the Shadow pack. Every pack has its own eye color; it’s the way to distinguish every wolf. Jungkook’s pack, the Bloods, has red eyes. However, his eyes have a darker red shade. This is a trait specific to the king; he inherits it the second he goes from heir to king.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung, his best friend makes his way inside his office.

The man looks up at his best friend before a bright smile appears on his face. It’s been a little while since they last saw each other. Taehyung has been traveling a lot lately; he said he wants to discover the world before settling with his mate. However, it looks like he doesn’t want to settle down at all.

“Hey, Tae,” he stands up to greet his best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lost somewhere in France.”

“Well, I needed to come back,” he replies with a smile. “Couldn’t stay forever in France.”  

Both men start talking about what has been happening for the last month. Jungkook doesn’t go too much into detail. He only mentions he contacted a fertility clinic, and that he’s right now concerned about something happening in the Shadow pack.

Taehyung, on his side, tells his friend about all the places he went to. He was in Europe, discovering a lot of different countries. He definitely adored going around and discovering new cultures, new food, and meeting new people. For sure, his favorite place was Paris.

“Do you need any help with those Shadows research?” Taehyung asks casually although his sharp gaze indicates that he already knows the answer.

Jungkook nods, his shoulders visibly tense. He’s never been one to ask for help, but this time he definitely would need some.

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” he answers to his most trusted friend.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against Jungkook’s wooden bookcase.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he frowns while grabbing a book.  

“I don’t really know,” Jungkook says. “A record, a mention, a trace of a couple that died or disappeared,” he explains.

Taehyung looks up at his friend before looking down at the book again. By pure coincidence, the book he’s holding is an old one about the different werewolf packs. It’s one of the first books he read; it details the characteristics of each pack.

“A couple who died or disappeared?” he repeats his friend’s words. “Is this by any chance related to a girl?”

Jungkook freezes for a split second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to catch. He’s been very observant, especially when it comes to Jungkook.

“No,” he lies, his voice steady and firm.

Taehyung isn’t convinced; his eyes narrow as he studies his friend. He knows Jungkook better than anyone else, and while he’s very good at hiding his emotions, there’s something in his posture, something in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, that betrays him.

 “You’re unreadable when you want it, you know that?” Taehyung finally says, walking closer to his friend who is standing behind his desk. “But something tells me this isn’t just about finding old records. If you’re diving into the Shadows' history, there’s a good reason behind it. You don’t waste your time on anything without a reason.”

Jungkook sights while running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Tae.”

“You know I’m here, right? Whatever this is, whatever you’re digging into, you don’t have to do it alone.”  

The werewolf king would love to tell him everything, but he doesn’t want to involve anyone at this stage. First, he needs to make sure you’re a werewolf, and only then, he’ll reveal it.

“I know, Tae. I just need to be sure before I tell you anything,” his voice lowers. “Before I tell anyone anything.”

Taehyung nods, understanding that his best friend will share when he’s ready.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll start digging into the Shadow Pack archives. See if I can find anything about missing couples and unexplained disappearances.”

Taehyung’s aunt is married to a Shadow alpha so it will definitely help. As a king, he for sure has access to a lot of records, but not everything. Each pack has its own secrets, and that’s the beauty of it. If Jungkook knew everything, his job would be boring. There’s always something new to unveil. Like your past.

Taehyung disappears a little while after, leaving Jungkook alone with his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace. The shadows dance across the stone walls, but his mind is somewhere else, on you, and on the fragile heartbeat growing inside you. He can still hear it perfectly.

He runs a hand down his face before letting out a deep breath. This was never supposed to go down like that. This mistake was never supposed to happen. But the raw and undeniable truth has already sunk its claws into him.  

How can he turn away from this? From you? From the baby?

He remembers the flicker of blue in your eyes. It’s been replaying constantly on his mind, but what is deeply engraved in him is this connection with you. He constantly feels your presence around him, something he’s never felt with anyone else.  

Even though he’s been deeply sorry to have brought you to his world, this flicker of blue made him realize that he brought you to your world. A world you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. His duty has been telling him to stay away, but he can’t.

The thought creeps in quietly, yet with unshakable certainty: This was never a mistake.  

The world may call it an accident, but Jungkook can feel something deeper, something ancient, something undeniable. Fate, destiny… whatever name it might have, it brought the two of you here. Together.

Every choice and every moment has led to this point. To you.

Now, standing quietly in his study, he feels the truth settling deep in his bones. This child growing inside you was always meant to happen. Jungkook leans against the edge of his desk.

“I can’t abandon this child, my child,” he whispers to himself. “I can’t abandon yn.”

It isn’t about duty anymore. It’s about you. It’s about the fragile life caught between two worlds, and the bond he can already feel forming. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not. Jungkook straightens up, shoulders squared, and jaw tight. The king in him knows what needs to be done, but the man knows what he wants to do.

“I’m staying,” he runs his hand over his hair.

This isn’t just a choice. It’s the acceptance of what was always meant to be. Whatever challenges await, Jungkook knows one thing with absolute certainty: This was always supposed to happen.

For the past five days, Jungkook and Taehyung have been trying to find anything about missing couples and mysterious disappearances, but it’s been in vain. There’s absolutely nothing. Thirty years ago, nothing special happened.

However, Jungkook asked Sungmin, Taehyung’s uncle to meet. Records are one thing, but Jungkook knows better than anyone that there might have been something off records that happened. Some secrets are kept hidden, locked away in the minds of those who lived them.

“Thanks for having me, Mister Song,” Jungkook says as he enters Sungmin’s house.

“I couldn’t refuse my king’s visit,” he replies with a warm smile.

Many people believe that the Alphas of every pack refuse the authority of a king, but those closest to the throne are often the first to kneel. For sure, Jungkook’s natural leadership certainly helps. However, the truth is that the werewolf hierarchy isn’t just a tradition; it’s more than that. Every werewolf deeply holds onto it.

“I could say that I’m surprised, but it’d be a lie,” he admits while he guides Jungkook towards the terrace. “I was expecting it after Tae’s request.”

“I imagine,” Jungkook responds.

The covered terrace is a serene and private space. Jungkook’s eyes quickly scan the surroundings. It’s a little but pretty space. Plates, cups, and a selection of biscuits are neatly arranged on the modest wooden table.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Sungmin gestures for Jungkook to sit.

“A coffee would be fine,” Jungkook answers.

The man takes one of the porcelain carafes on the table and carefully pours the drink into a cup, placing it in front of Jungkook.

“I was originally looking for a couple’s death or disappearances in your pack, but I couldn’t find anything documented,” Jungkook is straightforward.

Sungmin nods thoughtfully. “When do you believe this event happened?”

“Around thirty years ago,” he says.

Tae’s uncle freezes for a brief moment at his answers. His eyes flicker with something that Jungkook recognizes instantly: recognition mixed with hesitation. This is it. This might be the key to understanding your past.

“Something did happen thirty years ago,” Sungmin admits. “But we didn’t keep any trace of it out of respect to the family concerned.”

Jungkook is definitely very intrigued about this.

“The eldest daughter of an estimated member of our pack fell in love with a human. Despite our objections, she decided to run away with him. We all knew why,” he shakes his head as he remembers the sad story. “She was pregnant with that human child.”

The werewolf king listens patiently, absorbing every word.

“We didn’t inform your father immediately as we thought we could handle it ourselves. Involving the king into this would have drawn unwanted attention to this. For us, Shadows, discretion is everything.”

Jungkook nods, knowing perfectly the Shadow’s reputation. They are the ghosts of the werewolf world, unseen and often unheard, but fiercely loyal and deadly when necessary. The Shadows blend into their surroundings, disappearing when needed.

“We looked for them for years but couldn’t find them,” he seems really affected as he recalls what happened. “They were clever. They stayed hidden, and after nine years, we had no choice but to involve your father.”

Jungkook nods, understanding that after all that time, it’s normal to be reaching out to the king. “And he found them.”

Sungmin sighs deeply. “Yes. Your father had better resources than us. Within a year, he found them. Thankfully, this stayed between us and the king. He let us deal with this internally,” he explains.

The air feels heavier now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on the two men.

“They were living in a totally different city. And they had indeed a child. A ten-year-old kid…”

Jungkook notices how hard it is for Sungmin to remember this terrible event.  

“It was very hard to end their lives, but we had to. The woman, her human mate, the kid, the life they had built… all of it was extinguished.”

Sungmin pauses, his throat tightening. For a moment, Jungkook sees the weight of guilt appearing on the older Alpha’s face.

“Killing a child was way too hard, but hybrids are forbidden. A child of two worlds, carrying both human and werewolf blood could destabilize everything. We told ourselves it was necessary.”  

Jungkook grips the edge of his coffee cup, his jaw clenched. The thought of such a decision sits uneasily within him. He’s not sure he would have had the strength to do that. It is one thing to terminate a pregnancy, but killing a ten-year-old child is totally another story.

“Did anyone else know about this? Anyone outside the pack?”

“No, only your father, and now you.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the child survived?” Jungkook asks, his voice steady but intense.

Sungmin looks directly into his king’s eyes. “We are certain they didn’t.”  

Jungkook leans back in the chair, his mind racing. If the child had somehow survived, if they had slipped through the cracks of fate, then everything changes. And if that child was you… He shakes his head, not sure that it’s possible.

“Thank you, Mister Song. This has been illuminating.”

Jungkook steps away, his heart beating fast. There are too many resemblances between this story and your story.

To yn: hi yn, could we meet tonight or tomorrow?

Barely a minute later he receives an answer.

From yn: hi Jungkook, tonight is fine. Same place as last time?

To yn: sure

As you’re walking towards the location you agreed with Jungkook, you try to understand the reason behind his sudden need to talk to you. This is unexpected for you, so it definitely makes you nervous. Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind about the baby? Is he going to pressure you to abort considering the hybrid situation? Or even worse, has something happened? Your mind races through every possibility.

“Calm down, yn,” you mumble to yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a brief moment. The beating of your heart drums in your ears, and slowly, you can hear it calming down. You can’t start overthinking before you even get to listen to what Jungkook wants to tell you. Maybe it’s nothing serious or something you have to really worry about.

When you arrive, you notice you’re the first one; Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet. So, you decide to sit on the closest bench. You look at the passersby walking around you with ‘Tití Me Perguntó’ from Bad Bunny playing in your headphones. It’s one of your favorite songs.

After a couple of minutes, you feel Jungkook’s presence. Your eyes stare at the surroundings to check if he’s indeed nearby. Your senses are right, you see a man walking in your direction. Even when he walks, he has such an imposing posture.

This presence feeling grows stronger as he gets closer to you, and you can’t seem to look away, as if your eyes are glued on him. Weird things have been happening with Jungkook since you’ve met him, and you can’t quite explain them.

Once he’s in front of you, you stand up, a smile naturally growing on your face. He’s incredibly handsome and charming. Once again, he has opted for a casual look: a white shirt layered under a leather jacket completed with loose, brown suede-like pants.

His strong presence near you soothes you in a way you never experienced before. All the nervousness you were feeling minutes ago is completely washed away. His strong and bestial scent fills the air and calms down your racing thoughts.

For a moment, you remain in silence, but it isn’t an awkward one. It’s actually quite the opposite. His gaze holds yours, and the intensity of his eyes draws you even more. It feels like none of you needs to speak. It is as if the two of you are communicating on a deeper level that doesn’t need language.

“Hi,” you break the silence.

“Hey, yn,” he takes a step closer.

By the way he approaches you, you sense he’s about to hug you or something similar. You prepare yourself for such, but he ends up not doing it. Jungkook just stands there, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks with evident concern in his voice.

As always, being around him comforts you. It makes you feel like you don’t need to hold anything back. There’s no need to hide your thoughts and feelings behind a mask. You can be entirely honest, saying what you truly feel without the fear of being judged. It’s part of the weird things you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook. It’s something you never felt with anyone else, not even an ex. This makes you wonder just how much this connection truly means.

“Very much torn apart by the decision I need to make,” you admit.

“Have you already considered one of them?” he questions.

You decide to sit down on the bench, your hands rubbing your face. Should you be telling him that you’re very much inclined to keep the baby? Isn’t it better if he doesn’t know anything? In any case, he won’t be around anymore. He said he’d walk away.

“I’ve kind of made a decision,” you try to be as vague as possible.

Jungkook takes a seat next to you. This time around, he doesn’t seem to try to look away from you. His deep dark orbs stare straight into your eyes. As usual, he’s pretty much unreadable, but he has that soft expression on his face. It almost looks like he truly cares and worries about you.

“In case you…” he seems to hesitate, but he doesn’t look away. “If you keep the baby,” he continues, and your heart starts hammering in your chest. “I think I won’t be able to step away.”

You close your eyes while taking a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be feeling right now.

“I thought stepping away was the right decision,” he starts explaining. “Every time I tried to pull back, I find myself being drawn to you… to our child.”

The word ‘our child’ sends shivers down your spine.   

“I can’t turn my back on this—not on you, not on them.”

As he says those words, his eyes look down at your stomach, where a precious life is growing. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on you. You can feel it on your baby. You can simply feel Jungkook. His entire being calls for you, and your body responds to it by being completely drawn to him.

“Why now?” your voice trembles as your eyes open to look at him. “What has changed?”

This doesn’t make any sense. Almost a month ago, he told you that he couldn’t father this child because you aren’t a werewolf, and that this child's existence is completely forbidden. Things are still the same, nothing has changed since then.

“You said you couldn’t have this child because of the whole werewolf thing,” your voice tone is slowly getting higher.

Jungkook’s face now seems to soften and it looks like he carries an emotional weight. There is definitely something going on that you can’t quite explain. And it’s scaring you.

“I think…” he runs his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve started to recognize. “You’re not just a woman carrying my child,” he seems to struggle to express what’s inside his mind. “I think you might be one of us.”

His words hand in the air, your entire body freezing. For a moment, it feels like the world completely stopped moving. You blink at him, trying to process the enormity of what he just said. At this stage it feels like, Jungkook likes to make cruel jokes. First, it’s the werewolf world, and now, it’s this. How on earth can you be a werewolf? It’s simply impossible. If that was the case, you would have already turned or something like that.

“What are you talking about?” the sharpness of your voice even surprises you.  

Anger grows inside you, but it masks the deeper emotion of fear that you can feel. Your heart starts pounding erratically in your chest as the air grows heavier. How dare he? How dare he turn your world upside down with this unbelievable claim? You stand up, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s impossible,” you say with a trembling voice.

You rest a hand on top of your heart, trying to anchor yourself, but the panic bubbling beneath your surface is relentless. The thought of upsetting the baby crosses your mind, but it doesn’t help to calm you.

Jungkook stands as well, hands raising as if he’s about to reassure you, but as he does so, he watches you disappear before his eyes.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers to himself.

Now, he has solid proof that you’re indeed a werewolf, a member of the Shadow pack.

“Yn, listen to me.”

“No, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “I am not a werewolf. That’s ridiculous. If I were one, I would have transformed or something like that.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t know you were one so things might work differently in that case.”

“Stop!” you scream. “Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Jungkook stands there, looking somewhere, but he doesn’t even know where you are.

“Take your phone, yn,” he tells you.

“What?” you say with evident surprise, and your anger turns into confusion.

“Just take your phone,” he repeats, his tone calm but firm.

Still breathing heavily and with shaky hands, you look for your phone in your purse. You’re not sure why he’s saying that or what to expect when you look at your phone.

“Now, pretend like you’ll take a selfie.”

As you look at him, there is something in his expression that compels you to obey. Slowly you lift your phone, positioning it in front of your face. The moment your screen comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. Your reflection is completely gone.

Your mind struggles to understand what is going on. The town square is visible in the background, clear as day, but your face is missing. It’s as though you’ve been erased from existence.  

“What is happening?” you almost scream. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Your gaze remains glued to the phone, your hand trembling so much that the image blurs. You’re gone. Completely gone. Your hand instinctively goes to your face, touching your skin as though it might bring you back into view. But when you glance at the screen again, even your hand remains invisible. This can’t be true. How can you even disappear? How is that possible?

“It’s not sorcery,” he calmly replies. “It’s you. It’s your nature. Only a werewolf can do that.”

“No! That’s not true. That’s not who I am. I’m human. I’ve always been human,” you shake your head before putting your phone back in your purse. “But I’m carrying your child so that must be it.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“That’s not how it works, yn. I swear,” he’s trying to look for you, so it makes him look like a crazy man. “Pregnancies only bring out even more any abilities someone has,” he explains. “This pregnancy is simply revealing your true nature.”

Tears stream down your face while your heart hurts.

“Have you been experiencing some weird stuff lately?” he says. “Like heightened hearing or smell or night vision or superhuman strength or even super speed.”

Then, your body freezes once more.

“No,” you answer, and for a moment, you hesitate to reveal the truth. “But I’ve always had heightened hearing and smell, and I perfectly see in the dark.”

This all confirms what he says. You’re a werewolf.  

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you add. “I can hear everybody's heartbeats, even the baby’s.”

You close your eyes, the truth violently hitting you. All this time you’ve been a werewolf, and nobody told you anything. You’re not sure Felix knows it, but it hurts to realize that your parents hid something so big from you. It’s your nature after all. 

“You have your answer, yn,” he responds.

Now, you’re crying because the world is collapsing underneath your feet. Your life has been filled with lies, and you’re only discovering this now. It hurts even more that it’s the father of your child who’s revealing this and not your parents.

Jungkook follows the sound of your tears to come closer. You fall in his arms, holding him as tight as possible. He tries to hold you back in his arms, but he doesn’t see you at all. The only thing that can make you reappear is for you to relax. Your emotions are the keys to your powers.

“Focus on the baby’s heartbeat,” he murmurs in your ear. “Focus only on that.”

While tears keep running down your face, you try to search for your baby’s heartbeat. It’s super faint, but you quickly find it. This little sound has rocked you to sleep so many times, and it’s one of the most comforting sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Tudum, Tudum, Tudum,” Jungkook starts mimicking the sound of the baby’s beat.

You close your eyes to only focus on that sound. Slowly but surely, you reappear which reassures Jungkook, and he holds you tighter in his arms. His warm embrace and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat calm you down. He presses a gentle kiss on your head while his hands start to soothe your back. Seeing you like this is heartbreaking, and he hates the fact that he was the one delivering this news.

For a little while, you both remain like this, and his arms feel like the safest place on earth. Even if you hate this entire situation, his presence reassures you. Everything about this moment right now appeases your soul. There is absolutely no doubt that the reality you now have to face is devastating, but you feel like you’ll have Jungkook by your side. And strangely, it seems like it’s the only thing that you need.

Today was a hell of a day!

Everything was simply awful, and it felt like it was a never-ending day. Your mind was constantly thinking about the words Jungkook said. ‘I think you might be one of us.’ You swear you could hear them on repeat all day long.  

Due to how you’ve been feeling, you’ve left everybody on read—even Jungkook. Dealing with this strange reality is too heavy, and you need space. You need some time to digest the news. You need time to simply breathe.

Once you’re at home, you wrap yourself in your Harry Potter robe, lay on the couch, and play the first Harry Potter movie. Right now, all you need is to find comfort in something, and Harry Potter is your escape.

Although the movie is playing in the background, you’re not really watching it. Your thoughts are totally lost somewhere else, somewhere that includes werewolves. You can’t believe that this is your new reality. It hurts deeply that your parents never said anything to you. How could they keep something so monumental from you? Were they intending to let this part of themselves, this part of you die in silence?

Things would have been completely different if they had informed you about that side of you. Maybe you would have sought answers earlier. Maybe you would have explored what it means to carry this legacy. There is a whole culture, heritage, and part of yourself that you’ve missed out on for thirty years. And what hurts the most is that you hate your parents right now. For years, you’ve been hating your parents’ murderer, and now, the tables have turned.

You hate them for what they withheld, for what they never gave you a chance to understand.

This whole journey of becoming a mom has been a complete nightmare. This hasn’t been going as planned. This has been anything but easy. And now, it leaves you wondering if you should really keep the baby. Maybe, you should simply terminate the pregnancy and leave this all behind. But will this be so simple? Obviously, not.

Terminating the pregnancy won’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jungkook came into your life to completely wreck your world. Cutting short the life growing inside you will probably just make you feel guilty for doing it. Jungkook won’t disappear, and neither will your wolf side.

This isn’t fair.

Fairness has never been part of your life. It feels like your life has always been robbed. Everybody has been controlling it, making you feel completely powerless all the time. This pregnancy was about gaining control again, but even like that, it wasn’t. A big part of you wants to keep this baby, and you’re very much inclined to keep them. But you don’t know. Jungkook’s revelation still needs to be processed.

“What am I going to do, baby?” you whisper as your hands naturally caress your stomach.

In the end, this baby isn’t a hybrid one. They’re fully a werewolf. You can understand why Jungkook changed his mind. He didn’t want the child because he believed it was a hybrid, something completely forbidden in his world. But now that it’s not the case, he wants to be part of his child's life, if you keep it.

It makes perfect sense, but the hurt remains. He gets what he wants, doesn’t he? The chance to raise his child. But what about you? What about what you want?

“You’re a wolfy,” you continue saying. “So, your daddy wants you now.”

However, if you keep this child, you’ll have to teach them what it means to be a werewolf. You’ll have to guide and prepare them for a life you know nothing about. You’ll have to learn everything with them; every instinct, every tradition, and every secret. You’ll develop your wolf’s abilities together. This life inside you isn’t just a new life; it’s a symbol of your own transformation. This child represents the end of your human life and the beginning of something different.

Are you ready for that?

You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you want to embark on this new journey. A journey where you figure out who and what you are. A journey where you’ll have to dig into your parents’ past. A journey where you’ll have to face your ghosts. A journey where you might find all the answers you’ve always desired to have.

Jungkook seems to hold the key to all of that. The truth, the answers, and the future. You need him, more than you want to admit. He’s the only werewolf you know, and he might as well be your guide on this.

Even if everything scares you, this is what will help you to figure out what happened to your parents twenty years ago. This is the key to finally getting to truly know them. This hasn’t been going as you planned it, but it has been going the way you need it.  

For now, you’re simply going to enjoy this comforting and reassuring movie before truly facing this new reality of yours. Tonight is your last night as a human, and tomorrow, you’ll start to understand what it means to be a werewolf.

For the millionth time, you check that your apartment is perfectly cleaned and tidied. Jungkook is coming tonight; you’ve invited him over to discuss this werewolf thing. You’re incredibly nervous as you’re very scared of how things could go. Are you going to learn some unpleasant truths about your lineage?

Also, you can’t forget to tell him you have your first ultrasound tomorrow. He’ll probably want to come as he’s expressed his change of mind concerning this child. Your child. Instinctively your hand cradles your stomach.

Before the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you sense Jungkook’s presence behind the door. This thing of sensing him is definitely extremely weird, and you’re not even sure you’ll get used to it. But you guess, it’s part of being a werewolf.

You take a deep breath while opening the door to him. As he comes into view, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is perfectly pushed back, only a strand of hair falling on his forehead. This time around, he’s dressed in a more formal outfit. Like the first time you met him at the clinic, he’s wearing a suit. Only this time, it’s a dark blue one.

And it fits him so well.

A smile grows on his face when his eyes lay on you. It warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile back at him.  

“Hi, yn,” he says.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply. “Come on in,” you take a step back to let him in.

Jungkook steps into your cocoon, his gaze briefly wandering at the entrance. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his long black coat, the movement accentuating the subtle play of his muscles. Your curious eyes can’t help but follow the way his shoulders shift and his arms flex as he removes his coat and slips off his shoes.

A little grin shows up when he realizes you’ve been staring at him. However, you both pretend you didn’t notice what the other was doing. It’s like you’re pretending you don’t feel drawn to each other.

“Would you like to drink or eat something?” you politely ask.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’ve already eaten and drank enough for today,” a little giggle escapes his pretty lips. “I had a long and exhausting meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you simply say. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to eat a bit because I’m quite hungry.”

His eyes inevitably look down at your stomach, the sound of the child’s heartbeat resonating in his ears. It’s such a comforting sound.

“No,” he answers. “Eat as much as you want.”

You drag him to the kitchen so you can eat something while you discuss about the madness that your life has become. You open the cabinets to check what you have, but then, you remember you bought your favorite yogurt two days ago. Without no further hesitation, you move to the fridge, grab it together with a spoon, and start eating it.

While you do that, Jungkook’s eyes are glued on you. His stare carefully follows you as you move through the kitchen. Honestly, he’s glad to be here with you; he finally gets to see you in your comfort zone, and you definitely seem to be glowing in this place.

“Can I ask you what you do for a living?” you ask while bringing the spoon to your mouth.

His eyes follow your hand before looking up. He leans on the cabinets while never looking away from you. Jungkook crosses his arms on his chest and heavily considers what to tell you.

“Well…” he seems hesitant to reveal it. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

You tilt your head, wondering what it could be. Is he working with the mafia like you thought before he announced his wolfy side? Or is he some kind of criminal? Or is it the opposite, like a doctor?

“Try me,” you tease him.

Jungkook didn’t know up until now how much he needed to hear the teasing tone in your voice.

His eyes never cease to follow your hand’s movements with the spoon. It’s mesmerizing, holding him captive as if he’s unable to look away. The way your lips wrap around the spoon sends shivers down his spine. Jungkook shakes his head, pushing away those weird thoughts. It’s inappropriate.

“I’m a king,” his tone is firm, leaving no room for doubts.

You almost choke with the spoon in your mouth. Of all the jobs you considered, this one definitely wasn’t on the list. This is beyond unexpected and by the way he looks, you know that he isn’t joking. You’ve seen his serious face so many times now, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“A king?” you repeat to make sure you heard it right.

Jungkook nods, and then, you can’t unsee it. This entire outfit breathes power—and money—, his charisma is beyond magnetic, and he has a strong presence. Let’s not forget about the unreadable face he always has on. There is definitely something royal about him, and he definitely looks like a king.

“That makes the child in my belly a future king or queen then?” you ask half-jokingly.

“Yep,” he answers. “And as a king, I’m expected to give the perfect heir, so the hybrid child wasn’t really one.”

When he explained the situation a month ago, everything made sense, but now it makes even more sense. This child carries royal blood.

“I’m not carrying anyone’s kid,” you playfully say. “A king,” you whisper.

This definitely changes your view of the situation. Now that he wants this child, it makes them the heir to the werewolf throne. The baby growing inside you will one day be a king or a queen. It makes you feel important but scared as well.

“It’s crazy,” you look up at him while bringing the spoon to your mouth once more.

Right there and then, your heart skips a beat when you realize the way he’s looking at you, or should you say, the way his eyes are devouring you. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you in that way.

“It is,” he admits.

“And what does a werewolf king do exactly?” you curiously ask.

“Many things,” he smiles at you. “I’m the supreme leader of the packs which makes me the bridge between them. If any issue arises between them, I have to resolve them and also make sure the werewolves follow the rules. I’m also their protector. I must ensure the laws are respected and nobody reveals our secrets. And do many other things, but those are the most important ones.”

You nod, wondering if these responsibilities aren’t too much of a burden for him. It mustn’t be easy to be the one making decisions, and it definitely sounds like the entire werewolf world relies on him.

“And you?” he asks. “What do you do?”

A bright smile appears on your face. “I’m an Elementary teacher.”

Thinking about the little kids you see every day simply makes you happy. Being able to give those little humans the tools they need to grow in this world is one of the most fulfilling things. This job has been healing your inner child because teaching those young children has allowed you to guide and give them a stability you never had in your childhood.

“Oh, nice,” he says.

The yogurt is now over so you suggest going to the living room. This way, you’ll be sitting comfortably on the couch while discussing the hot topic. Werewolves.

Last night, while in bed, you were mentally going through all the questions you might have for him. There is so much for you to know about this new world, this new heritage. For sure, last night, you didn’t know he was a king, but now that you do, you believe that he might help you a lot more than expected.  

Jungkook sits down next to you, and you decide to face each other.

“So,” you start saying. “I guess you can imagine why I invited you.”

The man sitting next to you nods. “Your wolf blood.”

“Indeed,” you nod as you speak. “I have a lot of questions.”

You don’t even know where to start.

“You said there are packs,” you begin. “Would you know to which pack I belong?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “The Shadow pack,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “Each pack has a wolf eye color. Mine is red as you’ve already seen, which indicates that I’m the king and member of The Blood pack. The Shadow’s eye color is blue, and for the third and last pack, The Lunar, it’s white,” he explains. “A week ago, I saw your eyes turning blue, that’s how I discovered it.”

The Shadow, The Blood, and The Lunar. Three packs. You mentally register the information he gives you. There is so much to discover about this new reality.

“The Shadows also have unique abilities, one of them being the fact that they can blur into their surroundings.”

That’s what happened to you two days ago after he revealed your true nature. It was just the confirmation of who you are.

“As far as I can remember, I’ve only had heightened senses, but I never came to shift into a wolf. How is that possible?”

“That is something I ignore,” he admits. “You’re the first werewolf who didn’t grow up with her pack’s member. My first guess is the ignorance of your nature prevented it from fully revealing itself.”

You look down at your feet on the couch. It seems so weird that only a part of your abilities has revealed itself throughout your life.

“I’ve tried to find something about you, but I couldn’t,” he admits. “I even reached out to an Alpha of the pack, but nothing.”

“Oh,” you simply say, your eyes meeting his. “Do you think I could meet that Alpha?”

“Yes,” he smiles at you. “I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you, and he might probably help you more than me with your past and even your abilities.”

Jungkook then proceeds to explain how the werewolf world works. There is a hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Alpha being the highest rank, and you only achieve it once you fully master your powers. Logically, you’re an Omega as you barely know what you can do. Jungkook is an Alpha which makes sense since he’s a king.

If you keep the baby, they will automatically become an Alpha when they become king or queen. Things work a bit differently for the royal family.

Normally, a werewolf experiences their first shift on the first full moon of their fourteenth anniversary. The difference with the royal family is the fact that they experience that at ten years old. It’s quite early in life, but that allows them to master their abilities a lot earlier than any other werewolf.

Obviously, the parents and the family remain by your side throughout your first full moon. They guide you through the pain when transforming, and they stay with you while you’re a wolf. Jungkook tells you that the first transformation is very hard to handle. The pain is unbearable and once you’re a wolf, all your human senses disappear. You’re just a beast. A hunting beast. Having your family by your side prevents you from killing anyone or anything. Slowly and with a lot of work, you are able to control that primal urge.

The question left hanging is when and if you’ll transform. If this pregnancy brings out your wolf blood, there are higher chances that you’ll experience your first full moon. But Jungkook doesn’t have an answer to give.  

Then, he informs you that you can’t transform someone by biting them, that’s an absolute myth. Being a werewolf is genetic. You inherit it from your parents, and you’ll give that gene to your children. Thus, the importance of maintaining pure blood.    

 “For now, I guess that’s all,” you tell him once you’ve asked all the questions.

“Since the next full moon is in two days, I’d like to be with you in case you transform,” he says.

Well, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s this unknown about you, and you wouldn’t like to be alone during your first full moon, especially if it’s painful and bestial.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking down.

Jungkook offers you a little smile.

“I’m by your side now, yn,” he places his fingers under your chin to slowly lift your head. “I won’t let you navigate this alone.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You’re thankful that, in the middle of this chaos, you found Jungkook. This man brings so much comfort and seems to have one of the prettiest hearts you have encountered.

“And I’ll support you no matter what you decide with the baby,” he adds.

You remain in silence for a moment, your eyes scanning his soft face. You’ve never seen him this close. You’ve never noticed that little mole under his lips, or the little scar on his cheek, or how perfectly round his nose is. He looks even prettier this closely.  

The decision about your child has already been made, but you haven’t said it out loud yet. Jungkook will be the first one to know, and it makes sense since he’s the father.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you reveal.  

[autistichalsin]

Some of my favorite, understated moments with heartbreaking implications for Halsin

1. Halsin threatening to turn into a mouse in the epilogue if the player brags about his achievements- he's so shy and humble that just being acknowledged for LITERALLY BUILDING A COMMUNE HIMSELF makes him want to hide. A mouse is a very symbolic choice here: not only easy to hide, but also easily overlooked and forgotten. The idea of his accomplishments being acknowledged is so terrifying for him that he wants to turn into an animal no one will notice, instead of his usual strong, large, noticeable bear.

2. "Sometimes, I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." This isn't the kind of thing that happens after one or two people act like jerks. This is years and years of cruel treatment, of his emotions being demeaned and mocked because of his size. Of people judging him before even meeting him- and forming an entirely wrong view of him. Halsin is a bighearted, tender, sentimental man, yet because he's big... Well, big people don't have feelings, surely. /s

3. "You and I may struggle to go unnoticed in such environs, Karlach[...] Folk of our stature can be a lure for drunkards seeking a brawl, I have found," combined with, "There is a particular discomfort to besting one you know to be weaker than yourself - even when needs must," from a different scene. People have sought him out and fought him because of his size (which had to have been terrifying, especially the first time), and he feels guilty when he takes out someone he knows is weaker, even if they STARTED it. How many times has the poor guy been traveling and then had to defend himself against someone 1/2 his size, making HIM look like the asshole to onlookers, and reinforcing that whole "people think I can't be hurt" thing?

4. "It was always destined to be so, if we prevailed. But the foreknowledge makes it no less bittersweet..." (About the players' paths diverging post brain battle), combined with "I see... After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless," if the player breaks up with him in the ending. This poor guy was having the time of his life adventuring with the group (and possibly falling in love there) yet never believed it would truly last (because of his abandonment issues). And then to have it confirmed.... he must have felt so awful in that moment, even if he was being dignified about it.

5. "You came for me... thank you. I feared Orin's accursed smile would be the very last sight I beheld," when Halsin is freed from Orin, combined with, "Orin's blades. I hoped my friends would save me..." If he is killed by Orin instead and Speak With the Dead is used on his corpse. The tone of his voice in the first line, especially added to that bit in the second... he never thought the player was coming to save him. He HOPED they would. Not "believed". Hoped. He thought he was going to die there- just like how he was in the Underdark for THREE YEARS and no one came to save him. And if it's confirmed... Yeah. That. (Sidenote: if you ask his corpse if he has any regrets, he says not telling Thaniel and Oliver goodbye, and not getting to see their land flourish. :( My heart. :( )

6. "I... have not had true confidantes for some time. The Shadow Curse robbed me of almost all my peers, and replaced them with the weight of responsibility. Perhaps that caused me to gild undeserving memories of my youth." Halsin was so miserable and stressed being Archdruid that he romanticized his past as a sex slave, viewing it as a safer, even happier alternative. There were actually times when Halsin thought he might rather be a sex slave than continue to be Archdruid. In a sense, for the 100 years the Shadow Curse was around, Halsin was just as much a prisoner as Thaniel was in the Shadowfell, but Halsin's prison had invisible bars. The Shadow Curse took away his entire support system, and being Archdruid forced him to be the strong one, always, never allowed to be weak or scared, forced him to take control of situations when he hated it, forced him to spend his time sorting out people instead of being in nature. And he was MISERABLE. For 100 years.

7. "You understand me almost perfectly. Only my late mother may have bested you." (Said if you get one question wrong at the love dryad test). He misses his mama. :( Especially when you consider that if you steal Balthazar's "Mother Dearest" and taunt him about it, Halsin disapproves (and is the only one to do so), while returning her gets you approval (which only Halsin approves of). And then the line when you look into a mirror while controlling him, "more like my father, with each passing day..." He really misses them. :(

8. "I am loathe to see anyone behind bars. It reminds me of my time as a guest of the goblins." He is, secretly, still quite traumatized from his time in the goblin pens, but he brushes it off. Just like every OTHER time he is hurt.

9. "I am aware [of having a habit of getting captured]. Perhaps I put too much faith in my skills of negotiation, or want to see good where there is none. It would be easy to resort to nature's fury whenever something stood in my way, yet I cannot help but feel I would be sullying the Oak Father's gifts. Naive perhaps... but I still draw breath." Halsin is aware he gets hurt often because of his desire to see good in people until he has no other choice, but refuses to give up anyway (which is backed up by that letter Gut had on her where she reveals Halsin TRIED to help the goblins, saying he could cure them of their tadpoles, only to be thrown in the cage, with Gut threatening to have his stomach cut open and maggots placed inside it.) Further, even though he is an Archdruid, and one of the most devoted, and explicitly has Silvanus's favor (Halsin says that gaining his favor was the only way he was able to open the portal to the Shadowfell), he still constantly worries about using Silvanus's powers, to the point of wondering if an actual threat to his safety actually merits using his powers. Which... combined with some other stuff, reads like one hell of a problem with self-worth.

10. "At least you were not present. Grim as [the ruined battlefield] is now, it was worse on the day of the battle. A vivid wound upon my memory[...] I was lucky - I lived, when so many did not. It would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost" combined with, "I was [present when the Shadow Curse was unleashed]. Part of my spirit was shorn away from me here, and never left," and, if Last Light falls, "All gone... devoured by the shadows. Oak Father preserve us, it's just like a hundred years ago[...] We are [still standing]. Yet there is a burden to being the survivor... the witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time." He has so much PTSD and survivor guilt from the Shadow Curse. :( No wonder it's all he can think about- to the point that some of the other companions even get annoyed at him for his obsession.

11. "I never quite realised how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove... I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you." Not only does this tie in with the above, with his PTSD from the curse and his utter misery at being Archdruid, but this HEAVILY implies Halsin had depression. Like... that "fog" line hits HARD if you have or have had depression, because that's exactly what it feels like. And the "forgetting who I was" bit too. Not just losing his sense of self to the depression, but to the neverending responsibilities of being Archdruid. I keep repeating myself, but damn, this guy has really and truly spent an entire century being absolutely MISERABLE. :(

12. "Forgive me. I... lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough, it's difficult to tame the beast." With that little disgusted groan/sigh, the fury and disgust at himself visible on his face, and the way he rushes to get out the rest of it- he thinks he fucked up so badly that you're about to leave him, maybe forever. And then if you reject him after this? "Ah... I see. Well, of course. Back to camp then." He has the most heartbroken look on his face here, and the way he says "of course" like he just... knew this was coming the instant he accidentally wildshaped. He felt that the first time he let ANY of his imperfections show, the player would leave him. :(

13. "Death is nature's final slumber - it awaits us all. Do not punish yourself over those lost, or give in to despair - not while there are still folk in need of your help." (Said to a Dark Urge if they tell him they're not much of a hero and most people needing them end up dead) Not only is Halsin speaking from experience here, but it's very clear he is STILL doing exactly what he tells Durge not to do, to himself- punishing himself over those who were lost, struggling with devastating survivor guilt.

14. "The grove has cut itself off from the world, to jealously guard its own little pocket of nature. No one shall ever enter or leave again. And I have been evicted from the very place I was charged to safeguard. A telling summary of my time as Archdruid, perhaps..." If the Grove is sealed and you ask him about it later, this is what he says. Interesting that he views being evicted from the place he was in charge of protecting to be a "telling summary." He was forced to take the leadership role there, and yet it was clear he wasn't wanted or respected by a great number of the Druids (exempting Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis). He got a truly thankless job that took damn near EVERYTHING from him emotionally/mentally, causing him to develop depression and causing him to backslide in his previous healing from his trauma from his time as a sex slave, he still gave EVERYTHING to the Grove, and in return...... almost none of his Druids appreciated or even liked him. (I could seriously write at least five metas about how obviously miserable Halsin was at the Grove, despite caring for it deeply).

15. "You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me." Said at the epilogue to a solo romanced player who went to the commune with him. There's so many layers of heartbreak here. He is still surprised, six months later, that the player chose him. He even thinks the player will regret it, and will decide they want an adventurer's life after all after seeing everyone else. He doesn't think he is good enough- doesn't think he deserves the player, and yet at the same time he loves them so much that he is heartbroken over the possibility they might agree with him. He thinks that given a chance, there is little chance they would actually choose him again. (He is put at ease quickly when the player promises they picked him for a reason, but even the explanation he gives for why he was so worrie is heartbreaking- that he's so used to a tumultuous life that he thinks something must go wrong. He has been so traumatized so many times over the years that he just has almost no ability to think that true happiness is possible [or deserved] for him.) Something about that is just heartbreaking, even though his ending is one of the happiest of any of the companions.

Someone give this sweet bear man a hug, please :(

[menlove]

queer paul tome pt 1: everything not related to john

okay i've been saying i'd make this post forever and it's uh. long. so i decided to split it up into four parts so i can get this first bit out and let it stop haunting me and so it's not 50 miles long.

feel free to add your own if it's not here or shoot me an ask and i'll add it :)

disclaimer: i'm not definitively saying sir paul mccartney is queer. i mean i really firmly think he is but it's all just speculation. also, if he is, there's obviously a reason he's not out about it & he deserves to have his privacy respected. i just personally find the dominant narrative in the fandom & even in larger spaces that poor pining queer john was in love with tragically heterosexual paul completely unconvincing and neeeeeed to be insane for a minute here

if this pisses u off u can simply scroll on by i do not need an essay in my notes. make your own post if you disagree.

(paul doing this for whatever reason in beverly hills, 1974- also the same trip he saw john on bc sure i guess)

this doesn't include lyrics as the main argument bc i saw a post ages ago basically saying there's nothing outside of them and lowkey i took that as a challenge because there's SO much outside of his lyrics that point to him being queer.

that being SAID, this is going to be split into four posts: not john related (most important and thus first bc there's so much documented about mclennon & john being queer, but not paul by himself), john related, paul's relationships w other men (these ones aren't all like... concrete and that's why they aren't included here but w all the context that'll come before it his relationships to certain men are..... interesting), and finally lyrics last bc some of them you genuinely can't just ignore

part 2- john related part 3- other men part 4- lyrics (those will have links once i actually make them)

also, i'm sure people have made similar posts before- i haven't seen them (other than this one an anon sent while i was writing this up which is sooo interesting but does have a lot of dead links) but if you have one you want to share feel free!

time to get into it. i'm avoiding homework by doing this.

(sidenote: not including instances of him just flirting w men bc body language can be read a lot of different ways- but if y'all wanna add any i know they're a dime a dozen like w george m., mal, random reporters, robert fraser, etc)

1- "Just kidding, Linda..."

REPORTER: You're a very, very good looking man. PAUL: [sits up straighter, making a sort of campy gesture towards the crowd, turning into a point] Get that boy's name. [Drops his hand, smiling and leaning his cheek on his hand.] Just kidding, Linda. REPORTER: [unintelligible] PAUL: What? REPORTER: I said- do you have a secret, looking so nice for fifty years? PAUL: [grins, resting his chin on his hand again and batting his eyelashes] Yes, it's the drugs, you know.

(originally posted on here by @northernsongspeels who hasn't been active in a while) this one is so crazy to me. he's so obviously flirting with that man and he's apologizing to linda for flirting with that man. like it's a conversation they've had before.

2- "Yes, boys."

this video (originally posted by @ilovedig here)

PAUL: Yes, I think the main difference is that when you are that age- which I'm sure you remember, Tom- TOM: It's back there in the dim distant past, yes. PAUL: When you're that age, that's the kind of thing to do. I mean, what you're doing is you're going 'round and you're basically looking for girls or whatever turns you on and stuff. So, uh, yeah, I- TOM: Well- well could you give me the alternatives to girls? Are there others? LINDA: [scoffs] PAUL: Yes, boys. TOM: Oh! No.

3- "He's so good looking."

Paul McCartney first read the name and saw the photo (for weeks there was just one crazy photo of Elvis available in Britain) during a free period at Liverpool Institute. Again, it was a friend with the NME, and there was an advert for Heartbreak Hotel. "I thought, 'He's so good looking,'" Paul says, "he just looked perfect." Mark Lewisohn, All These Years Vol. 1 Tune In, sourced from the Anthology TV series by Lewisohn.

4- "A Nice Person Girl"

this fun little interview... (originally posted by @amoralto idk why the archive.org capture of it looks funky but the audio is still there) take it w a grain of salt bc it can also just read as a homophobic joke but like.

August 22nd, 1966 (Warwick Hotel, New York): As DJ “Cousin Brucie” Morrow conducts brief interviews with each of the Beatles, one by one, he asks Paul to settle the rumours that have been circulating in the press about the status of his relationship with Jane Asher. MORROW: Moving over here to Paul – someone just handed me a card. I guess this is… [focusing] Last year, when you were on my microphone here— PAUL: Ask me something about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Rick Sklar? That’s my boss. JOHN: Ask Paul about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Uh, Paul, last year when you were on my microphone, I think somebody – one of your staff – announced an engagement of you and Jane. PAUL: Uh… MORROW: Do you remember that? It was announced on the air. And then I remember we said something on the air and then thousands of people from the street went, “Oh.” What is it with you and Jane now? How – what is your relationship? Are you planning a marriage, planning an engagement, are you just boyfriend and girlfriend, what is it? Tell us the whole thing. JOHN: [mutters; inaudible] PAUL: Uh. We’re just queer, that’s the scene. [uproarious laughter in background] That’s the scene. Well I mean, I couldn’t say that on the air live, you know. JOHN: No, you’ll get into trouble for it. PAUL: No, the thing is, Cousin Bruce – um, we haven’t got plans to marry yet, you know. That’s the point. And that business about somebody saying we were engaged, nobody actually said it. It was just another one of those things where someone says, “Are they engaged?” and they said, “Well, whatever it is… [muttering]” “Yes, folks, they’re engaged!” And it wasn’t true. MORROW: Well, I’m sure there are a lot of girls who are very happy with this. What would you look for, in a girl? Say you did eventually want to settle down, what would you want to – what kind of girl would you like? What would you – what would you like in a gal you wanted to marry eventually, bring home to Mommy? PAUL: Uh… Female hormones. MORROW: Female. What’ll you go for, any – what, blonde, brunette, what? PAUL: Uh, you know, anything. Anything. Girls. It doesn’t matter if they’re blonde, brunette, or anything, as long as they’ve got it. MORROW: Would you want a nice person – what? A beautiful nice person girl. PAUL: Yeah, you know. A nice person girl. (transcription directly from @amoralto, bold mine)

and again this one COULD just be a lil homophobic joke but idk man his tone here is very different and the fact that he says he couldn't say that on air & john says he'll get in trouble is just. interesting. it's Interesting.

5- "A 26 year old queer never to get married."

Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? "Yes, what do you want?" he said, as if we'd just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, "Tomorrow." It went quiet again. "What's this - Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!" We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound. "Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner" by Andrew Bailey, 1970 (x), bold mine

again, like the last one, this one is very... i think he was absolutely being homophobic here, but it's a very telling outburst. like he's yelling this harsh enough to make these girls cry.

6- Harry Harrison's "gorgeous tan"

moving onto this wild quote from many years from now by barry miles about george's older brother (bold mine):

"George Harrison’s elder brother Harry had been to Christmas Island and arrived back with a gorgeous tan in his army uniform and we thought, My God, he’s been made a man of. You used to see this quite regularly, people would be made a man of."

7- gender neutral language

let's get into some interesting gender neutral language he uses. now, would this be Particularly compelling with a modern celebrity? not really. but most people his age really don't talk gender neutrally unless it's to be vague On Purpose. like this bit from many years from now, where before this he'd been using exclusively "girl" and "she/her" pronouns talking about hookups, it suddenly shifts to very purposefully vague (bold mine):

With a lot of those people I met and related to, albeit for a short time, I've mercifully forgotten them and I don't really remember what went on, thank goodness. There may have been a few drinks involved and I was a little merry and, you know, you slip back to someone's flat... My main feeling really is one of relief. You do feel like some of it was outrageous. But I'm glad to have had a slightly outrageous period in my life, as long as it didn't hurt anybody, because I'd always felt maybe my character was too careful. I think the great thing was I never had any deep, dark secrets. That's what the papers wanted. They wanted me to be hiding a little Miss Whiplash somewhere, and for the flat to be in my name. But it was never that. It was always a one-night stand with whoever was around and wanted to party.

8/9/10- the "binary" (ft. a bit of john)

this infamous quote from the lyrics in his section on "hello goodbye" (bold mine) (x):

I'm attracted to the binary. I state that quite casually, but I think there’s actually a lot more to it than my just saying, ‘I’m attracted to the binary.’ Once you get down to the scientific biological level, in my core, I probably am the binary. All of us are probably more binary than we might realise.

context being that when he says "the binary" he means duality. there's a lot of interesting stuff going on in this article, though there's some more john related stuff i'll add here too bc it's super fascinating (sorry, easier to go here than the john section!):

‘Hello, Goodbye’ shows off a binary that we took great advantage of in The Beatles. With regard to John Lennon and myself, the great attraction we had for each other was that we each had a bit the other didn’t have. John could be quite cynical. I was his opposite, in that respect. [...] I think there definitely was a sort of ‘hello, goodbye’ about John and myself. But we loved it. We loved it because John could contribute his caustic wit and I could contribute something more upbeat. Not always, we each did what the other one did from time to time. But if you had to break it down – and though it is a bit crude to say so – there was a binary tension at the heart of our songwriting together.

11- big guys at the gym

onto something more lighthearted and also just ridiculous (x):

"If I'm in a gym and all the big guys have got big weights and they're doing all the big stuff, at the end I do a headstand," he said. "And they come over to me [and say], 'That's pretty impressive man.'" ["78-year-old Paul McCartney’s fitness routine includes headstands and yoga with Alec Baldwin" by Cory Stieg]

12- gay dreams

this infamous quote which i have a bit of a different take on that i'll expand on in a sec (bold mine)

My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. In a way my equation would be that my computer is fully loaded by now. Maybe in younger people there’s a little bit of loading to go, but mine’s loaded pretty much, so what I try and do is allow it to print out unbeknown to me. And I’m interested to hear what it’s got in there. (interview by Karen Wright for Luigi's Alcove, 2000) (x)

a lot of people use this to point to him being oblivious, which i do get, but i want to focus more on the line "it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in". like he seems interested and fascinated by the revelations we have in our dreams- hardly repressed or scared.

13- royston ellis' "break me in easy"

we've all been over the royston ellis poem and i don't want to just retype out everything that's already on this post so go check out @eppysboys' post on the royston ellis poem!

but tl;dr a bisexual friend of theirs in liverpool, royston ellis, wrote this poem called "Break Me In Easy":

Easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure I’m big time, cock-sure and brash, but easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure they’ve been others, I know the way…

which is about gay sex. he also told the boys that 1 in every 5 men was gay and paul worried that it might be him (this was back in 1960). he still remembered it line for line by 2006 which is just insane. all the sources for those are over on the linked post.

14- woody pecker

originally posted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore here (links to my blog bc the wayback machine was not cooperating right but as long as it stays up you can find the original here!)

PAUL & DONOVAN: How to suck a lollypopper, Sitting on a woodypecker, Dancing in the double-decker shoe, I don’t know, So, how do you do? PAUL: I don't know how you do it, Lordy, knows I try But every time I try to do it, My whole darn tongue gets ti(r)ed

this one is just so sillyyyyy and cute but it's just so full of innuendo like sucking on a lollypop and sitting on a woody pecker and your tongue getting tied (tired?) when you try to suck the uh lollypop. giggling his way through it with one of his boy best friends donovan too.

15- "i heard he was gay"

this fun little quote from body count by francie schwartz:

When the rotation of bike, gun, and other diversions left me alone with Billy, his first words were, "You went with Paul McCartney, didn’t you?" "I bet you just love it when people ask you about your father, don't you?" He was surprised, he half-frowned. "No, really, what's Paul like? I heard he was gay." "He might have gone that way, but he didn't. He really didn't dig fucking all that much, if that's any kind of an answer."

note here though that francie is a notoriously unreliable source on paul. she hates him and honestly makes some pretty homophobic digs at him & others pretty frequently. so it is interesting that she denies he's gay, but says he might have gone that way. given how short of a time they were together and how weird their relationship was, i wouldn't really expect him to be open about that with her- still, she noticed something there too.

16- homosexual handbook

paul was mentioned in the homosexual handbook by angelo d'arcangelo in 1968 under a list of famous homosexuals. it's very tongue in cheek and says this "may just be wishful thinking on (my) part"

and obviously not proof as the book takes a very playful and unserious tone. he does provide this little disclaimer though, which i think is interesting:

Some of the men on this list are self-acknowledged homosexuals. Some are not. All of them are generally thought to be gay. However, as many family men and notorious womanizers appear on these pages, we must—rather than question their forays into either or both sexes—congratulate them on their obvious virility.

because once again like... WHERE are these rumors about paul being gay? because the rest of this list, as far as i can tell (ngl i did not do a deep read there) are men who have/had gay rumors about them or were gay. this comes up more in the john post as well, but i seriously need to know just how many rumors there were about him being gay.

17- "the female hordes"

It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, 'Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.' I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes, and I think we all must have given the same impression. There had been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls. (from Anthology)

i know putting one of his "un-gay" quotes here is counter intuitive but listen i have genuinely never heard a gayer thing come out of a man's mouth than "hunting of the female hordes" it sends me to fucking mars every time i read it. that's the most closeted shit i've ever read in my entire life. it sounds like what a gay man would say trying to come up with something a straight man would say. and i think paul's bi, he just desperately wants me to think he's never gotten pussy a day in his damn life with this quote.

as a side-note, "all the intimate moments we shared were always about girls". now what do you mean by that man..... like shared as in verbally told stories? or do you mean it was always about the girls when you guys were...... intimate? because those are two really different things and i need to know what the hell that's supposed to mean

18/19- this poor man just wants to flirt with and kiss men can we let him

okay tumblr has nerfed me and won't let me add any more videos from tumblr but there's a video of drunk paul almost kissing ringo jokingly. posted by @stewy here and as long as it's up you can reblog it here- thank u for the contribution to my red stringing lmfao

pringo for once thank god but. i don't even have anything to say except to point and think of a slur. drunk as hell flirting with your best friend what's better than that.

and then this whole interaction between paul & elton john where they kiss on the mouth

and i could so buy that this is a straight man and gay man just being comfortable together except well see above and see the other posts but also paul's very much adapting a softer, "campier" tone around him and calling him babe/darling in a very, again, gay way. not as in he's gay For elton john lmfao but this is how to old gay friends would greet each other do you see what i mean do you understand me......

anyway that's the end of part 1 join me next time (whenever the fuck i decide to avoid doing homework again um) this man has sucked a dick i'm so sure of this. (not really don't sue me for libel paul love ya)

[nonbinoclard]

>>> TUNES TO LOSE YOUR MIND TO <<<

KEEP IN MIND: This is a living playlist! Songs may be added and removed at times to further curate the vibe I'm going for. I'll try to keep this post updated, but you can just check out the link for an up-to-date track list.

(EDIT: Song discussions are not finished! I have a lot more to say. I'll reblog when I've updated.)

This is set in a sort of nebulous time between Harry's life right before Martinaise and the night before he lost his memory. I wanted this playlist to feel erratic-- full of manic energy one second, then slow and bleak the next, dreamy, unreal, then right back to ridiculous.

(In no particular order. Shuffle for full emotional whiplash effect.)

I Don't Like My Mind - Mitski

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room [...] And then I get sick and throw up and there's another memory that gets stuck / Inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk / And it may be a few years, but you can bet it's there, waiting still

The days before cleaning out the rooms... also, eating an entire cake and throwing it all up again feels very harry-esque... Overindulgence

A whole cake, so please don't take / Take this job from me

End Of The World - Hether

I mean, I could just post the entire set of lyrics as evidence, tbh. Struggling to find meaning and purpose in his life in the wake of heartbreak (5 year old heartbreak, but who's counting anyway)

I wake up in the morning and I wonder / Why everything's the same as it was I can't understand / No I can't understand / How life goes on the way it does

Cane Shuga - Glass Animals

Baby, don't go / I'll stop breathing coke / No more bloody nose / No more John Does Burn through my love / Just like your drugs / I've had quite enough / Or lack thereof

This is about the last moments of Harry and Dora's relationship to me. The chorus (a kind of circular, endless, self-aggrandizing internal monologue likely fueled by stimulants, implied in the song) continuing after the second verse kind of reflects the solution for Lonesome Long Way Home.

"11 Voyager Road. You no longer live there. Those times are gone, and so are those people. Why did you come here? Why are you still here? And where’s the dealer? You have to get back to work. That’s all you have now."

Hot Venom - Miniature Tigers

Hot venom is mixing with my blood / I can feel it on my fingers and taste it on her tongue / It feels so good to fall in love with you

I've heard a lot of people say this song is about heroin addiction, which is thematically appropriate for this playlist, but also. Harry's unhealthy obsession with Dora/Dolores Dei. Adoration (and hatred) so strong it's killing him.

Her venom makes me strong / Stronger than I am on my own / Before too long, I'll wake up to it gone / Wondering how I ever was happy [...] You can't go back now; that's not how this works / And as long as she's gone, I can never be happy

Who Is She ? - I Monster

This is just straight up about Harry's recurring dream to me. Just. Gestures at the lyrics.

Oh, who is she? / A misty memory / A haunting face / Is she a lost embrace? Am I in love with just a theme? / Or is Ayesha just a dream?

I feel like it falls in line really well with the idea that Harry's mind has been affected by the Pale-- a lack of memory, or maybe mixed memories, in a misty haze beyond the boundaries of reality. (and maybe Dolores Dei has started haunting him via Pale? Like some theories I've read.)

Somewhere across the sea of time / A love immortal such as mine Will come to me / Eternally

I Don't Miss You at All - FINNEAS

Dummy - Portugal. The Man

F the World - The Northern Boys

You Stupid Bitch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV Show)

These shards are a metaphor for my soul Won't stop the self-pity 'cause I'm on a roll

This song perfectly captures the inherent melodrama of a mental downward spiral imo. Catastrophic and all-encompassing. This is what I think it sounds like in there (Harry's head).

You ruined everything / You stupid bitch / You ruined everything / You stupid, stupid bitch / You're just a lying little bitch who ruins things / And wants the world to burn / Bitch / You're a stupid bitch / And lose some weight

Oleander - Mother Mother

Intermission - Scissor Sisters

Skit #2 - Kanye West

Self explanatory. He's got no money. He's got no clothes. He has no car and he has no hoes.

We broke, broke broke phi broke We ain't got it Broke, broke, broke phi broke We ain't got it Don't spend no money, ain't got no clothes Ain't got no cars, ain't got no hoes

Nobody - Mitski

My God, I'm so lonely, so I open the window To hear sounds of people, to hear sounds of people

This one is more about the feeling of the song itself rather than the lyrics specifically; I love the upbeat tempo that continues through the song (trying to remain steady, continue working), how the beat is simple at first then builds into a kaleidoscope of sound by the end of the track (overwhelmed by the world), then ending in a distorted loop (trapped in a cycle). This song has always felt really authentic to my own experience with mental spirals. The themes of loneliness tie it all into a nice bow.

I'm A Broken Heart - the bird and the bee

Not Allowed - TV Girl

Party Time - The Northern Boys

Comfortably Numb - Scissor Sisters

(Do The) Act Like You Never Met Me - TV Girl

Novocaine For The Soul - Eels

Basket Case - Green Day

Do you have the time / to listen to me whine About nothing and everything all at once? I am one of those melodramatic fools / Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it

I just think this one fits him well during Martinaise... just shaken up and unloading trauma onto unsuspecting strangers like a can of soda (bad analogy lol), depending on the dialogue you choose.

I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams She says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down I went to a whore, she said my life's a bore So quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps / Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up / I think I'm cracking up Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?

Also it's just a little pathetic, which just... it fits. Sorry Harry.

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

[yzzyhee]

heartbreak girl - sjy

PAIRING: best friend!sim jaeyun x yn (fem bodied)

WARNING: pet name (angel, baby) lmk if i missed anything, slight angst..? a lot of feelings involved, kinda mean heeseung??

WC: ~5k more or less

SYNOPSIS: jake has always been there for you through thick and thin — he was always there to take away your hurt, but when were you going to realise?

PLAYLIST: 5sos - heartbreak girl

A.N: hi everyone i just wanted to say quickly that it’s my first written fic, i have no idea what im doing tbf but i just really really liked the idea for a while and decided to give it a shot .. i truly accept any constructive criticism you might have idm this will probably be the first and last time i post something but ! do let me know what you guys think, it would mean a lot !!

ps. this one is dedicated to my wife @ja3yun seriously couldn’t have done it without ur advices so seriously tysm bb!!

I. “YOU CALL ME UP // IT’S LIKE A BROKEN RECORD // SAYING THAT YOUR HEART HURTS”

Jake sighs as his phone buzzes. Picking it up he sees your caller ID and for a split of a second he doesn’t want to pick up the call. As he glances at the phone he lets himself wonder what a different life would be like; if somehow in another life he could stop caring and ignore you.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath — that could never be a possibility. He’s sure that if that another life actually exists, the universe would somehow bring him together with you and all of this would eventually happen.

“Y/N?” he answers, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Jake…” you manag to say even though your friend can barely hear your voice. “He broke up with me.” you said as a sob escaped from you.

Jake feels like his own heart is shattering. Not for your and Heeseung’s relationship that was over for now but mostly for himself. He’d seen you go through this too many times, always falling for the wrong boys and always ending up heartbroken.

“It just hurts so bad, Jake..” you cry, your voice breaking.

As you continued crying and uttering words that made Jake’s heart drop at how you seem to hate yourself now, he feels like he could punch Heeseung if he were to see him now. Even though he has been there for you through many of your previous heartbreaks and also fights with Heeseung he never heard you cry so bad.

“Hey, Y/N.. Listen to me. Take deep breaths, stop crying, angel, please.” Jake says softly and it makes you stop crying over the phone for a bit.

“You’re more than just a pretty face, okay? Don’t listen to him. You’re smart, you’re kind and you’re wicked funny.. And I guarantee there’s a guy out there who will see what I see, okay?”

You take a sharp breath and nodd but quickly mutter a “Yes” as you realize he can’t see you through the phone.

“I just.. Why does this keep happening, Jake? Why are all the guys I end up with always such assholes?”

“It’s not you, angel. You’re really amazing, you know? Sometimes people like him… just don’t realize what they have right in front of them until it’s too late. He will definitely come crawling back to you in no time.” Jake says in a playful tone but his words held some truth — even through your fights Heeseung always came back.

You chuckle and it makes Jake smile. He hates seeing or hearing you cry, especially when it’s about your relationships and how you always deem yourself unworthy of love from anyone when it’s your boyfriends who just can’t appreciate you.

“Thank you, Jake. Thank you for being a friend. It’s so late right now..I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Jake chuckles as well. “You never bother me, angel.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow at 10.”

Then the phone call abruptly comes to an end and Jake sighs for the second time that night. He knows you won’t call, especially if Heeseung puts his ego aside and comes back to you tonight.

He takes the pillow from under his head and places it on top, muffling a scream as his own mind and especially you liked to play him in circles again and again.

II. HE TREATS YOU SO BAD AND I’M SO GOOD TO YOU, IT’S NOT FAIR

“Okay, enough.” Jake says as he looks away from you and Heeseung’s display of affection. “I’m seriously happy you got back together but I am still third-wheeling here…” he lies gritting his teeth.

To you it looks like he is actually happy for you and just annoyed by your public display of love with Heeseung but in reality? No, in reality he simply can’t stand seeing you act so in love with the boy when just three days ago he insulted you, called you mean words and broke it off. Just for him to come back to you, act all sad, say sorry and you forgive him just like that.

You push Heeseung slightly off you and lean closer to Jake to take his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Heeseung just really wanted to come to the drive-in movie and I couldn’t say no..”

Heeseung drags you back into him and puts a hand over your shoulder while the other is sneaking between your thighs. You giggle and slap his hand away while muttering that “Jake is right here”. Jake quickly adverts his eyes, finding the movie on the playing suddenly interesting.

“Oh, it’s getting rather chilly…” you say after a few minutes and look longingly at your boyfriend, hoping for him to get the message and give you his jacket.

“I told you to bring a jacket, dummy.” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes but making no move of giving his jacket to his girlfriend. “How about you go get us some drinks, baby? Maybe if you move a bit you can get warm.”

Jake shakes his head at his words and scoffs. He takes off his jacket and puts it on your shoulders. “Here, Y/N.”

You smile gratefully at Jake, your eyes softening. “ Thank you, Jake. You’re the best.”

“Anytime,” Jake replies, his voice gentle. He glances at Heeseung, his expression hardening. “You should take better care of her, man.”

Heeseung shrugged, not even bothering to spare Jake a look. “She’s fine. She can handle herself.”

Jake clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to say something more. He hates how Heeseung keeps treating you, how he takes you for granted and never caring. He treats you so bad and he’s so good to you — it just wasn’t fair.

During the movie that Jake paid no attention to , he couldn’t help but compare himself to Heeseung. What does Heeseung have that he doesn’t? Is it the hair, the stupid leather jacket he always wears, the bambi eyes, the way he carries himself with such confidence or the way he seems to effortlessly attract attention wherever he goes?

Or maybe you just happen to like the way Heeseung makes you feel after all. The excitement of the chase, the push and pull, the high and low that came with every fight and every word in it, making it hurt but also giving you a rush feeling.

But he knows you. In the long run you don’t actually want all of that. As he steals a glance at the two of you, he feels like he could scream out right now that you could be with him now. He could offer you love, stability. He decides to push off that idea out of his mind as fast as it came. You are happy with Heeseung for now and that’s all that matters.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, a gentle touch that brings him back to the present. He looks up to see you, seeing your soft smile but when he looks into your eyes he sees sadness lingering behind them.

“Hey, we’re going to head out… Heeseung needs to meet up with some friends.” you say quietly to Jake, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake frowns, feeling frustrated. “You can stay, can’t you? You love this movie!” he exclaims, his voice louder than he intends, hoping that Heeseung can hear the disappointment in his voice.

You purse your lips and shake your head. With a low voice you mutter an apology and start to take his jacket off to return it to him but he stops you.

“Keep it.” Jake tells you offering a smile that doesn’t quite reaches his eyes.

You nod, getting up quickly and follow Heeseung to leave the drive-in movie location. You take one look back to wave goodbye at Jake, seeing him standing there, his eyes locked on you.

Jake watches you leave, the weight of unspoken words heavy on his heart. He waves back, his smile fading as soon as you turn away.

He closes his eyes and looks up at the sky, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The stars twinkle above, indifferent to his inner turmoil. He takes a deep breath, the chilly air filling his lungs, and lets it out slowly, his breath visible in the night air.

In the silence of the drive-in, the sound of distant car engines and the murmur of people leaving fill the background, but Jake is lost in his thoughts. He thinks about all the moments he’s shared with you, the laughter, the tears, and the quiet times where just being near you was enough. He thinks about the way Heeseung treats you, and it makes his chest tighten with frustration and longing.

Jake opens his eyes, the stars still sparkling above, offering no answers, no solace. He knows he can’t keep this to himself much longer. The longer he waits, the more he sees you getting hurt, the more it eats away at him. But he can’t do it. He knows you need to know that someone out there loves you deeply but what if it his feelings would ruin everything for good? For now, all he can do is be there for you, as he always has been. He turns away from the screen, walking slowly to his car. As he gets in and starts the engine, he glances back at the empty space where you had been sitting, the memory of your sad smile etched in his mind.

III. SOMETIMES I’M SO CLOSE TO CONFESSION

Jake sits in his room, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. For weeks now, he’s been wrestling with the idea of confessing his feelings to you, his best friend and the person he cares about most in the world. But every time he tries to gather the courage to tell you how he feels, his fears and insecurities hold him back, trapping him in a cycle of doubt and self-pity.

“Hey, Jake, are you listening?” your voice takes him out of his thoughts. You get up from the bed and go sit on the desk chair next to him.

“No, sorry.” Jake smile sheepishly. “You were saying?” he attempts to play it off.

You roll your eyes. “I was talking about this new book coming up…” you trail off, talking about the upcoming release of your favourite author.

Jake can’t help but let himself watch you. He thinks about the way you smile, the way your soft giggle fills the room and makes his heart skip a beat and the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about just like now.

And as he listens to you talk, he can’t help but feel a sense of longing wash over him, a longing to tell you how he feels, to lay his heart bare and risk it all for the chance at something more.

“Y/N I-“ Jake suddenly interrupts you but his bravery doesn’t last long.

As the moment passes, the words stick in his throat, suffocating him with their weight. He wants to tell you, he really does, but the fear of rejection holds him back, paralyzing him with its grip.

“Yes? Did you want to say something?” you ask him and look up to him just to see him shake his head and motioning for you to continue talking about the book.

And so he sits there, silent and still, watching you with a mixture of adoration and regret, wishing he could find the courage to take the leap and tell you how he feels.

As you continue to talk, oblivious to the turmoil raging within him, Jake can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold you in his arms, to kiss you under the stars, to whisper words of love into your ear. But for now, all he can do is watch and wait, hoping that one day, he’ll find the strength to confess his feelings and take a chance on love.

“You will come with me, right?” you say to him suddenly. “To the book release? Heeseung doesn’t want to come, he thinks it’s silly..”

Jake's heart skips a beat at your words, his mind racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness but also anger towards Heeseung — how could he think your passion, your hobby is something silly and telling you that to your face nonetheless? Jake keeps those thoughts of your boyfriend to himself. However the thought of spending time alone with you again, of being by your side as you indulge in something you love and hanging out just like old times, fills him with a sense of warmth and anticipation.

“Of course, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft.“I’d love to come with you.”

A smile spreads across your face, and Jake feels his heart swell with happiness at the sight. For a moment, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment together.

And as you talk excitedly about the upcoming event, Jake can't help but feel a sense of hope stir within him. Maybe this is his chance, his opportunity to finally confess his feelings and take a chance on love. And as he looks into your eyes, he knows that no matter what happens, he'll always be there for you, ready to support you and cherish every moment you share together.

IV. I’M RIGHT HERE, WHEN YOU GONNA REALISE // THAT I’M YOUR CURE?

“Heeseung, what’s gotten into you?” you ask, frustration clear in your tone as you watch him pace around your living room.

Heeseung stops and scoffs. “Are you serious?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Ever since he tagged along to the the drive-in movie hang out between you and Jake and then found out you went with Jake to your book release event he started to act out. He rejects your ideas to go out on a date, he rejects initiating any kind of intimacy to you — even refusing to hold your hand, something he’s never done in your 6 months relationship.

You can’t help but feel confused and hurt by his sudden change in behaviour. He used to be so affectionate even if you had a fight and was always eager to show you off on dates and such but now he seems like a completely different person.

“Seriously, Heeseung. Talk to me, what’s going on?” you press, your voice tinged with worry.

Heeseung looks at you and steps closer. “You’re in love, baby.” he says while putting a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. “But not with me.”

“What?” you say, your mind racing as you try to process what he just said.

“I think you should give Jake a call.” Heeseung continues, his expression earnest though you can’t help but feel puzzled by his sudden insight. Heeseung chuckles. “C’mon, baby. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? How your eyes always light up when he’s around or how you always talk about him when he’s not and bring him up whenever there’s an opportunity? Or how you always compare what I do with what he does?”

You part your lips slightly, caught off guard by his observations. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, sparking a flurry of emotions within you.

“But… I…” you stammer, struggling to find the words to express the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind.

Heeseung reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says softly. “I understand. Hell, I’d fall in love with the guy too if he were to always drop everything and be at my beck and call. How did you not realise everything sooner? I swear, he has been so obvious the past weeks.” he chuckles. “Actually, did you know he had a presentation on the day you went with him to the book release? He talked with his professor to present it earlier so he could come with you.”

Heeseung’s words hit you like a sudden gust of winter wind, cutting through the air with their sharpness and leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. His observations about Jake’s actions leave you reeling, the realization sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest.

“I… I didn’t know,” you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to process the information. “I didn’t realize he was going out of his way for me…”

Heeseung’s hands drop from your face, his expression softening with understanding. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says gently, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of the storm raging inside you. “Sometimes, it’s hard to see things clearly when you’re too close to them.”

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of guilt wash over you at the thought of all the times you may have overlooked Jake’s gestures of affection. How could you have been so blind to his feelings, so oblivious to the depth of his love for you?

Heeseung leans in closer and kisses your forehead. It’s a tender, lingering kiss, filled with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. He pulls back, looking into your eyes one last time with a strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you, and you can feel the finality in his actions. He turns and walks towards the door.

You watch him leave, your heart aching as he steps out of your apartment. The door closes behind him with a soft click, and you stand there, feeling a profound sense of loss. Part of you wants to run after him, to call him back and somehow make everything right. But you know that some things can’t be fixed with a few words.

You move to the window and peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Heeseung, hoping he would turn back and give you one last look. But the street below is empty, and the cold night air feels like a reflection of the unresting feeling inside you.

For the first time after a break-up, you don’t call Jake. You take the night to yourself, the silence of your apartment enveloping you like a cold winter's night. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and heartache, the echoes of Heeseung's words lingering like a biting chill.

As you sit alone, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, your thoughts turn to Jake. The realisation that he might have deeper feelings for you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve always seen him as your rock, your dependable best friend, but now, faced with the possibility that his feelings might run deeper, you feel an icy grip of uncertainty and fear tighten around your heart.

You think about all the moments you’ve shared with Jake, the late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way he’s always been there for you. How could you have been so blind to his feelings? The thought of potentially hurting him, of disrupting the comfortable dynamic you’ve always shared, fills you with a sense of dread. It’s like stepping out into the harsh winter wind, unsure if you’ll be able to find your way back to the warmth and safety you’ve known.

You wrap the blanket tighter around yourself, seeking comfort in its embrace, but your mind continues to spiral. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if your feelings for Jake are merely a reflection of your gratitude and dependence on his unwavering support? The thought of leading him on, of giving him false hope, sends a pang of guilt through you. The guilt eats at you for not noticing sooner, for being so wrapped up in your own relationships and dramas that you missed the quiet, steady love that Jake might have been offering all along. It’s a chilling thought, realizing how much you might have overlooked in your pursuit of fleeting romances with others.

Your heart and mind feel like a frozen landscape, barren and cold, with no clear path forward. You can’t deny the flutter of something more when you think of Jake, but it’s buried under layers of confusion and fear. You’ve been through so much heartache, and the idea of risking your most cherished friendship for a chance at something more feels like walking on thin ice, fragile and treacherous.

The night wears on, and the cold, empty silence of your apartment presses down on you. You long for the warmth of Jake’s presence, his soothing voice and reassuring words, but you know you can’t run to him this time. You need to sort through your feelings, to understand what’s real and what’s born out of loneliness and a desire for comfort.

As the hours pass, you come to a bittersweet realization. You need to protect Jake from potential heartbreak, to shield him from the uncertainty that’s freezing your heart. You care for him too much to risk his happiness on your unresolved feelings. And so, for the first time, you decide to face this winter storm on your own, hoping that in the process, you’ll find clarity and the strength to either embrace or gently let go of what could be.

Tomorrow, you’ll see him, and maybe the warmth of his smile will melt some of the ice around your heart. But tonight, you wrap yourself tighter in your blanket and let the winter winds of your emotions rage on, knowing that some answers can only be found in the stillness of the cold.

You don’t see him tomorrow. Instead, you chose to run from him, from his feelings and your own. The weight of your confusion and fear makes you retreat further into yourself, wrapping the cold, comforting solitude around you like a protective cloak. You bury yourself in college work, books and anything that can keep your mind occupied. Yet, in the quiet moments — those still, silent spaces between the busyness — your thoughts inevitably drift back to Jake.

The look in Jake’s eyes when he’s with you haunts you. It’s a look filled with warmth and unspoken words. A look that now seems so painfully clear in hindsight. It’s as if he’s always been there, offering you a love as constant and reassuring as the summer sun, yet you were too caught up in the fleeting, cold winter winds of other relationships to notice.

Jake’s feelings for you feel like a warm summer day. They’re gentle and persistent, bringing light and comfort into your life without demanding anything in return. His love is the kind that warms you from the inside out, melting away the icy barriers you’ve built around your heart. But now, the fear of stepping into that warmth, of risking the friendship you hold so dear, keeps you trapped in a winter of your own making.

Meanwhile, Jake is left adrift, confused and hurt by your sudden withdrawal. He tries to seek you out, to understand why you’re avoiding him, but every attempt is met with distance. He feels like he’s chasing shadows, reaching out for something that slips further away with each passing day. He even tried to talk with Heeseung, hoping that the man knows something of why you’re acting this way towards him but much like you, Heeseung avoided him.

As the days turn into a week, the winter storm within you begins to show signs of weakening. The relentless busyness that you’ve thrown yourself into can’t keep the feelings at bay forever. In those quiet moments, when you’re alone with your thoughts, you start to feel the warmth of Jake’s love seeping through the cracks in your icy defenses.

You remember the way he looked at you, the gentle, unspoken promises in his eyes. The realization that you’ve been running from something so genuine, so pure, starts to thaw the fear and confusion that have held you captive. The warmth of Jake’s love begins to melt the ice around your heart, and you start to see things more clearly.

You know you can’t avoid him forever. The thought of hurting Jake, of causing him pain with your indecision, is unbearable. You decide that it’s time to face your feelings, to confront the truth that you’ve been so afraid of. You owe it to Jake, and to yourself, to be honest about what’s in your heart.

With a deep breath, you pick up your phone and send him a message, asking to meet. The anticipation of seeing him again fills you with a mix of dread and hope. You know the conversation ahead will be difficult, but it’s the only way to move forward.

As you wait for his response, you feel a sense of clarity. The journey ahead might be uncertain, but you’re ready to step into the light, to embrace the summer warmth that Jake’s love promises. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that the path you’re most afraid of is the one that leads you to the happiness you’ve been searching for.

“Ofcourse. When and where?”

His response is immediate, no hesitation, no hint of the confusion and hurt you know he must be feeling. The simplicity of his words, the readiness to meet despite everything, brings a small, bittersweet smile to your face. You suggest a quiet café near campus, a place you both know well, and set a time for the next afternoon.

The next day, as you make your way to the café, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The warmth of the spring sun on your face feels like a promise, a gentle reassurance that everything might just be okay. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and step inside.

Jake is already there, sitting at a corner table. The sight of him sends a rush of emotions through you — relief, nervousness and a profound sense of familiarity. He looks up as you approach, and his puppy like smile is like a beacon of warmth cutting through your lingering uncertainty.

“Hey,” he says softly, standing up to greet you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a little shaky. You both sit down, and for a moment, there’s an awkward silence. Jake’s eyes search your face, and you can see the questions and concern in them.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just needed some time to think.”

Jake nods, his expression understanding but guarded. “I’ve been worried about you,” he admits. “I didn’t know what was going on, and I… I missed you.”

His words hit you like a gentle breeze, warm and reassuring, but also filled with a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache. “I missed you too,” you confess. “I needed to figure out some things… about us, about my feelings.”

Jake’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope and fear crossing his face. “Us?Your feelings?” he echoes, his voice tense with anticipation.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Jake, you’ve always been there for me. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and… I’ve realized that maybe, I’ve been blind to something that’s been right in front of me all along.”

His eyes are locked onto yours, and you can see the hope growing, the warmth in his gaze like the sun breaking through the clouds after a cold cold winter day. “What do you mean?” he asks softly.

“I mean…” you struggle to find the right words, the right way to express the tumult of emotions inside you. “I think I’ve been so caught up in my own fears and insecurities that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. You’ve always been there, and I’ve come to realize that… that I care about you, Jake. More than just as a friend.”

There, it’s out. You think as you let the words out of your mouth. The words hang in the air between you, a confession that feels both terrifying and liberating. Jake’s expression softens, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion flooding his face.

“I’ve cared about you for a long time.. I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner,” he admits, his voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t know how to tell you without risking what we have. But hearing you say that… it means everything to me.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. The simple touch feels like a lifeline, grounding you in this moment of vulnerability and honesty. “I’m scared, Jake,” you confess. “I’m scared of losing what we have, but I’m more scared of never knowing what we could be.”

Jake squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promises. “We’ve always been there for each other, and that won’t change. I want to be with you, Y/N. Not just as your friend, but as someone who loves you.”

His words are like the first true warmth of summer, melting away the last of your fears. You smile, a genuine, hopeful smile, and nod. “I want that too, Jake. I want to see where this goes, with you.”

As you sit there, hand in hand, you feel the ice around your heart finally melt away, replaced by the warmth and promise of a new beginning. The journey ahead might be uncertain, but with Jake by your side, you know you’ll face it together, one step at a time.

[scarletttries]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Love Languages (Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Request: "hi! i loved reading your baldurs gate companions in love headcanons, i wanted to ask would it be okay if you wrote headcanons for what their love languages would be? or just how they would show love to their partner? thank you!"

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who sent in requests and reblogged my last Baldur's Gate post! Consider me open for any BG3 requests, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Astarion has always had a way with words, and there's no exception in the way he sings his praises of you. He is quick to tell you how you have won his favour, how he prefers you to any of his other travelling companions, how he looks forward to the moment you open your eyes each morning. He will come up with a thousand sweet pet names to lavish you with affection, her purring voice leaving no trace of doubt that he doesn't mean exactly what he says. And he takes a certain sick satisfaction in describing all the things he wants to do for you the moment you are left alone together, and watching the blood rise up to your cheeks, only making you more appetizing.

- After years of what felt like indentured servitude, Astarion always feels himself falling only more deeply in love when you do him little favours and acts of service. He never stops being surprised when you've set up his tent for him because he could tell he was battle-worn this evening, or when you fetch him a cup of wine before he's even realised he was actually quite thirsty. He's never had someone know him well enough to anticipate his needs, let alone selflessly step up to deliver those things wanting nothing in return but to see him happy and at ease. He can feel himself grow more trusting and open of you with every kind task you undertake.

Wyll:

- Wyll has lived a life subject to many stories, and finds himself weaving a new tapestry of tales with his Words whenever he speaks to you. A simple good morning is never enough, he must soliloquise on and on about the way it feels to wake beside you, and how each ray of sunlight captures your beauty in a thousand different ways. He will wax poetic as you stroll through the lands, letting you know exactly what he admires about you, and exactly what your future adventures together would mean to him. He wants nothing more than to tell you the story that he sees the two of you writing together, every sweet word just another reminder that there's never been anything more important to him than you.

- You can show Wyll how much you care about him by just being there and sticking by for all the quality time he needs. This may include a lot of listening to the heartbreaking tale of his father's scorn, and sitting in supportive silence as he tries to let go of some of the weight he has carried on his shoulders thus far. You also need to be willing to put in the time to learn a dance or two, the retracing of steps bringing warmth to Wyll's heart and flooding him with all the brightest memories of his childhood. And when the dances have your bodies twisting closer and closer then Wyll has another idea of how you can spend some quality time together.

Gale:

- While Gale does see himself as a man of adventure, he is first and foremost a scholar of the magical arts and that requires a certain amount of Quality Time spent with his books. As he makes space in his life and heart for you, he views his time with you as equally precious. He loves that you two can sit quietly next to each other reading for hours, or just swapping stories of your adventures. He knows if the gravity of it all is getting on top of him, he can pass an easy day resting his head in your lap while the two of you discuss what the future could hold for you, giving him reason after reason to keep on fighting and never surrender to ache in his chest. On the rare occasions that Gale has to spend the day away from you, prepare yourself for the most dramatic reunion you can imagine when he returns - sweeping you into his arms, ready to cling by your side as he tells you everything you missed while being apart.

- Gale has heard and read a lot of pretty words in his time, knowing they are often not to be trusted in their intended meaning. So rather than telling Gale you care, you find it much more effective to just show him with your touch. He's a needy boy at the best of times anyway, but with a gentle caress of your fingers over the nape of his neck you can render the chatty wizard speechless and completely entranced. It's difficult to overstate how much of Gale's day he spends thinking about when it all grows dark and finally he can retire into your bed roll and feel your skin pressed against his, feeling completely safe and content in your company.

Shadowheart:

- Despite having little to offer and no intrinsic idea of an item's value, Shadowheart finds herself compelled to offer you small gifts and tokens of affection as you travel together. It might be an especially well aged bottle of wine picked up while exploring some abandoned castle, a bottle she hopes the two of you can share as the sun is setting that night. It might be a resilient flower she sees sprouting from a hillside, she can't help but tuck it behind your ear and marvel at the way it draws out the highlights in your eyes. A cup of water from a glistening stream, a smooth pebble plucked from the shore, a sweet handful of berries found deep in a thicket. Her hand is constantly extending out towards you, with some small reminder that you are never far from her thoughts.

- So much of Shadowheart's life has a been shrouded in dishonesty and mystery, so when you speak to her with only kindness and truth she comes to really value those Words of Affirmation. Giving her your honest opinion, and letting her talk through whatever moral quandary is playing on her mind, will strengthen the deep understanding you share and remind her of the way you give her something no one else has before. Let her know you're thinking of her too, that you care about how she's doing, and you like her no matter what version of herself she is becoming, and Shadowheart will continue to open her heart and mind to you again and again.

Karlach:

- Karlach has always been a helpful soul, even if she's been misguided in the past about who she's been helping. So her favourite way to show you she cares is through Acts of Service, doing little tasks for you and reinforcing that your life will just be easier if you keep her around and ideally very close by. She is particularly happy when she gets to do something for you that doubles as an excuse to show off her statuesque build; reaching something off a high shelf, lifting some heavy boulder out of your way, carrying you in her arms when the day has been long and there's still a journey ahead of you. She feels like she needs to improve your life in all these tangible ways in order to let you know just how appreciated you are, even though it would be impossible to ever feel like you were being taken for granted by this loving soldier.

- After decades of burning ultimately hot because of the infernal engine in her chest Karlach has become used to being a certain level of touch-starved. But when you first celebrate her mended heart by throwing your arms over her shoulders, all that need and want come flooding back in a landslide and Karlach is sure she'll never be able to stop squeezing you again. Show Karlach love through physical affection and this fierce warrior will be melting like a puddle into your lap at the slightest touch. Wake her with a hug each morning, let her fingers grip your hand as you explore the treacherous world, squeeze her thigh as you settle round the campfire each evening. Remind her you're there, and let her cling to you in a way she has always craved, and you'll have a very happy Barbarian on your hands.

[frownyalfred]

I came across a post where someone mentioned that Martha Wayne’s pearls were actually her teeth, but Bruce misremembered or blocked it out…

This has to be one of the most heartbreaking and gut-wrenching headcanons I’ve ever encountered about Martha and Bruce. Just imagine the scene—her teeth falling out instead of the pearls, either from the impact of the bullet or from the way she fell and hit her mouth.

The imagery is so disturbing and visceral. It adds a whole new layer of trauma to Bruce’s memory, making his recollection of that night even more tragic.

Also— I feel like we don’t talk enough about what the Waynes’ deaths must have really been like…

The thought that Bruce might have been splattered with his parents’ blood, or even brain matter, from the impact. .. I feel like the writers never really specified where exactly they were shot or what kind of gun was used, which could have made the injuries even more horrifying depending on the weapon. The unease in his father’s voice—something foreign that Bruce had probably never heard before—from a man who was usually so optimistic and confident, might have been the first time Bruce saw his father truly scared. And then there’s his mother’s screams. In Christopher Nolan’s movies, Martha’s screams still haunt me to this day. The actress did an incredible job capturing that raw terror.

But what really gets me is the time. How long did Bruce stand there, in the pool of his parents’ blood, waiting for someone to come and help him? Did he try to pick up his mother’s pearls, or maybe try to stop the blood from pouring out of their wounds? That time must have felt like an eternity for him—standing there, powerless, with his parents’ blood on his hands, the smell of rot from the nearby trash, the powder of the gunshot lingering in the air, the city’s humidity, and the iron tang of blood.

And another chilling thought: what if his parents died with their eyes open? The idea of Thomas Wayne’s lifeless eyes staring up at his now-traumatized, orphaned son is just devastating.

Anyways, sorry for the ramble… I would love to hear your thoughts !!!

oh my god. yeah…..I mean, yeah. I’m getting smacked speechless by some of these anons today.

I actually saw someone knock all their teeth out once like you’re describing and it is gruesome. seeing teeth where they aren’t supposed to be is horrifying.

I think comics and movie adaptations letting the Waynes get shot somewhere in center mass, away from their faces, by low caliber bullets so they bleed out with last words is a mercy, in some ways.

modern guns could make that scene could look very, very different. I won’t go into them here but…yeah. there’s a reason they die with their faces intact in the comics and most movies, in my opinion. and with a few words or screams, maybe, before they fully die.

but yeah. there’s a world where they both get hit point blank in the head, brain and blood go everywhere, and Bruce has to sit there caked in for a while. until the cops show up, and even then, he probably doesn’t get clean for a while, since he’s covered in the decade’s most haunting crime scene.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Let it happen - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Let it happen - Gracie Abrams - @alessandrahamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: angst with hints of fluff (because apparently that's a favorite around here)

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that makes you forget the world can be sharp and unkind.

I blinked, rubbing the last traces of sleep from my eyes, before the familiarity of the room tugged me back to reality.

His room. His LA house.

You’d think I’d be smarter by now. But here I am, in his bed, heart in hand, ready to offer it up like a fool for the hundredth time.

I shifted under the weight of the sheets, the scent of him clinging to the air—cologne, something clean and woodsy, mixed with that hint of soap I’ve come to know too well.

We’re really doing this again, aren’t we?

I pushed myself upright, trying not to think about how easily I fell back into the shape of his life, like I never really left.

I caught sight of his sweater thrown over by the stool, my shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, evidence of another night spent tiptoeing through familiar, dangerous territory.

The house was quiet, just the faint hum of LA outside, muffled by the walls.

Maybe I should go back to sleep and hope to wake up in the right bed this time. Maybe I should grab my stuff and sneak out before he sees me. Save myself the trouble of figuring out what this is all over again.

But I pulled on his sweater without a second thought—apparently, I wasn’t done making bad decisions.

I tiptoe my way toward the kitchen, half-expecting to find him there, making one of those post-workout protein shakes he pretends taste good. But the space is empty—spotless countertops, gleaming appliances, and a bowl of perfectly arranged avocados I’m sure he didn’t buy himself.

What am I doing here?

And it’s a good question, one I’ve asked myself a million times. What the hell am I doing, letting myself get caught up in this again?

I know how this ends. We’ve been here before. Me standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, convincing myself that I can handle whatever this is without losing my mind.

The house still smelled like it always did, fresh coffee and the faint scent of whatever aroma he insists on using in his humidifier.

My eyes catching on little things as I passed. Roscoe’s leash on the counter, a half-read book on the couch, my own scarf tossed carelessly over the armrest. The one from the last time I was in this house.

A reminder of the life we’d built, the one we let slip through our fingers. The one I’m trying to convince myself we can build again.

Because of course, I’m always hoping, always diving back in, like there’s some magical version of reality that won’t end with both of us in pieces.

Like I can out-stubborn heartbreak this time.

I reached the sliding door to the porch, my hand hesitating over the handle. I can see him sitting on the steps, Roscoe curled up beside him, the morning sun painting him like this ethereal soul. Peaceful. At ease.

Like he wasn’t wrestling with the same mess that tangled inside me.

His hand moved absently scratching behind Roscoe’s ears, and the sight made my chest feel too tight, too full. All at once.

I hate how much I’ve missed this. Him. Us. It’s ridiculous, really.

I should have learned by now that this is what we always do. Like we’re some kind of tragic romantic who never learn when to walk away.

I slid the door open, trying to keep quiet, but the wheels rattled against the track, betraying me.

He glanced over his shoulder, and a slow smile curved his lips when he saw me. I felt my chest squeeze at the sight, and I swear I try to ignore it.

“Hey,” he says softly, like he’s afraid of breaking the quiet. “Didn’t hear you get up.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy this handsome.” I nod towards Roscoe, who’s already trotting over to me, his body dancing like we’re old friends.

I crouch down to give him a scratch behind the ears, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens when Lewis just keeps watching me, his expression open and unguarded in a way that makes me feel like I’m on the verge of falling apart.

“You want some coffee?” he offers, lifting his mug like it’s some peace offering. “There’s more inside.”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’ll get some in a minute.”

He nods and looks back out at the horizon, like he’s giving me space to settle into the morning. But I don’t move. I just stand there, feeling like an outsider in a place I used to know so well.

And the worst part, I’m not even sure which of us is to blame for that.

All countless nights I spent lying awake, wondering if I’d made a mistake in letting him go. Wondering if I should’ve fought harder, stayed longer, done something other than walk away before he could hurt me.

“You okay?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find him softly watching me.

It’s a loaded question, and we both know it, but he says it like he’s genuinely hoping for a real answer.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I’m—yeah. Just...thinking.”

He nodded, like he understood—like he always did. His gaze back to the yard, to the stretch of green that separated the house from the rest of LA, and I watched him in the quiet, studying the lines of his face in the early light.

The very ones I’d memorized, the ones I’d convinced myself I could forget.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? To forget?

Because, here I am, standing on his porch in borrowed clothes, like I’m hoping that somehow, being in his space will help me figure out if this is worth the inevitable heartbreak I know is lurking, waiting for any crack.

And it’s never really been about him hurting me, has it? It’s about me letting it happen. It’s about me choosing this—choosing him—over and over again, knowing full well how the story goes.

And … I can’t seem to stop.

It would be so much easier to walk away. To pack up my things, leave before we can fall into the same patterns that broke us the first time.

To save myself from the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters, only to feel it slip away when reality catches up.

But there’s something about him—about us—that keeps pulling me back. Like there’s a part of me that believes, against all logic and reason, that maybe this time will be different.

Lewis’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and even. “You know, you think too much.”

I let out a scoff that came out too breathy, too light. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Hamilton. Real helpful.”

He chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that used to unravel me, back when we still believed we had time.

The kind that still does, deep down.

“It’s true, though. I can practically hear you thinking all the way over here.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I shot back, trying for a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He just hummed, and the sound settled between us, comfortable, like we’d slipped back into an old rhythm. “I know. But you don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

And there it was, that knowing tone. It dug under my skin, pricking at all the places I’d tried to keep hidden.

Because of course he’d see right through me—he always did. And that’s what terrified me the most. He knew me, maybe even better than I knew myself, and that, that made it so much harder to walk away.

I found myself crossing the porch, sinking down next to Lewis. Our shoulders brushed, a familiar pull that had a hold on me, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself I was over that.

Over him.

I glanced sideways at him, catching the way the morning light softened the edges of his face. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what he saw when he looked at me.

If he saw the same girl he fell for the first time around, or just the mess I’d become since.

“What makes you think I’m trying to figure anything out?”

He shrugged, but there was a gentle smile tugging at his lips, like he didn’t need to say it. Because he could see right through my deflection.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re overthinking everything. And I know that look on your face. The one when you were convinced the whole world is falling apart.”

I let out a huff, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The porch creaked under my movement, and I found myself focusing on the sound, anything to distract from the way he was looking at me, like I was something fragile and precious. “Yeah, well, sometimes my world feels like it’s falling apart.”

He didn’t look away, and his silence made my skin itch, like he was waiting for me to say something more. When I didn’t, he finally spoke, voice soft, but steady. “You think I don’t get it? That I haven’t replayed all the ways we could’ve made it work if we’d just... tried?”

I swallowed, the words cutting through me. “And what makes you think trying again will be any different?”

Lewis leaned back, his shoulders brushing against the wooden steps as he considered my question. His hand drifted back to Roscoe, absently scratching behind his ears.

It was a moment before he answered, his voice rough around the edges, like he’d thought about this more times than he’d ever admit. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t think it’ll be different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. He wasn’t making promises, wasn’t offering some fairy-tale ending. He just looked at me with those steady eyes, the ones that always seemed to see right through me, right down to the parts of myself I tried to hide.

“But I do know something” he continued, and there was a weight to his words, like he was choosing them carefully. “Every time you walk away, I keep thinking, ‘What if?’ What if we just got it wrong, and we could get it right if we gave ourselves the chance?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the hope that his words stirred up in me. “And what if we just keep hurting each other all over again? What if we’re both just too stubborn to admit that it’s time to let go?”

Lewis turned to look at me then, his expression softer than I expected. “That’s what makes it worth trying to me. Neither of us seems to know how to really give up. Not on us. Not completely.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tracing the hem of his sweater on my lap. It felt like there was a storm building in my chest, all those feelings I’d kept locked up threatening to spill out.

I didn’t know what to do with them, how to make sense of this thing between us that felt so much like a second chance and a ticking time bomb all at once.

He reached out then, his hand brushing against mine, a gentle touch that was almost like a challenge. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I’m not even asking you to believe that we won’t mess this up again. But I am asking you to stop pretending like you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

And I couldn’t. Because he was right.

As much as a part of me would argue that I could, should, walk away, that I’d be better off if I just left before the inevitable hurt came crashing down, I still wanted him. Ached for him.

I met his gaze, letting him see the uncertainty, the fear, the hope that I couldn’t quite bury.

He held my gaze, unwavering. “Let’s be afraid together. One more time. Let’s make a mess of it, and figure it out as we go. Because I’m tired, too. Of pretending like I don’t want you here. Tired of acting like I don’t see a future where we get it right.”

And I knew, even if I tried to deny it, that for him, I’d hand him my life.

______________________________________________________________

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[chilling-seavey]

Blue Moon Motel (gr63)

↳ A/N I can't thank you all enough for your lovely words on my first piece of George writing I posted here. Your welcome into the F1 side of Tumblr has been so incredibly kind. Please take this heartbreaking story as my thank you <3

↳ Inspired By Blue Moon Motel by Nicole Dollanganger

↳ Summary: George has decided that his affair with you needs to end but he takes you out for one last night before saying goodbye.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 8.0k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating (George is having an ongoing affair with the reader, gf is unnamed), use of explicit language, fucking without feelings (or so they think), oral (f receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex

G: Booked a hotel room tonight. You free? 

Your favourite kind of text. You knew well what he was asking for and you lifted your phone from your desk to answer;

-Always free for you and I wanted to talk to you about something anyway. Time and place?

G: I need to talk to you too...and I need to fuck you. 7pm. Blue Moon Motel. I’ll wait for you in the lobby? 

-Sounds good. See you then ;)

It wasn’t uncommon for George to book rooms when he needed you and couldn’t get the house to himself. He always booked mid-range where the rooms were nice but the place wasn’t expensive, something located farther out of Monaco and towards Menton in the south of France so chances of getting caught by paparazzi was slimmer. He couldn’t take any chances when you weren’t his girlfriend. The world didn’t know her yet but she didn’t know you and that would have been the main issue if he was caught by the press sneaking you into a five star hotel. 

Regardless, you dressed in your best lingerie and a short dress overtop before calling a cab to the motel. It was a hot day in the south of France and the evening didn’t do much to lessen the humidity, the moment you stepped out of the cab you felt your skin flush under the heat. George was waiting in the lobby as promised, identity hidden behind sunglasses and a casual outfit, and he stood up when he saw you. He glanced around as you approached each other to make sure no one was paying much attention before leaning in to kiss you quickly. 

“You look great.” he complimented quietly before taking your hand. 

“So do you.” you smiled softly, letting him lead you towards the elevators as he tucked his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt. 

George seemed more nervous than normal and you watched as he eyed the numbers on the elevator ticking up to your floor, his hand still snug in yours and his weight shifting from side to side ever so slightly. 

“What’s up?” you asked, tugging on his hand to bring his attention to you. 

He glanced at you with surprised blue eyes but shrugged as the elevator doors slid open, “Nothing.” 

“You said you wanted to talk about something in your text.” you stated as he pulled you down the hallway to the room. 

George stopped outside a door and swiped the key before glancing back at you, “Fucking first. Talking after.”

You couldn’t get a rebuttal out before he was sweeping you right off your feet and into his arms like a bride. You shrieked in surprise but tossed your arms around his shoulders and kissed his jaw through your excited giggles as he carried you into the hotel room.

“What a gentleman.” you whispered against his cheek. 

“Only the best for you.” George gushed, finding your lips with his as he kicked the door closed behind the two of you.

He gently let you slip from his arms onto the ground of the small hotel room foyer, your feet landing silently on the carpet as your lips lingered on each others and you swallowed him up in your arms. George’s arms slid around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer by your waist until you were pressed flush up against him. You could feel the bulge in his jeans against your body and you tangled your hand in the back of his hair to pull his lips off of yours for a moment. His eyes lingered on yours, pupils already dilated and soft breaths falling from pink lips. The way he looked at you could make your knees weak and you scratched your fingers through the back of his hair for a moment. 

“Have you been hard all day?”

George groaned lightly at your bluntness, licking his lips as he stared at you, “Most of the day.” 

“And thinking of me?”

“Yeah.” George bit back a little smirk, his hands sliding from your hips to your ass and he grabbed two snug handfuls. 

You brushed your nose against his and let your lips connect again, lingering there a moment before you both inhaled sharply and tilted your heads to turn it deeper. His fingers inched up the hem of your short dress as his lips distracted themselves with yours and when your dress was up around your waist, he slapped his hand down hard against your bare ass.

You tugged at his hair to strengthen your kiss and his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, shooting shivers down your spine. You opened up for him and his tongue pushed its way into your mouth as he backed you up against the doorway to the bathroom. Your hands dragged down his chest and worked to blindly unbutton his shirt quickly as he slid a hand between your legs. His fingers made you shiver under his touch, gasping out of your kiss as his lips moved down your neck and his fingers drew slow stripes over your panties. 

“Have you been wet all day?” George taunted against your ear, pushing your question back at you. 

“Just about.” you laughed lightly, dragging your hands down his abs. 

“Wanna shower with me?” he asked, his eyes focusing on your lips in your close proximity, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you right up against his jeans. 

Your hands teased the hem of his pants, “Of course.”

George shrugged off his shirt and tossed it to the floor before his hand found its way around your throat and pulled your mouth back onto his. Your hands memorized his body, over his shoulders and arms and bare chest, finally returning to his jeans to pop the button and slide your hand down the front. 

George moaned into your kiss, moulding his tongue against yours as he kept you pressed up against the doorframe and you palmed him strongly down his pants. His hands shimmied up your dress and lifted it over your head to drop to the floor before returning your mouth to his hungry kisses. The quiet hotel room filled with the sound of your sloppy kisses and you grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him after you into the bathroom. 

George’s large hands soaked up your body in the black lace, lingering at your chest before sliding over your hips and ass, breathing into your mouth, “Christ, you’re so fucking sexy.”

You bit at his bottom lip, urging a moan from him while you shoved his jeans down his legs and he kicked his shoes off and then his jeans followed, tossed back out into the hotel room foyer. Your kisses were turning feverous, desperation growing as clothes were stripped and passion increasing with the fiery touch of hands on skin. George’s lips moved down your neck and his right hand pushed down the front of your underwear. It was only then that you noticed the bracelet missing from his wrist. The bracelet that matched his girlfriend’s. 

“Where’s your bracelet?” you asked quietly, watching him kiss at your neck through the mirror. 

His fingers kept up slow stripes over your cunt as his face lifted from your neck and his eyes found yours, “I’m yours tonight. No one else’s.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pulled his lips back on yours with a feverous desire that made him chuckle lightly. His fingers worked a bit faster between your legs, finally rubbing lazily at your clit until you were grinding onto his hand. 

“I need you.” you breathed into his mouth, pulling lightly at his hair to keep his lips on yours. “Please, sir.” 

A soft groan came from George’s throat and he yanked your panties down your thighs. 

“Strip.” he ordered. 

You did as told while he turned on the shower and set it to a comfortable temperature, turning back to you only to find you naked and waiting. Your hands were on your chest, tweaking at your hardening nipples, and George smacked your hands away. 

“Lemmy see your pretty tits.” 

You bit your lip at his vulgarity, always liking to see how filthy his usual polite and gentlemanly demeanor could turn. His hands were on you in an instant, forcing you to lean back against the bathroom counter as his mouth found your left breast first, tonguing at your nipple before sucking at it for a moment and doing the same to the opposite one. The tent in his boxers was massive and you played with the thick shape of his dick through the fabric ever so gently as he licked back up your neck and nipped at your earlobe. 

“Feel how fucking hard you make me, baby?” George whispered. “Just need to fuck you so bad.” 

“So do it.” you taunted. 

“In the shower, pretty little whore. Gonna show you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He left you with a spank as you slunk past him and helped yourself to the warm shower. You held your head back under the stream of water and soaked yourself up as George watched for a moment from in front of the counter. He dropped his underwear and you gave him a little show as he stroked himself off a little, his eyes lingering on the water cascading down your bare body and over every curve. You let your hands trail your figure until he was stepping in behind you and taking your place. 

“Little slut…putting on a show for me, huh?” George breathed against your ear as his hands rubbed over your hips. You could feel his dick pressed up against your ass and you pushed back on him impatiently. 

He adjusted the stream of water, soaking both of you, before shifting it to the side again and ran a hand over his wet hair. He bent you forward and you set your hands flat against the tile wall, ass out and back slightly arched, and he slapped his hand down against your flesh. You gasped lightly, the water on your skin only increasing the sound of his spanks as he did it again. 

“Fuck me.” you choked out. “Please just fuck me, sir.” 

George shuffled up behind you and you spread your feet slightly to give him room to tuck himself between your legs. The feeling of his dick grazing over your folds had you fluttering and he could feel it, his hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair as his other slowly pushed himself inside you. 

Your mouth dropped open as the stretch, easing back on him so he bottomed out quicker, and your eyes fell shut as he filled you completely. George groaned lowly, gripping your wet hair in one hand and your hip in the other, focusing on the limited space between you and how he fit inside you so perfectly. 

He stayed still for a moment as if to compose himself but you started fucking yourself back onto him, rocking forward and back in messy motions to get him going, only making yourself moan desperately. 

George slapped his hand down against your ass, “Yeah. That’s my girl.”

His praise made you flush pink and you groaned excitedly as he yanked at your hair and shoved right into you. You gasped, grabbing onto the shower wall the best you could as he started thrusting into you, giving you everything before pulling out almost all the way and then moving back in. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed, “Shit...you’re so fucking big-”

“Yeah?” George chuckled against your neck, keeping up his strong steady thrusts, “Where do you feel me?”

“So deep.” you groaned softly. 

“Yeah?” George tightened his grip in your hair and picked up speed, shoving into you a bit faster. 

“Oh God.” you cried, hands streaking down the shower wall as he fucked you harder and you couldn’t help but push back on him in time with his motions. 

“Good girl.” George spanked you again before grabbing a handful of your ass and made sure you were pulled open so he could fit in as deep as he could go. The warm water only increased the sound of his skin slapping against yours, his hands holding you in place so he could fuck you how he wanted and you shoved back on him each time. “God, you’re such a fucking slut.” 

“George-” you cried out as he slid his hand around the front of your neck and then really started going to town, shoving into you roughly until you were falling silent. 

“Good girl.” he growled against your ear. “Take it. Fucking take it.” 

You squealed softly, hands squeaking against the tile wall in your desperate attempt to keep yourself steady, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-” 

His fingers pushed their way into your mouth to keep you quiet and you moaned around them, eyes falling shut as he had his way with you and was nearly choking you with his two fingers. But he slowed down almost just as quickly, making you whine around his fingers as he went back to strong deep thrusts that pushed you to slump forward against the shower wall again. His hand slid down your neck and grabbed your breast in his palm before finding your hip. 

“I love this fucking pussy.” George breathed, bending over you to kiss between your shoulder blades as he thrusted into you slowly but strongly, guiding your hips with his hands. His eyes dropped between you to watch as he pushed inside you and rolled your hips back onto him each time, creating a perfect rhythm with your wet bodies. He gripped the flesh of your hip so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises, fingers pressing into your skin as he tugged you back on his dick again and again. 

He stretched you out so well and it always managed to take your breath away no matter how many times you had snuck off together. The warm water only added to the sensations, slicking you up so as he sped up the small hotel bathroom was filling with the steady slap of his skin on yours. Faster, faster, faster, George’s hands gripped tighter to your waist and you could only bend over more for him, slumping against the wall as he shoved deep inside you again and again until all you could do was take it. 

“Please.” you sobbed, “Please don’t stop!” 

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” George breathed, his words almost muffled by the shower and the wet clapping of his skin on yours. 

“Yessir.” you whimpered.  

“Yeah?” he taunted through his teeth, “You think you deserve to cum? Beg.”

“Please, please, please make me cum.” you cried, tears brimming in your eyes at the overwhelm. 

His left hand gathered your wrists under his grasp and pinned your hands to the shower wall as his right kept you close so he could keep pounding into you. The restraint of it all had you whining loudly, head tilting back until the stream from the shower hit your chest and he spanked you hard. 

“Please, sir!” you nearly shrieked, feeling your stomach ache with need. “Please, I wanna cum for you!”

“You’re gonna cum when I tell you.” George ordered. 

“Yeah.” you whined in tired agreement, already starting to feel your muscles clenching around him in desperation. 

“Good girl.” George fucked into you harder, letting his teeth find your shoulder as he chased his orgasm and his hand that had been holding yours against the wall found your hair again and gave it a good yank. 

You cried out, welcoming his lips on your neck as he groaned against your flushed skin and your legs were starting to tremble. You bit down on your bottom lip, fucking yourself back on him as you tried to hold yourself back the best you could until he gave you permission. It was one of the things he liked best about you; you always listened. It's what you were there for, after all; to give him what he wanted.

“Ready, baby girl?” George whispered against your ear. “Cum with me.”

“Yes. Come inside me.” you begged shakily, desperate to finish him off, “Please, sir. Please, I want it.” 

“That’s my girl. Listen to you fucking beg. Ready?” George panted as he let go of your hair and gripped your hips and fucked you harder and rougher as his groans moulded into pitchy moans and you could feel him twitching inside you. “Now. Cum.”

In seconds, with one more rough tug of your body back onto him, he came deep inside you, grunting lowly against your skin and digging his nails down into your flesh. 

“Oh God…” you whined breathily, squealing in overwhelm as you came with him, vision blurring around the edges as he shot pleasure through every nerve in your body. You could only sob out a few more “yeses” through it, pulsing down around him as he gave you a few lazy thrusts through his heavy breaths and small groans. 

He kept his hands on your hips as he pulled out slowly, watching the thick white cream drip filthily out of you and onto the shower floor to be washed away by the water. He smacked his hand down on your ass before sliding a hand between your legs to finger the rest of his cum back inside you, making sure to graze his thumb over your clit to make you flinch. 

“That’s my good girl.” George praised, his voice drowned out by the water but he gently pulled you from the wall so your back was pressed up to his chest. He rested your head back against his shoulder so he could look at your face as your wet chest heaved with breathlessness. 

Your eyes lingered on his features, how the water cascaded down his cheeks and soaked his hair over his forehead…you could have stayed there forever with his arms around your waist and his body pressed up to yours. His lips found your jaw and left a soft kiss there before focusing back on your face and let a little smirk tug at his mouth. 

“Your makeup is ruined.” he whispered. 

“Mm…whose fault is that?” you laughed lightly. 

“Yours. For begging for it.” George teased. 

He slid his hands into yours and you laced your fingers together, letting the water run over the both of you for a moment as he held you against his chest and left kisses over your neck. After a moment he turned you around to face him and he wiped the streaked mascara from your cheeks and under your eyes and brushed your wet hair from your face. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you, taking in your face and your body like you were unfamiliar to him, his large hands not leaving your skin for long if at all. 

“We can’t see each other anymore.” 

The words he spoke were gentle in tone but felt like they were physically stabbed right through your lungs. Your eyebrows furrowed a moment as you stared at him and his downcast gaze, your hands resting haphazardly against his chest. 

“What?” you breathed out. 

George sighed and reached behind you to turn off the shower and he grabbed a towel from the rack to wrap around your shoulders before he explained himself, “I just…don’t think that this is fair to anyone anymore.” 

“It was never fair to anyone...George...what-” you took a moment to try and gather your thoughts, “What is making you say this? Does she know about us?”

“No. No, she doesn’t.”

“Then what?” you shivered slightly under his hazy gaze and the water that was drying over your bare skin. He didn’t answer for a moment so you added a, “Huh?”

“Baby,” George sighed, reaching to rub the towel over your arms to warm you up.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me.” you spoke softly, voice quivering, as you stepped out of the shower and onto the bathmat over the floor. 

George followed and you glanced at his reflection through the mirror as you dried yourself off and gave a few extra swipes between your legs, mopping up the warm cum that was still slowly dripping out of you. George trailed his hand down your spine as he grabbed a second towel for himself, “I really like being with you.”

You didn’t answer him, simply dried yourself off beside him in silence. 

“I just…we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep this a secret any longer…not with Alex and Lando and whoever else knowing now…and we’re getting far too risky…” 

You wrapped the towel around your body and faced him with a flat expression, “So what the fuck is this? This hotel room? Fucking me raw in the shower?”

“I wanted to make our last night special.” George shrugged, tracing your collarbones with his hand. The hand that was missing the bracelet. “Because I know you have feelings for-“

“Stop. Don’t.” you cut him off. “Don’t say that shit.” 

George stayed quiet for a moment. 

So did you. 

“Let me give you one night.” he finally whispered. “One night where I’m yours. Only yours. I don’t want to end like this…in an argument…we deserve better after these last few months.” 

You just stared to the side, trying to keep the tears from spilling; not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was breaking your heart. 

George’s hand slid up the side of your neck and took your chin in his grasp to turn you to face him. “Look at me.” he spoke gently. 

You slowly raised your eyes to his. He was standing so closely you could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek and his lashes brushed over your cheek. His lips ghosted yours and you habitually let yours linger on his in a feather soft hesitant kiss. The hotel room was silent as his lips shifted smoother onto yours, capturing them in an ever so gentle kiss that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. George’s hand on your chin guided you through another faint kiss as if testing the waters and you couldn’t help but give into him. You always gave into him. 

Your hands slid up his bare chest and around his shoulders, welcoming his slow passionate kisses as his tongue found its way into your mouth. George moved slowly, grabbing the towel that was wrapped around you and pulled it from your body and onto the floor. With his hands on your bare skin, the fire of his touch was back in full force and you couldn’t help but shuffle closer to him. 

George nipped teasingly at your bottom lip between kisses as his large hands slid down your back and to your ass and finally to your thighs. He crouched down just enough to lift you right up off the ground and into his arms all without breaking your deep kisses. Your legs wrapped around his waist with ease, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair to keep his lips on yours, and he carried you out of the bathroom and over to the king size bed. 

Freshly showered and skin still pink from the hot water and the warm up you had, George knelt up on the end of the bed and then leaned forward to gently lay you down on the mattress, following right after you to keep his lips on yours. His hands shuffled under the back of your head and he fanned out your damp hair over the pillows as his lips moved down your neck. His touch alone was electrifying and he cradled the back of your neck as his lips left open mouthed kisses over your warm skin. His hands followed his lips, trailing down your shoulders and collarbones and down to your chest, kissing and groping and licking at your flesh until your breathing was starting to fall heavy. 

“Your tits look so fucking pretty tonight, baby.” George breathed, nearly nuzzling himself between them as his hands worked them gently. Your soft gasp when his thumb grazed your nipple had him smirking and he sucked over one and then the other, teasing them with his teeth until they were nice and hard and your hand was finding its way into his damp hair. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

You sighed shakily as he continued down your body, kissing wetly down to your bellybutton and over your hips, slowing tauntingly as his hands spread your legs for him. You watched him carefully as he situated himself between your legs and linked his arms under your thighs, letting a thick string of drool fall from his lips and onto your folds. George’s tongue followed it, brushing ever so gently over your body but still made you flinch and grab his hair. 

He pulled back, soaking up how you looked spread for him, pussy still wet from his prior attack on your body and the faint signs of bruising over your hips had him biting back a smirk. He trailed a finger down over your folds, watching your wetness cling to his finger and he spread you open to see the traces of white left behind inside you and slowly dripping out still. George groaned lowly and kept you spread between two fingers so he could slip his tongue inside you teasingly. You gasped lightly but he pulled back just as quickly, kissing over your cunt until you were starting to grind up against his face, desperate for his touch. 

Whimpering quietly, you kept one hand tangled in his hair and rolled your hips against his face and he just opened up wider for you, giving you sloppy open mouthed kisses with just enough tongue to have you quivering with desire. 

“Please, sir.” you whimpered ever so quietly, staring down at him with a pretty pout that made him shutter. 

He hummed, sliding his tongue up between your legs before pushing it inside you slowly. 

“Yeah.” you breathed out, letting your body focus on him and nothing but the pleasure he so easily could give you. 

George fucked you slowly with his tongue, lapping up your arousal and his own cum that was still left over from your hookup in the shower. He did so without hesitation, moaning softly against your skin as he nuzzled his face deeper between your thighs and ate you out like heaven. He worked slowly, licking and slurping and savouring each and every part of you until your head was falling back against the pillows with bliss. 

The hotel room was perfectly silent, almost eerily silent, except for the faint sound of traffic outside behind your heavy breaths and his wet tongue. George kept his eyes on you, keeping your lips spread so his tongue could have easy access and he dragged it up and down your folds slowly and then faster and faster to make you squirm. 

“Sir-“ you shuttered, grinding up against his face some more. “Please-“

His hands kept you in place by your thigh and your lower stomach, holding you down on the mattress as he had you as he pleased. Usually your hookups were rushed and quiet and often mostly about him - your purpose after all was to give him the sexual pleasure she couldn’t - but this time, he took his time with you, reaching every single nerve in your body without even touching your clit yet. You felt on fire, breathless, blissful, and hungry for more of him. You couldn’t think about the fact that this was your last time when he could so easily melt you down with a flick of his tongue. 

George’s large hands moved to your thighs and pushed you open wider, feet flat on the bed and legs parted nice and far to keep you spread wide for him. 

“Look at this gorgeous fucking pussy.” George breathed, leaving taunting kisses over your inner thighs before brushing his nose ever so gently against your cunt. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. Who did this to you?”

“Always you, sir.” you whispered, massaging your one hand through his damp hair. 

He chuckled against you, the vibrations felt right up against your body and you inhaled sharply, especially as he finally dragged his tongue over your clit. You whimpered loudly, scrunching your eyes closed. 

“Good girl. Feel it.” 

His tongue dragged in slow stripes over your clit, just enough to make you squirm, rutting up against his face again. Your whimpers turned him on like you wouldn’t believe and he groaned against you as his tongue lapped at your wetness and he shook his head deeper to make a mess of it all. 

“Oh God-“ you breathed to the ceiling. 

His right hand slid up your body, right between your breasts, and finally to your mouth and he pushed two fingers past your lips. You sucked on them gladly as his tongue worked between your legs in slow gentle motions that made you drip. 

“Say my name.” George ordered, his voice deep against your wet flesh. 

“Sir-“

“No, baby. Say my name.”

Butterflies filled your body as his fingers pulled from your mouth with perfect wet suction and you let your lips bless the name you craved, “George.”

“That’s it.”

He was breaking all the rules. 

“Want you to moan my name tonight, baby.”

He was breaking the rules that he put in place. The rules that kept that strong divider between your physical relationship from being anywhere near romantic. 

George slid his wet fingers down your folds and pushed one inside you, groaning as he watched your head fall back against the bed and your chest rose with a shaky inhale. 

“That’s my girl.” he praised, fucking you slowly with his middle finger as his tongue teased your clit. “Just feel it.”

You hummed softly, one hand still gripping his hair as your other reached behind you to fist the pillow. You let your eyes close, forcing yourself to feel it; each of his slow pumps of his finger and the sensations of his tongue edging you on. He added a second finger, making you gasp shakily and you bit down on your bottom lip through it. 

“You don’t need to be quiet, sweetheart.” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

He curled his fingers up, grazing your g-spot with ease, and you whimpered out his name, “Oh...George-”

“Good girl.” he praised, eyes staring up at you as he found a steady pace, flicking his fingers faster deep inside you as he tongued at your clit. 

“Oh my God.” you whined, squirming under his control. 

George’s free hand held you down by your hip, massaging over your flesh as he worked you closer, keeping his consistent pace even when your legs started to tremble. It wasn’t taking him long to get you there between the skill he housed and the fact that he had already had you once that night.

“George.” you whimpered. “George. George. George- fuck-”

He couldn’t get enough of the sound of his name when it was moaned by you, falling from your parted lips like heaven. There was nothing you wanted more than him...then to have him...to moan his name to the ceiling for the rest of time. It was overwhelming - he was overwhelming - and you pulled at his damp hair as you felt your stomach tighten, squealing quietly through the hotel room as he worked you right up to orgasm. 

But then he stopped. And pulled his fingers out. And left you pulsing with need to finish. 

You could only whimper out a “No” as he sat back from you.

George shushed you sweetly, pushing your legs back against your chest as he shuffled closer on his knees, “I got you. I’ll let you cum, baby. Just need to fuck you first.” 

He leaned over you and you let your legs link over his arms, staring at his pretty face as he licked three fingers and slid them down your body. He slicked them up your dripping cunt, smearing your arousal and his spit some more before guiding the tip of his dick between your lips. 

“Shit, I can feel your fucking heartbeat, baby girl.” George chuckled slowly, sliding the shaft of his dick up between your folds to slick himself up. 

You held onto his biceps, staring wide-eyed up at his face with your lip in anticipation between your teeth as he teased you with gentle touches. He was so hard and it only made you wetter by the second, breathing out a pleading, “Please” just before he gave you what you wanted and slowly slipped inside you. 

His dark eyes stared down at you as your mouth fell open in time with him and he stretched you out so nicely it always felt like your first time. Your nails dug lightly into his biceps and he set his hands on either side of your head as he bottomed out with a small groan. With how folded in half you were, he had to push down into you almost, situating himself on top of you until he was flush up against you and so deep you swore you could feel him in every nerve in your body. You shuttered. 

“Good?” he asked quietly. 

You nodded. 

George leaned down to kiss you, sharing soft closed mouthed kisses as he got started; pulling back and pushing into you in lazy thrusts. You hummed shakily, already having been so close that this was only bringing your orgasm closer. His eyes were locked on yours, his large hands gripping the sheets on either side of you as he found a good pace, giving you quick curling thrusts nice and deep. 

“G-George-” you moaned shakily, his name just tumbling from your lips without thought, eyes staring right up into his. 

“That’s my girl.” he praised softly. “I want you to feel it.”

You whimpered softly, moving your hands from his arms to the backs of your thighs to hold your legs back farther, eyes finding the limited space between you to watch him thrust into you. You couldn’t hold back the habitual moan that the sight forced from your chest, listening to how wet you were as he fucked into you with filthy sounds of his thighs against your skin. George leaned down closer, biting at your bottom lip messily behind your shared heavy breathing and his passionate thrusts and you opened up to let your lips lock with his in sloppy kisses. 

Your nails dragged over his hips, trying to follow his motions to savour it if at all, moaning and whining into his mouth. George broke your kiss as he grabbed your left leg and pushed it out, spreading you wider with his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh and he picked up speed, fucking into you quicker to make you shriek. 

“Geo-rge- fuck!” you gasped shakily, tossing your head back against the bed.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” George praised lowly, really pulling back to shove into you strongly again and again as he pulled your right leg up to his shoulder.

He used the spring of the mattress to his advantage, shoving you down by your thigh just enough for you to be pushed back into each quick thrust. You were falling breathless, gasping and moaning under him as your fingers twisted in the sheets above your head. 

“Oh my God, oh my God!” 

“Watch.” George ordered breathlessly, grabbing a handful of your damp hair to raise your head up and you stared down your body as he fucked you into the white sheets. 

“Baby.” you whimpered, toes curling in the air as he had you as he wanted you. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” His hand moved from your hair to your throat, squeezing his fingers around it until you were whimpering and your eyes were nearly rolling back. 

“George-” you cried shakily, clawing at his shoulders to try and cling onto him, feeling your whole body tingling with pleasure. “Holy...fuck…”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” he praised tauntingly. 

You couldn’t help but let your mind whirl at his words. He had never been soft and possessive with you. His girl? You could have melted. It was easy to get caught up in it, his warm hands and pretty face and eyes that seemed to look at you like you were everything he ever wanted. But maybe that was just the bliss that coursed through his veins with him balls deep inside you until all you could think about was him. All you could ever think about was him. 

He made you cum in seconds. He knew your body too well, even if you were only together for his physical gain. His hand around your throat squeezed you just enough for your cheeks to redden and his fingers pressed bruises into your thighs as he held your shuttering body down against the bed. 

You knew perfectly well he liked it loud and honestly you couldn’t help it anyway as your head tossed back against the bed and you cried and moaned his name to the ceiling until it nearly echoed off the walls. You knew better than to leave marks on him so you could only tug at his messy brown hair still damp from the shower, hearing him groan intoxicatingly above you as your body pulsed and squeezed around him. 

The moment you managed to barely take a breath, he was pulling out of you and grabbing your arm to flip you over onto your stomach. 

“George-”

He slapped your ass hard and then shoved back inside you. 

The action had you groaning loudly, clutching the sheets in your fists, “George-”

“Take it.” he ordered. “I know you can take more.”

He leaned right down over you with his forearms on either side of your body and started bucking into you quickly, forcing a shaky groan from your throat as your eyes fluttered shut. He was breathing hard against your ear, panting and grunting softly as the bed creaked underneath him with how rough he was taking it. Flat down against the bed, your eyes were nearly rolling back, fisting the sheets in your hands as your sensitive body welcomed him all. 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” George growled against your ear. 

“Uh huh.” you nodded quickly as his fingers found their way into your mouth. 

“Yeah, you’re fucking mine.” George licked up your neck, shooting shivers down your spine and he sunk his teeth down into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder. 

He kept his fingers in your mouth, his other hand gripping tightly to the sheets beside you, smothering his moans into your neck, as he fucked you harder until you were crying out. You felt completely on fire, tugging at the sheets and drooling around his two fingers in your mouth as his body made perfect filthy music with yours. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum.” George breathed against your ear. 

“Please.” you whined. 

“You want it?” George chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grab a fistful of your hair and yanked on it just enough to make you shriek, “Where do you want it?” 

“I-Inside me.” you begged. “Cum inside me...one last time, George. Please.” 

George’s jaw clenched and he groaned against your cheek, fucking into you rougher until the headboard was nearly hitting the wall. 

“Oh my God!” you squealed, yanking at the sheets as you felt your third high of the night approaching. “Don’t stop, don’t stop! Please, please, please-“

“Jesus Christ, baby.” George hissed, “Almost there. Shit.”

He slid his hand around the front of your neck, pulling your chest off the bed to find your lips with his as he finished you both off. You tried to focus, tried to engrain the feeling of his hands on you and his breath against your skin and his deep moans against your ear; tried to remember how he made you feel lightheaded when you came, how he felt around your clenching muscles as he twitched and came inside you, how it felt to be finished and filled by him until he was sighing shakily into your neck. 

There was a momentary silence. The hotel room was perfectly silent except for your heavy breathing. 

George dusted a kiss over your neck and moved his hand from your throat and carefully pulled out of you. He helped you onto your back, making sure your hair was brushed off your face, and he stared at you for a moment. You stared back. Memorizing. Trying to remember the feelings that were already starting to fade with the pleasure. 

He shifted off of you and onto the bed beside you, moving enough to untuck the sheets and pull them up around both of your naked and flushed bodies. You rolled onto your side to face the window and he shuffled up behind you, draping a heavy arm around your waist. 

Silence. 

Your heart was racing in your chest as you stared blankly out the window across the room, the moon still low over the horizon but it was bright behind the buildings of Menton. You could see it clearly in the sky and you focused on it to try and ignore the ache in your heart. George’s hand was pressed to your stomach to hold you close and you blinked away the tears forming in your eyes as you set your hand over his. 

His lips brushed over your shoulder and left soft kisses in their wake. It was almost serene. Almost like it was where you were meant to be; in his arms. He was already in your heart. 

The reality of your situation felt like a never ending weight on your chest, crushing and suffocating, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

George held you for an hour.

It wasn’t often that you stayed together after you hooked up - after all, you were only ever there for the sex - but the way he lingered made your heart hurt worse. Part of you wished he would just go. His thumb rubbed gentle patterns back and forth over your stomach and his breath felt warm against your back right between your shoulder blades. You wanted to cry. You wanted him to leave already so you could cry. 

“George.”

Your voice was wavering. 

He shifted slightly behind you so he could lean up on his arm to look at you. He could see the tears in your eyes despite how you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. 

“What is it?” he asked softly, raising his hand from your waist to brush over your cheek. 

You took all your courage to make your final request, your final attempt, “Break up with her.”

George sighed softly, “I can’t.” 

You kept your stare straight out the window, “Why?”

“I love her.” he said without a thought. 

You bit your lip. George rested his hand on your shoulder and kissed your bare skin. 

“Do you not love me?” you asked, your quiet voice trembling in fear of his response to the question you knew you had to ask. 

“I…” George thought now, trying to word his response, “I love you in a different way.”

You exhaled deeply. 

Silence. 

“I need to go.” George finally whispered. 

“Where?” you asked. 

“We just shouldn’t drag this out.” he replied. 

You didn’t reply. You knew where he was going to go anyway. Who he was going to see. You nodded. 

There was a pause. You could feel his eyes on you. 

After a moment, when it was obvious you weren’t going to say anything else, he shifted away from you and got out of bed. You heard him walk a few paces away and start to get dressed. You could see him in the dark reflection of the open window; his silhouette pulling his boxers on and then his jeans. You heard the zip of the zipper and the shuffle of the button being done up. Each quiet second, each muted sound of his clothing returning to his body made your heart ache. 

“I already paid for the room so you can stay here tonight if you want.” George said gently, “Order room service…anything you want…it’ll all go to my card.”

You didn’t want room service. You didn’t want a hotel room. You just wanted him. 

You could barely reply with an “Okay.” 

George stared at you as he buttoned up his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in slight concern as he stared at your curled up body under the white hotel sheets. You looked small in the king size bed. He spoke your name softly and when you made no move to answer, he walked around to the side of the bed, standing between you and the moon. He crouched down to look at you and you bit your lip under his stare. 

“Don’t cry, okay? Please.” he whispered, noticing the shimmer of your eyes. 

You pulled the sheets higher to hide your face from him when you couldn’t hold back a tear that seeped into the white fabric with ease. You held your breath. 

“Why can’t it be me?” you whimpered ever so softly. 

Part of you wished he didn’t hear your pathetic pleas but he did. George sighed and ran a tired and stressed hand over his face. 

“It just…it just won’t work. In another life maybe.” 

You whimpered, “Was I only ever a meaningless fuck to you?”

George’s silence was your answer and despite his hesitation to deny your statement, you couldn’t hold back your sob. 

George breathed your name and tried to reach for you, resting his hand against your hair to try and get you to look at him, to try and console you, to try and convince himself that he was doing the right thing. 

“Just go.” you said flatly behind the sheets. 

He paused. 

“George.” you said as strongly as you could possibly muster. “Please leave.”

The weight of his hand lifted from your shoulder and the shadow of his body that the moonlight cast over you faded with his footsteps. His car keys were lifted from the table. The door opened. The door shut. 

The very second silence fell and the reality of your loneliness pressed on your naked body, you burst into tears. He left you. He left you like it was easy. Like the last few months and all your nights together and whispered blissful words meant nothing to him. 

But what did you expect when you were the side piece anyway. You were never his first choice. And you never would be. 

When the sun rose, it woke you at daybreak. The curtains were still open so the room brightened as the horizon was pooling with light. You squinted in the brightness and rolled over in the frightfully empty king size bed. The sheets lingered ever so faintly with the smell of him. Your skin was bruised by his touches. Your mind was plagued by the sound of his praise through his moans. 

That’s my girl. 

You grabbed your phone to find no missed messages but a single notification. 

georgerussell63 posted a photo

You opened it.

You let Instagram load.

Your breath froze your lungs like ice.

It felt like a dagger had lodged itself right in your chest and you could feel each layer of skin and muscle tearing and aching around the blade. It was a picture of him with her…and sickening caption stating how much he adored her…how much he loved her…how much he was wholeheartedly dedicated and wanted to show her off to the world. 

He broke your heart to go public with her. 

It shouldn’t have hurt you when your entire situation was based on lies and adultery but it was true. You had fallen in love with him over the few short months you had in secrecy. You had fallen in love with him and the little grain of rice sized life that was growing inside you. 

You wanted to tell him that night. You wanted to tell him that you were pregnant and it was his and this was his way out. But why would you tell the man who didn’t love you that you carried your shared future inside your body? You couldn’t force him to love you. And you couldn’t force him to love a baby conceived from a relationship of deceit.  

[twobluejeans]

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 10: xoxo, barbie series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 10! i recommend listening to marjorie by taylor swift to this chapter so u feel the vibe.

TWITTER, july 19

INSTAGRAM, july 19

liked by camilamorrone, lewishamilton, and 6,348,164 others

yourinstagram just wrapped up the european leg of the Eras Tour, and my heart is bursting with gratitude and emotion. this journey has been an extraordinary one, and i couldn't have asked for a more incredible audience to share it with. 

last night, we closed out this chapter in the city where my mother was born, and i have no words to express how special it was. the energy, the love, and the connection we shared in that moment made it the best show of my life.

to everyone who came out to the shows, sang along, danced, and created memories with us, thank you from the bottom of my heart. your passion and support have been the driving force behind every performance, and i’m endlessly grateful for the moments we've shared together. 

this tour has been a journey of self-rediscovery and growth, and i’m so lucky to have such an amazing team by my side. the dedication, creativity, and hard work they've poured into every detail have made this experience truly magical. 

as we move forward to the next leg of the tour, i carry with me the love and warmth of each city we've visited. your energy and enthusiasm have fueled my spirit, and i can't wait to see where the Eras Tour takes us next. 

from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being a part of this adventure. let’s continue to make memories, share moments, and celebrate the magic of music together. here's to the journey ahead! 🦋🫧

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INSTAGRAM, july 20

yourstory 8h

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yourstory 8h

viewed by carlossainz, gretagerwing, and 4,17,123 others

INSTAGRAM, july 20

liked by landomybbgirl, f1ewis, and 612,122 others

enews click link in bio to read everything we know so far about the controversy that is y/n l/n’s and charles leclerc’s breakup.

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dutchverstappen_ n e ways…

ripy/nsferrariera CAUSE KARMA IS MY BFFFF

leclerc16ferrari i love charles but to say this isn’t well deserved would be lying 💀

INSTGRAM STORIES, july 20

yourstory 58m

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yourstory 28m

viewed by landonoriss, authurleclerc, and 643,183 others

TWITTER, july 20

INSTAGRAM july 21

liked by selenagomez, ana_d_armas, and 9,449,167 others

yourinstagram happy birthday to my guardian angel! today, as i celebrate another year of life, i can't help but remember the incredible woman who brought me into this world. we share the same birthday, and though you're not physically here with me, i feel your presence in every beat of my heart.it’s been 15 years since you left us, but your love, guidance, and beautiful spirit have never faded from my life. you were not just my mom; you were my best friend, my confidante, and my rock. losing you at the age of 12 was the most challenging thing i’ve ever faced, but i’ve carried your strength and love with me every step of the way.you were there for all my firsts - my first day of school, my first dance recital, my first guitar lesson. you taught me kindness, compassion, and the importance of staying true to myself. your unwavering support and belief in me still resonates deeply, even when life feels overwhelming. i often find myself looking up at the night sky, knowing that you're shining down as one of the brightest stars. your light continues to guide me, reminding me that no matter how tough life gets, i have your love to carry me through.so, here's to you, mom - the strongest, most beautiful soul i’ve ever known. thank you for being my guardian angel and for making every birthday feel like a celebration of your love and spirit.

wishing i could hug u one last time,

your y/n/n. 🤍

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fernandoalonso she’s watching over you and she’s so proud of how far you come. she’s by your side always, front row at all of your concerts. forever with you wherever you go, your guardian angel

bellahadid she’s so proud of u, babe. we all are 🖤

sabrinacarpenter happy birthday 💗

TWITTER, july 21

INSTAGRAM, july 21

liked by tchalamet, carlossainz, and 15,732,135 others

yourinstagram oh god, i’ve cried at least 3 times trying to type this so hopefully fourth times the charm.

as i take a moment to reflect on my unforgettable journey on the set of Barbie, my heart is overflowing with emotions. i can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the incredible opportunity i was given and the remarkable people who made it all possible. 

to the extraordinary visionary, greta gerwing, thank you for trusting me with the role of Barbie and for guiding me through this artistic voyage. barbie played a big role in my life as a little girl, i adored every barbie film series and for you to chose me as you barbie is something i will always be in debt to you for. your passion and creativity was infectious, and i’m forever grateful for the chance to collaborate with such a talented director. the experience has left an indelible mark on my soul. 

and to my lovely cast-mates, fellow Barbies, and Kens, you are the heart and soul of this film. each one of you brought a unique and irreplaceable energy to the set, and i in awe of your dedication and talent. together, we laughed, cried, and supported one another, creating a bond that will last a lifetime. thank you for being my rock on-screen and off-screen. you are my true stars. ⭐️

 the memories we've made during the filming process will forever be etched in my heart. from the exhilarating moments of shooting magical scenes to the heartwarming conversations behind the scenes, every single second has been a treasure. the friendships that blossomed during this journey are the kind that go beyond the silver screen, and i feel incredibly blessed to have shared this chapter with each one of you. 

i can't help but be proud of what we've created together. the love, effort, and dedication poured into Barbie shine through every frame. it’s my hope that this film will not only entertain but also inspire and touch the hearts of all who watch it. i want each person to experience the same excitement and joy that filled my heart while bringing Barbie to life.

thank you to the entire production team, crew members, and everyone behind the scenes for your tireless efforts in making this dream come true. your passion and commitment to the project have been awe-inspiring, and i’m forever grateful for your hard work and dedication. 🙏

so here's to Barbie and to all of you who made it an unforgettable adventure. let’s spread its magic far and wide, and may it bring joy and wonder to audiences around the world. thank you, from the depths of my heart, for being a part of this incredible journey. i love you all! 

BARBIE is out now in theaters everywhere. 💕

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dualipa 🎀💞

fernandoalonso_offical Felicidades cariño, estoy increíblemente orgullosa de ti. Te extraño

sabrinacarpenter i’m sick of kens i need an alan

yourinstagram sabrinacarpenter agreed.

gretagerwing Fourth pic 🥹 my babies!! Love you Guys!!

americaferrira obsessed with you and your performance! can’t wait for everyone to see it

florencepugh IVE RETURNED A CHANGED WOMAN AFTER WATCHING BARBIE

y/nsreputation she’s in her barbie era

lolaransdell_fan33 am i the only one who thought ryan gosling was kinda too old to play ken? like the age difference between y/n and him is weird too💀

yourinstagram lolaransdell_fan33 he was and is kenough.

robertdowneyjr Proud of you, kiddo. Anyways, go watch Oppenheimer in theaters today 🖤💣

yourinstagram robertdowneyjr how do i pin this comment??

TWITTER, july 21

ally’s radio 📻: YASS WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!! what r our thoughts?

@incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife@mrsmaybank13@black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx@lilsiz@ohthemisssery@leclerclvr

[karlatakicker]

RUIN SPOILERS!!

i’m very attached to roxanne, and after the dlc i am very attached to cassie too! so here’s my thoughts on the both of them and why their relationship is just so unbelievably special to me

1. it’s implied that they both don’t really have any friends, as sad as it is. Roxanne says to Cassie in their conversation that she thinks that her friends will come to her party this time, which obviously means Cassie’s friends are either nonexistent or aren’t very nice. it’s also implied that Roxanne is disliked by the other children in the pizzaplex because of her desire to win and lack of empathy thus unawareness that children are upset by the idea of losing. so, the idea of them both becoming friends and acknowledging each-other is truly special if they have nobody else.

2. Roxanne’s desire to win on her race track is overridden by her kindness and feelings towards Cassie. in their conversation Roxanne remembers Cassie because she beat her twice on the track, which leads to Roxanne almost sounding proud despite being beaten which she usually expresses anger for. (I’ve been told this doesn’t mean what I think, Number 1 twice refers to Cassie’s birthday, but you can argue that it still shows something between them by the fact Roxanne is willing to say Cassie is Number 1, despite Roxanne constantly wanting to be Number 1.)

3. Cassie’s clear empathy towards Roxanne as her favourite - she pities and feels for Roxanne when she’s crying in the salon. despite seeing the horrid conditions that all the other animatronics are in, Roxanne as Cassie’s favourite is the only one she truly feels for.

4. Roxanne’s infatuation with herself does not inflict with her remembering details about Cassie. Roxy asking about and sharing Cassie’s love of carrot cake (and remembering her birthday) shows an attachment that Roxanne seems to have with no-one else, as thinking of herself does not conflict with thinking of Cassie.

5. in the cutouts of Cassie and Roxanne standing side by side, they’re mirrored. Cassie has similar makeup on to Roxy, and is holding her mirror the exact same way. Cassie wants to be exactly like Roxanne, to the point of copying her actions and being dolled up like her. these images of the two of them are simply to establish a connection between them, so it hurts a lot more when it comes down to de-activating Roxanne.

6. Roxanne, despite being so angered at the idea of not being pretty and being so damaged, has no hesitation in jumping to save Cassie despite possibly getting more damaged or even being completely broken because of it.

7. the line “it has been some time since i saw you last” can be interpreted as Roxanne had thought of Cassie since the last time she had been to the pizzaplex. it makes their reunion all that more heartbreaking because when Roxanne meets her again, it’s for Cassie to deactivate her.

8. Roxanne asking if Cassie had booked her party yet, is essentially Roxy asking if Cassie was going to come back and see her - Cassie, the only kid that Roxy is shown to have a connection with.

9. Cassie stroking Roxanne’s fingers before deactivating her, as if to give her the last comfort she’ll ever feel.

anyway that ends my rant. they’re just so special to me despite them having like 3 interactions. they are the true little sister/big sister animatronic and human pairing we needed. if I don’t get an ending where they’re sitting on the hill eating carrot cake, the developers are going to get a very strongly worded email.

(just to clarify months on from this post, the developers have received a very strongly worded email.)

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - pt. six - motion sickness

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [7k]warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was originally posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You laid with Rafe on that white fleece blanket for what felt like hours. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, as you recounted some more of the trauma that you had experienced at the hands of JJ, listening to the constant beat of Rafe’s heart. You knew that when that sound ever stopped that you’d cease to exist. Rafe's phone rang loudly, bringing you out of your conversation and he dug through the pocket of his khaki shorts glancing at the screen - it was Topper. As he answered the phone, he gave you a knowing look, letting you know that the conversation wasn’t over. You made a mental note that you were going to have to have a chat with Top about calling at the most inconvenient times. Rafe rolled his eyes but drug his large finger across the screen to answer the facetime call. 

“What is it, Top?” 

Rafe questioned, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s no way to greet your best friend, jackass.” 

Topper quipped, a smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m a little busy right now.” 

Rafe replied, moving the camera to show you laid on his chest on the beach.

“Shit, my bad. Have you taken her to pound town yet?”

Rafe grimaced, Topper must've thought you were asleep because there was no way he’d say that with you conscious. 

“No, he hasn’t.” 

You whispered out, looking up at Rafe with sad eyes and he swallowed thickly. At Topper’s words, you wondered if that’s all this was, some sick ploy to sleep with you or to break your heart on purpose. Realization of the fact that you just shared some of your most vulnerable parts with him made your stomach sink, but you quickly pushed it down. 

“Hey, shit. I’m sorry Y/n, I was just messing with Rafe. He really likes you.” 

Topper spoke with a tone so genuine you decided to relax a little. 

“I think I got that top, thanks for the info.” 

You quipped, bringing light-hearted energy back to the conversation. Though, you knew you’d have to talk to Rafe about what he said in private. 

“Anyways, losers. There’s a party at my house tonight. I expect to see you two there.” 

Topper urged. 

“We might make an appearance. We’re spending time together though so probably not.” 

Your heart leapt at his words, he was willing to give up a party to spend time with you. Who was this new and improved version of Rafe Cameron? 

“Well spend time together at this party.” 

Topper urged again, stronger this time. 

“We’ll think about it, bye Top.” 

Rafe’s tone was gruff and annoyed. Topper was still talking but Rafe hung up the phone not wanting to hear anything else he had to say. 

“We can go if you want to, Rafael.” 

You spoke sweetly, giving him a smile, as he hung up the phone. 

“Are you sure, angel? This is our day, we don’t have to.” 

He reassured you, placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to spend time with the boys, it’s okay.” 

Your cheerful, radiant smile sent a shiver down his spine. When you gave him that smile, he knew he’d do anything and everything to make you happy until he breathed his last breath. You were such a ball of sunshine, his sunshine, that’s all Rafe could manage to think as he smiled at you, thankful for your kind, free-spirited, go with the flow nature. He almost couldn’t believe all you had gone through, he didn’t truly want to believe it. It hurt him to think of JJ’s hands on you, hurting you. 

Truth be told, Rafe didn’t need to go to this party, he didn’t even want to. But, you saying that he could meant a lot to him and it meant even more that you’d be there with him, on his arm. You laid with him for a bit longer, watching as the sun went completely down, the light pink and orange hues turning to the black of night before you began packing up the remnants of your picnic and headed to the truck, your hand in his. 

-

It was ten o'clock when you made it to Topper’s house and you felt yourself wanting to let loose a bit. As Rafe made his way around the island of the kitchen, he poured himself some tequila in a red solo cup and asked Topper what he had for you to drink. 

“Top, what do you have that y/n can drink?” 

Topper’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t pick anything up for you.” 

He placed his head in his hands. 

“It’s okay, Top. I can have a drink or two. It’s no big deal.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and your eyes met Rafe’s. He was angry. How could Top be such an idiot, he thought. How could he ask you to come and not think of you when buying beverages? You could tell the thought of alcohol being in your bloodstream made him uneasy. 

“There’s insulin in the truck, okay? You tell me if you start to feel weird.” 

He reassuringly rubbed his hands up and down your arms and craned his head down where you could reach him. Standing at six foot four, he towered over. He could see the lust present in your eyes and when he leaned in close enough, you locked your lips with his. The kiss was passionate and slow and it felt like everything in the room had disappeared, like it was just the two of you standing there. Then you heard the voice of your abuser. You pulled away and gave Rafe scared eyes as you surveyed the room, looking for where his voice was coming from. He knew what was happening, the fear that you displayed and the voice he had grown to hate told him what was wrong. He didn’t need to ask. 

“Hey, angel. Look at me. It’s okay. Need you to promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling bad before I get you a beer, okay?” 

“I promise I will.” 

You replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. He took you out of the kitchen and led you outside to the bonfire where Topper and Kelce stood, in hopes that getting you away from JJ would be enough to calm you. It was - you knew you were safe in the presence of Rafael, let alone of all three of them. Rafe stepped away for only a moment, grabbing you a beer from the cooler, and popping it open before handing it to you. The coolness of the bottle sent a shock through your arm. He made his way back behind you and you leaned up against him, his hands on your hips. You took a sip of the beer in your hands and leaned your head back against Rafe’s pectoral muscles, craning your neck to the side as he leaned down and peppered kisses to the exposed skin. You were entering bliss when you heard the all too eerily familiar voice of JJ Maybank. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He taunted and Rafe’s eyes shot to his, the grip he had on your waist tightening in protection. Rafe scoffed, not wanting to give JJ the time of day or put you in harm's way by starting a fight. 

“You like my sloppy seconds, Rafael? Tell me, how does she taste?” 

“Don’t you dare call him that, JJ.” 

You spat. Rafael was his name so anyone could really use it. But not JJ. He didn’t know Rafe well enough to even use the nickname his parents had given him, let alone the name you used as a term of endearment. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? There’s no sloppy seconds, when you never had someone to begin with, Maybank.” 

Rafe retorted, his voice sinister, begging JJ to egg him on. 

“Sweetheart, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth or I'll put a matching scar on the other cheek.” 

He grinned cheekily and Rafe grabbed you by the shoulders, moving you out of his path as he stalked toward JJ. Topper and Kelce stood, chests puffed out at his remark, confused about what he meant but the promise of a threat towards you putting them in a mode of protection. 

“What the fuck did you say?!” 

Rafe growled in his direction. 

“I said, It’d be a real shame if I had to put another scar on her pretty little face because you don’t know how to behave, wouldn’t it?” 

The crunch of Rafe’s fist hitting JJ’s jaw echoed across the beach, as the blonde flew back under the weight of his right hook. Rafe moved swiftly toward JJ, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, landing not one, not two, but three more blows to his cheek. 

“You’re not ever gonna touch her again!” 

Rafe screamed as his fists relentlessly wailed into the side of JJ’s head, blood splattered up and landed underneath Rafe’s eye.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cameron. I’ll touch her whenever and however I want to.” 

He coughed out, JJ was a cocky bastard who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, even when he was being pummelled into the ground. At his remark, Rafe hit him so hard that he thought he was dead for a second. 

“You had enough, Maybank?” 

Rafe asked as he drew back from JJ, still holding him by the collar of his shirt.

“Not even close.” 

He grunted out before spitting in Rafe’s face, Rafe’s hands released JJ in an attempt to get the saliva off of his face. He was disgusted like anyone would have been. JJ took the opportunity and lunged on top of Rafe, pinning him to the ground, and laying a hit on Rafe’s cheek. You and Topper made your way to them quickly, no longer being onlookers. Topper pulled JJ off of Rafe from behind. JJ was too fast though and wiggled out of Topper’s grasp by the time Rafe was back to his feet. You quickly inserted your body in between them, thinking that was a sure-fire way to stop the fight. It wasn’t. Before you knew it, you looked in JJ’s direction out of the corner of your eye and his fist collided with your nose at full force. Shock littered Rafe’s face and anger infiltrated every fiber of his being. 

“Told you I’d touch her how I wanted to.” 

JJ remarked, a sinister smirk residing on his face. It was one thing to hear your first-hand account of JJ’s abuse but it was another to watch him put his hands on you, accidental or not, and Rafe went absolutely feral. 

“Topper, Kelce, get her out of here!” 

Rafe yelled, taking in your shaking, crying form, as your hands covered your face. Topper did as he was told, lifting you bridal style and taking you back towards the house, sitting you on the steps, instructing people to move out of the way before kneeling in front of you. Kelce followed shortly behind.

“Y/N, are you alright?” 

Topper questioned softly, grabbing your knee, and squeezing it to give you some reassurance. You continued crying. 

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see it.” 

“N-no, T-top.” 

You choked out. 

“I need to look at it, y/n.” 

“N-no.” 

You continued to sob uncontrollably. Topper made his way behind you, taking a seat and placing you in between his legs. 

“It’s okay. Rafe’s gonna be here soon, it’s gonna be fine.” 

He whispered into your hairline and squeezed you tightly into a hug. Kelce knelt down in front of you, slowly coaxing you to pry your hands away from your face. When you did, the shock that both boys felt at the sight of your nose was enough to send them reeling. Topper looked at Kelce, his eyes laced with venom and specific instructions and Kelce knew exactly what it meant. He needed to go to Rafe. He nodded his head reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before stalking toward the bonfire where the fight had originated. When Kelce made it back down to where Rafe was, he held off on approaching him fully and instead watched as Rafe stalked toward the offender, hitting him so hard that he knew JJ Maybank was barely conscious. Truth be told, he wanted his best friend to pummel him into the sand, he wanted him to suffer, to be laying in a hospital bed for what he had done to you and Kelce would make sure that whether it was Rafe or not, that’s what was going to happen. He continued to look on at the scene, Rafe punching JJ over and over again. Blow after violent blow landing on JJ’s face, stomach, and chest. He deserved it, Kelce knew that, but what he didn’t expect was Rafe to continue the blows, with seemingly no end in sight. He began to wonder if Rafe could stop if he could control himself enough to be able to. He should’ve expected it because Rafe Cameron had been in love with you since pre-school and anyone who dared to try and hurt you or take you away from him was sure to pay a hefty price. Kelce had paid his the summer before eighth grade when he made a comment about your ever-growing breasts. Rafe had bruised his ribs and his ego for talking about you in such a vulgar way, especially in front of him. 

Kelce was brought out of his thoughts and began to make his way toward Rafe when he looked on and saw Rafe pinning JJ’s right arm behind his back, preparing to snap the bone in half if that’s what it took to send the message to the Pogue to stay the fuck away from his girl. 

“Rafael!” 

Kelce yelled at him, which got his attention immediately. The boys did not use his full name. Rafe looked in his direction with bewildered eyes. 

“I’m a little fucking busy, Kelceo.” 

He spat. 

“I get that, but you need to get up here and check on her. I think he broke her nose. Besides, she doesn’t need to watch you be an animal, Rafe. You’re not that guy anymore.” 

Rafe swallowed the words of his friend and gingerly nodded, realization hit him, Kelce was right. He threw JJ to the ground, knowing that for the first time in his fucking life Kelce wasn’t saying some dumbass remark, he wasn’t being an asshole or a bully, he was doing the right thing and currently, the right thing was keeping his best friend out of prison for murder. Instead, keeping him where he belonged, with you.  

Rafe’s tall figure quickly stalked towards you, fear in his eyes. Your hands covered your face as the blood pooled from your nose. The crunch of the bone could be felt with every nerve ending that inhabited your body. He kneeled in front of you on the balls of his feet, hands hovering over your figure, afraid to touch you in fear of hurting you worse.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. How bad are you hurt?” 

“R-Rafael…”

You whimpered violently, your hands clutching to your face, blood pooling down past your chin. 

“Come on baby girl, let me see your face. I need to look to fix it.” 

He spoke sweetly and you trusted his every word. Slowly lifting your hands away from your face, your eyes met Rafe’s worrying form. You winced at the lack of pressure on your wound and fought to get your hands back to it. Before you could complete the movement, Rafe grabbed you by the wrists. He took in the already forming bruises under your eyes and the way the bridge of your nose now sat at a bend that protruded out to the left side. 

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. You look so pretty. But I think your nose is broken so I need to take you to the hospital, okay?” 

“I-, I don’t wanna go, Rafe.” 

You choked out a sob, whimpering into his chest, as he pulled you in. Blood soaked the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care. You needed to be held and that’s what he was going to do. 

“I know baby, but I just want to get you checked out, okay? We gotta make sure you're alright.” 

You nodded, giving him permission. Which you were thankful he waited for and you felt his strong arms lift you up, carrying you bridal style, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the scrunch of his button-down moving up and down with each step he took. 

“I’m sorry, Rafael.” 

“Shh. Nothing to be sorry about, angel.” 

He cooed, placing a kiss on your hairline. 

“I’m getting blood all over your shirt.” 

“It’s okay, you can always buy me a new one.” 

He quipped, making you giggle, and even though it made you wince, you were thankful it was laughter created by him. You were brought out of your thoughts as Rafe finally came up on his truck. You marveled at how he opened the door, with such ease, not even shifting you in his arms to readjust. He was so strong and you loved it. He placed you into the passenger seat, buckling you in and reaching into the center console from which he retrieved a box of baby wipes. He had started keeping them in his truck after the first nosebleed he got during football practice and it had been a lifesaver ever since. Today, they’d be used for his girl and while that made him cringe, he was thankful he had them on hand. He slowly pulled them out of the container and stilled his hands, not wanting to spook you. 

“Okay, sweet girl, I’m going to clean your face up, alright?” 

You hummed in response, talking made it hurt worse and Rafe knew that so he didn’t probe you any further. Once he had your permission, he gently brought the wipes up to your nose and chin, wiping the blood off of your face as he stood between the passenger side door and the seat you occupied. You winced in pain at the feeling of the cold wipes against your bruised flesh. 

“I know baby, I know it hurts, I’m so sorry.” 

“s’okay Rafey.” 

You muttered. 

“There we go, my pretty girl is all cleaned up, no more blood.” 

He gave you that classic, bright, panty-dropping Rafe Cameron smile and pecked your lips lightly, careful not to touch your nose, but wanting to give you some sort of reassurance that you were safe. You gave him a forced smile and he closed your door, making his way to the driver's side, hopping in and starting the truck. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before pulling off, heading toward St. Olive’s emergency department. 

- 

After hours of x-rays and CT scans and waiting, the doctor had confirmed yours and Rafe’s worst fears, you had a displaced nasal fracture, which meant they had to pop it back into place. Rafe knew the procedure would be painful, he had dislocated his shoulder before, and when it was popped back into place he screamed like a girl. The memory was enough to make him shudder and the fact that his sweet angel had to deal with that level of pain made him want to cry. He held your hand when a doctor and a nurse brought in long silver tools that looked like medieval torture devices. When your fear-stricken eyes met him, he almost collapsed. Rafe stayed up by your head, sitting on a stool beside you, stroking your hair as you lay flat on the bed. The anticipation of the pain you were about to feel took over all of your senses. You genuinely just wanted them to get it the fuck over with. They injected you with numbing medication first and then quickly got to work, inserting the tools up your nose and pressing hard against the bone. The crunch made Rafe feel sick and it made him feel even worse when he looked down at you and saw the tears running down your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead and continued running his fingers through your hair, while the doctors applied the splint to your nose. After the conclusion of the procedure, you were released from the hospital back into Rafe’s care. Luckily, you slept most of the way home from the pain medicine they had given you before your departure. As you and Rafe quietly made your way into the house, you were met with the unexpected - Ward. His voice bellowed through the thick air of the foyer and the lights flickered on. He was angry and you couldn’t blame him. He was just being a good dad, a good person. 

“Rafael Joseph Cameron! What were you two doing out so late?! I’m supposed to take care of her while her parents are out of town. How in the fucking world can I do that if you are gone all hours of the night?! Huh?!” 

“Sorry, Dad-” 

Rafe stuttered, Ward’s wrath was the only thing in the world that he seemed to be afraid of.

“It’s my fault.” 

You spoke, your voice soft and tender, which took Ward away from his anger just enough to voice his concern. He noticed the pained expression you displayed as you moved the ice away from your face and revealed the cast that sat on your nose. 

“What the fuck happened?!” 

Ward questioned, moving closer to you, hands out in search of your cheeks. You winced away from his touch and Rafe grabbed his wrists. 

“Dad, don’t touch it. Her nose is broken, they had to pop it back in place. She’s in a lot of pain.” 

Rafe all but barked at his father, his mind associating him as a threat. Ward’s eyes softened. 

“Sweetheart, how did this happen?” 

His voice was no longer bellowing through the halls of the mansion, it was soft, caring, and kind. It reminded you of Rafe, which was odd considering you were almost sure all of the good qualities in him came from his late mother, Kate. 

“Rafe was defending me at a party and the guy had him pinned down. I got in the middle and the guy hit me.” 

“Son, is this true? Why were you fighting? You know my rules about fighting.” 

Ward’s tone was still soft, but disappointment laced his voice. You knew his rules about fighting. Rafe wasn’t allowed to fight unless he was on the brink of death or he was protecting someone else. Ward was very strict about that and always had been. Though most of the tomfoolery and fights Rafe had been in over the years Ward was unaware of. 

“It was her ex. He’s hurt her before and he said something smart. I just lost it, Dad.” 

Rafe looked down, waiting for Ward’s wrath and disappointment. He lifted his son’s chin, so his eyes could meet his and placed his hand on his cheek. 

“I’m not mad, Rafael. I’m just glad you both protected each other tonight. Now, go upstairs, get some rest and we will talk in the morning.” 

Ward instructed and the two of you quickly obliged, heading for the staircase. Rafe led you with an outstretched hand that you clung to until you made it to the bedroom. 

“You want me to run you a bath, baby?” 

“I’d love that, Rafael. Thank you, sweet boy.”

You smiled as best you could, any movement hurting the newly broken part of your face. Rafe momentarily stepped out and into the bathroom, leaving his robe on the bed for you to change into. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and as much as he wanted to gawk at your beautiful body, he knew now wasn’t the time and when the time came, it would be special. You quickly undressed, wrapping the robe around you. It was white and fluffy and warm, like a fleece blanket. The best part about it was the intoxicating smell of Rafe that lingered in every fiber. You made your way to the bathroom, walking into Rafe being bent over the side, hands dipped in the water to make sure it was just the right temperature. You stood there in the doorway, gawking at the way his bicep contracted as he leaned over the edge of the tub, pouring the bubbles in. Everything about him turned you on, even the way he was blissfully unaware of your presence. You cleared your throat and he turned his neck to look in your direction, arms still outstretched, muscles contracting, as his body leaned over the bath he was preparing for you. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

His sweet smile made your knees weak. How could he think you were pretty right now? ‘It’s just a nickname, he doesn't mean it’, you thought. 

“Hi.”

You spoke timidly, making your way into the bathroom and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. You continued watching him as he finished up, turning the water off, and moving his body toward you.

“Are you ready to get in angel?” 

He asks, squatting in front of you, holding your hands in his. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

You sheepishly smiled, looking into his bright baby blues. He gently pulled you to your feet, holding your hands in his. 

“Let me step out so you can undress, baby.” 

“No.” 

You all but yelled at him, but quickly composed yourself. You wanted him to see you, to see all of you. 

“No?” 

He looked confused and it made you giggle. 

“It’s okay, Rafael. You’ve seen me in a bathing suit, this is no different.” 

You played it off, knowing it was indeed very different. You were about to be naked in front of the boy you had been in love with for your entire life. It was very fucking different. 

“It’s very different, sweetheart.” 

He replied, emphasis on the ‘very’. 

“It’s okay.” 

You reassure him with a smile and before he can protest, you drop the robe from your shoulders. He shuddered as it hit the floor and his eyes were invaded with the sight of you - your breasts, plump and beautiful, sitting pretty in front of him, begging, screaming, crying for him to touch them. You watched him swallow thickly and stepped closer to him, eyes boring holes into his. 

“Do you like what you see, Rafael?” 

You questioned, your lips turning upward into a devilish smirk. You knew what the fuck you were doing. Though you weren’t sure how you had never even been naked in front of JJ. This just felt so different, so easy. 

“You have no idea how much.” 

He replied simply, trying to keep his voice even. He took your hand again, helping you lower yourself into the bubbles and once you were seated he went to exit the room, so you could have time to relax after having such a hard day. 

“Rafael, where are you going?” 

“I just thought you’d want time to relax baby.” 

“Well, it’s hard to relax without you, ya know?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes as you joked. 

“So, you want me to sit with you, baby?” 

He was anxious for your answer, not truly knowing what you wanted from him at this moment - casual sex, intimacy, or both. 

“I want you to get in with me, sweet boy. Just hold me for a little while.” 

His lips turned up into a smile and he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, placing one foot into the tub and sitting behind you. He spread his legs, pulling you back into him and you laid your head on his chest. 

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is this what you wanted?” 

He smirked into a chuckle but as much as you wanted to laugh you heard that stupid nickname again and it made you cringe. 

“Don’t call me that, I’m not that.” 

Your voice was weak and feeble. He was taken aback by your declaration because you were that. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“Do you not like it at all or just right now?” 

You almost cried at the sweet question and how well he knew you, how in tune he was with your feelings. 

“Just right now, I think. I just don’t feel very pretty right now.” 

“I know, baby. But, nothing has changed. It’s just a broken bone, it’ll heal.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried, ya know. I mean, what if when it heals, I don’t look the same or you don’t like me anymore?”

“Baby, you gotta slow down, okay? Just breathe. You are the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, even when you’re hurt. That’s never going to change. I’m never going to not love you.” 

“Y-you love me?” 

“I do. I sort of always have.” 

He replied boldly. You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing, he loved you too. After all this time, he loved you too. 

“Is it okay if I clean you up, baby? I’d prefer if you weren’t covered in blood when I tell you that I love you too.” 

You questioned him and a smirk danced across your face. His eyes shot up at the confession laced in the back of the nonchalant nature of such a simple sentence, such a simple question. He was absolutely floored. You loved him too. How long had you loved him too? You took the wash rag in your hands, wringing it out and bringing it up to Rafe’s face, gently wiping the blood away from underneath his eyes, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in his hairline. You dipped it back into the water, making sure to clean each wound with intent and care, placing a kiss on his nose when you were done. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take care of me like that.” 

He gruffly spoke, attempting to clear his throat. The way you made him feel was electric, every fiber of his being, every nerve ending, every muscle was on fire for the way you cared for him. 

“Your mom did, I know that for a fact.” 

You spoke sweetly and he smiled, knowing you were exactly right. Kate loved him deeply and cared for him like this. Maybe that’s why he loved you so much, you reminded him so much of her. 

“Let’s go to bed, Rafael. I’m tired.” 

“I know you are baby.” 

He placed a kiss on your temple, taking your hands and helping you stand in the tub, wrapping a towel around your shivering form. He quickly dried off and helped you out of the tub, leading you back into his bedroom. You dried off the best you could and sat on the edge of the bed, the towel wrapped around you beneath your armpits. Rafe was rummaging through his dresser, looking for clothes to wear to bed for the both of you when you ushered him over to you. 

“Rafe, come here.” 

Your voice was soft, but it was coated with desire and longing. He took in your still naked form, thanking whatever Gods were on his side for letting him be here with you, thanking you internally for letting him see you like this. He made his way over to you, following your instructions, and sat on the bed next to you. He was nervous, being naked beside you sent chills down his spine, the water no longer providing any modesty for either of you. He ran his hand up and down his knees repeatedly, seeing him this nervous made you smile. 

“What is it, angel?” 

He questioned, afraid to touch you in fear of making you uncomfortable. 

“Can you just hold me before we put clothes on? I just want to stay like this for a little while.” 

“Is that all, angel? You had me worried for a second. Come here.” 

You let out a soft giggle, removing your towel and crawling onto his lap, straddling him, the tip of his dick brushing up against your core. He bit back a groan and you felt him grow hard beneath you. You knew what the fuck you were doing and you smirked as you laid your head on his chest. He held you there, rubbing soft circles into your back as he fought to gain his composure. Getting his dick wet was the last thing on his mind, even with your antics. He wouldn’t allow his physical desires to fuck this up. He finally had you, finally knew that you loved him and wanted him too and he wanted your first time to be special. He looked down at you at the exact moment that you looked up at him, his eyes locking with yours. You plunged your lips into his, bringing your hands up to his face. His mouth opened slightly, letting you in. Your tongues fell in sync with each other, like they were meant to wrestle against each other for all of eternity and maybe they were. You panted for air, pulling away, moving to place gentle kisses on his collarbones and his broad shoulders. He pulled back, pushing you a bit, creating a barrier between the two of you. You swallowed thickly at the hurt you felt, at the rejection. 

“We should stop.” 

He spoke, his tone even, and it shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“I-i’m sorry. I know I’m not experienced, I know that’s not attractive.” 

Your voice shook with embarrassment and your eyes went to your hands which were no longer holding on to Rafe’s arms and instead were in your lap. You squeezed them together, a habit you only took part in when you were extremely anxious. You cursed yourself, you couldn’t even kiss him right, you couldn’t do anything right. Rafe’s hands cupped both of your cheeks and his blue eyes could see the sadness laced in yours.

“Hey, don’t do that.” 

He spoke softly, continuing to cradle your face in his hands, staring into your eyes so he’d know you heard every word he was about to say. 

“Do what?” 

You asked innocently, unsure of whether he was referring to you kissing him or something else. 

“Don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s okay.” 

You brought your eyes back down to your hands, as he let go of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Can you t-tell me w-what I did wrong?” 

Your face became a deepened shade of red and he furrowed his brows in confusion and his eyes softened. 

“Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just-, if we do this when we do this, I want it to be when you’re my girl like officially. I don’t want us to have to guess and I want you to be sure I’m who you want your first time to be with.” 

Your jaw dropped at his confession, at his sweet words. You giggled. 

“Rafael, who did you think I was saving it for? I’ve been your girl since we were seven years old.” 

He leaned in and you followed, letting his lips softly graze yours, breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of him. You felt euphoric as he kissed you with equal parts passion, violence, and gentleness. His hands made their way to your breasts hovering over them a bit too long. He was still afraid to touch you but you needed him to. You growled into his mouth, which sent him into overdrive, all his senses burning for you. 

“Wrap your legs around me, love.” 

He whispered against your lips. You followed his directions and he stood with you in his arms, turning to place you flat on your back on his bed. He knelt in front of the bed, where your legs hung over the edge, and took your left leg into his hands, gently kissing from your ankle up to your thigh. You writhed under his touch, his mouth being mere centimeters from your core. 

“You’re beautiful, y/n. Thank you for letting me touch you like this.” 

He whispered out and you gave him a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure you want this?” 

He asked sweetly, breathing over the space where your thigh and vagina came together in an attempt to tease you. 

“I’m sure.” 

You breathed out, hands wrapping themselves in Rafe’s hair, pulling at the golden brown locks. At the sound of your permission, Rafe began kissing at your entrance, rubbing his thumb over your g spot ever so slowly. You wriggled under his large hands, groaning loudly when the sensation of his lips met your sensitive nub over and over. 

You’re so utterly lost in the kisses, in the way his mouth feels against you that you almost forget to breathe. 

“I’m gonna put a finger in baby, need you to tell me if it hurts, okay?” 

You eagerly nodded and became undone as his finger bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. 

“How’s that feeling, baby?” 

“S-so g-good.” 

You said, breathlessly. 

“Gonna add another, baby. Tell me if it hurts.” 

You again nodded as quickly as your head would move. He slid in another one of his long fingers, bottoming out inside of you, letting you adjust before beginning to move them back and forth, picking up the pace and curling his fingers as he felt you clench around his hand, reaching your climax. 

“Rafe, I think I have to pee.” 

You spoke sheepishly and he chuckled. 

“That’s not pee, baby. That’s your body telling you that what we’re doing is making you feel good. You’re about to have your first orgasm.” 

He smiled reassuringly and you gingerly nodded, again ashamed at your lack of knowledge and experience. Rafe pulled his fingers out of you and you missed the contact. You let out a tangled whine. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Thank you so much for letting me touch you like this.” 

You smiled at his reassurance, running his fingers through his hair as he placed kisses under your belly button, where your largest pump site scars resided. 

“I love these scars, baby. I love you so much.” 

“I love you, Rafael.” 

With no warning, he plunges his tongue inside of your delicate entrance and you feel yourself clench around him, your stomach knotting up once more and your body chasing the high that he was giving you. You hoped what he said was true and that you weren’t about to pee in his mouth, as the damn was breaking around you and the knot within your stomach busted, releasing every feel-good hormone your body held. All you could see were stars as your vision blackened. You looked to Rafe after a moment, your chest heaving up and down. His pupils were blown, desire lacing them. 

“How was that, beautiful?” 

He questioned, looking up at you with a smirk as he placed kisses over your tummy once more. 

“Let’s do it again, but this time, I want you inside me.” 

You quipped in a serious tone. You needed him to know you were serious and you wanted him, all of him. 

“As you wish, baby. Are you on the pill or do you want me to use a rubber?” 

He asked gently. 

“I’m on the pill, sweet boy. Thank you for asking, but I want to feel every inch of you.” 

He simply nods in response and parts your legs a bit more, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he positions himself in front of your entrance. You watch him, eagerly waiting for the moment he’s going to be inside of you. He hovers over your face, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Honey-, listen, this is going to hurt a bit, okay? But I promise it’ll feel better quickly. I need you to talk to me through it, okay? I need to know how you’re feeling the whole time.” 

“Okay, baby. I promise.” 

You smiled brightly up at the gorgeous man hanging his head over you, leaning up to kiss his nose. 

“I’m ready, Rafael.” 

He nodded and kissed you passionately on the lips, moving down the entirety of your jaw and neck before landing on your breasts, grazing them with his tongue. You sharply inhaled at the new sensation. He gently bit down, sucking at your hardened peak. You groaned loudly, letting him know to stop teasing you. 

“Rafe-” 

You all but yelled his name, letting him know he was frustrating you. 

“Patience. Tell me what you need, baby.” 

His voice remained sweet, he sensed your need for him. 

“Put it in, already!” 

You grunted and he let out a belly laugh. 

“Okay, baby. All you had to do was ask.” 

He smiled, lining his tip up with your entrance once more and gently pushing in. Before you could even process what had happened, tears leaked out of the sides of your eyes. He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated. Rafe leaned down, wiping your tears away. 

“Am I hurting you, angel? You can tell me, I won’t be upset.” 

“No, it’s just uncomfortable.” 

He gingerly nodded, knowing what you meant. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.” 

He gently placed kisses all over your face while he bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to his size. 

“Okay, you can start moving.” 

You spoke, the feeling of his dick sending you into a euphoric state. Nothing has ever made you feel this good in your entire life. Rafe’s pace quickened as he pounded in and out of you. You felt the familiar knot grow in your stomach and threw your head back. 

“How’s it feeling, pretty girl? You’re so pretty like this, baby. Thank you for letting me see you like this.” 

“S-so good, Rafe.” 

He hit you with another hard thrust, scraping against your sweet spot once more.

“Rafe, I’m gonna cum-” 

You gasped. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m right behind you. Go ahead, angel.” 

He whispered into your hairline as he leaned down, peppering kisses on your collarbones. The new position let him hit your sweet spot and you screamed out as the second wave of pleasure wracked through your body. 

Rafael-, I love you so much.” 

You screamed out as he held you, letting you ride out your orgasm. He kissed your forehead as you came down from your high. He pulled out of you, already missing the warmth.  

“I love you too, sweet girl. Are you mine?” 

“I’m your girl, forever.” 

You breathed out against him, letting him run into the bathroom to grab something to clean up with before cuddling into his chest and falling into a blissful sleep. 

taglist:

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[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part nine

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the teaaaa guys,, also should i post the playlist tn?? i feel like its almost ready 0.0

series masterlist // playlist

"You should go home. You can't save her by just hoping she comes out of her little tunnels again..." Coryo turns his head at the Dean's voice on his left. "She could be dead in there. You wouldn't know."

Your friend sighs, rolling his eyes and redirecting them to the screen ahead. Just in case.

"What are you reading?" He points to the open book on Coryo's desk in front of him as the boy quickly closes it, pulling it down onto his lap.

"Just a book." He mumbles.

The Dean gets closer, leaning over to read the cover as Coryo flips it over. "Just a book?" He probes it more, raising an eyebrow at him. "The very same one your poet was reading in all the live feeds of the zoo over the last few days. That's sweet."

"It's interesting. That's all. She asked for it, I wanted to know why." Coryo brushes it off, holding the paper tighter in his grip.

"What do you want from that girl?" He asks, leaning against the empty desk next to him.

"Nothing." Coryo insists. "I want her to live."

Dean Highbottom hums, giving a slight nod. "And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose."

Coriolanus smiles bitterly, thinking over what his best response would be. "I believe I'd be entitled to it."

"Of course you do." The Dean nods, flashing him a fake smile of encouragement. "Of course you do. The prize, the girl. Hm. How convenient you don't have to choose between them."

Coryo tucks the book under his leg at the statement, choosing not to grace his superior with any kind of response.

"Who do you think makes that final decision for the prize you so covet, Mister Snow? Wake up. Even if she somehow wins it all, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you don't see a dime." Dean Highbottom spits, looking up at the screen as well as Coryo slowly looks over at him. "So, ask yourself, how much do you care if she wins now?"

Coryo listens to the man's footsteps as he walks away, pretending to focus on the screen again. If he truly had no shot at the prize, would it be best for him to go home now and sleep like many of his classmates already had? Should he even bother to watch the cameras hoping that you'll reappear in the dark arena at some point tonight? Should he even come back? Of course he would. He couldn't live with the idea of you coming out, in desperate need of something only he could give you, food or water, and knowing that at some point you would realize he had lied to you. That he wasn't with you anymore. He would have to watch your heartbreak in holiday reruns for the rest of his life. Even if you died in that arena all alone, would you realize that he didn't care about you at the end? He couldn't take the idea of it.

As he returns to the book that he's pulled back onto his lap, he hopes you still remember.

It's another slow hour before you show your face again, slowly, carefully opening the vent across the arena as the motion cameras pick up on it, allowing Coryo to watch the closest one to you. It's a moment before he looks up, entranced in your book when he sees the movement in his peripheral vision. He was the only one there, now, and he knew it likely wasn't you that the cameras picked up so it took him a moment to even tear his eyes away from the desk, slotting the dried-up flower between the pages. When he does see it's you, he sits up quickly. Watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn't come, there was no one else. It's just you.

Your eyes scan the arena in search of the nearest camera after seeing that there are no other tributes out in the clearing besides Lamina, where you left her on the beam. You crawl out, leaving the vent open behind you for a quick retreat. You find the camera, looking into it. You were covered in dirt head to toe, but even through that Coryo could see it when you tried to communicate with your gaze. With him.

You give a small wave to the camera, eyes flitting up with the sound of birds in the crumbled rafters above you.

He wasn't sure what you wanted, but he was grateful you listened. Tapping through his communicuff, he quickly finds water and hits send. Hopefully, it makes it to you instead of breaking like Lamina's did.

You stand up in front of the vent, stretching out your limbs from being curled up and crawling around in the vent system for so long. You wanted to explore as much of it as you could, but it was hot in there, and you desperately needed water so you could clear out the dust in your throat.

A smile falls onto your face briefly as you see the drone come in, carrying your water bottle. Coryo. He is watching. You hold your hand out, prepared to try and catch it before it crashes loudly into the stands just behind you. From watching what happened with Lamina's, you know you have to be careful. The blades aren't well covered, and they come flying in fast. Straight toward you. When it gets too close you bail, ducking down as the fast-moving drone flies straight past you and into the vent. You cringe at the loud banging that follows, echoing throughout the arena due to your beloved vent system. You stay hidden for a moment, making sure no one is coming after you before standing up and looking around. Satisfied that no one was coming besides Lamina who just stirred on her beam, you held your finger up toward the camera, signaling for Coryo to wait as you crawled back in.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits, relieved when you emerge a minute or so later with an unbroken bottle in your hand as you kneel on the ground in front of the opening. You hold it up, shooting the camera a small smile before opening it and taking a sip. Or, you intended to, but you were so thirsty you downed almost the whole thing in one go.

You wipe your chin, take a deep breath, and close your eyes. It felt so good. Coryo is watching you intently. You don't look cold, which is good. Maybe even a little sweaty, if the hair that's clinging to your forehead is proof of that. You're probably hungry. And with that, he's sending you an apple. If you weren't hungry, it wasn't a lot to eat, but if you were, he would be able to tell by how you ate it.

You hear the distant whir of another drone, quickly standing up and stepping away from the vent. You want to avoid that loud echoing as much as you can. You brace yourself and duck beneath the seat in front of you, hiding behind the railing so it wouldn't hit you.

It crashes into the front of the stands, and you can hear it falling down onto the floor. You stand up slowly, looking over the edge. You were so hungry, now that you saw the apple there, that you hopped down over the side and walked along the edge of the railing before sliding down where it was safest. You watch your steps as you make your way over to the broken drone and the battered apple that was attached to it.

You scan the ground, looking for that delicious flash of red which you pick out quickly. You pick it up and wipe it off on your dress, taking a bite before you're even fully stood up again. You could moan just at the taste of it. You had missed fruit so much- occasionally Coryo and Sejanus had brought you some in the zoo, but now it was something else entirely. Every bite could be your last, and you try to enjoy it as best you can.

You track the arena again from the floor, looking around again for the nearest camera. You turn when you see it's pretty much directly above your head. You wave again, giving Coryo a grateful smile, weakened by the stress of the day's events, and by your inevitable death. Nevertheless, you tried to keep on a brave face; you didn't want him to view you as careless or ungrateful. "Thank you." You say, unsure if there is even a microphone.

You tilt your head at the camera, confusing him as you squint. "Can you hear me?" You ask and he nods, alone in the large room.

"I can hear you." He whispers back to the open air, watching as you swiftly turn around, facing away from the camera.

"If you can hear me, send..." You think about it. What is something they would definitely have available but obscure enough that you would know he heard you? "Send in something odd. Something you're surprised is even an option."

He flicks through the pages and pages of options, unsure what to pick. Bread was too basic, no apples, water, no. Milk? That's weird, and gross. It's perfect. He hits send and watches as you eat your apple, looking up at the opening at the top waiting for something else to come.

You smile as you see it coming in, looking back at the camera briefly before bracing yourself to dodge the flying gift. You wait until the last second, jumping out of the way as it smashes into the wall behind you, the bottle shattering and spraying the surface in milk. Coryo cringes just at the sight of it as you turn and look.

You scrunch up your nose and get closer, running your finger through the dripping liquid to try and identify it. "Milk?" You ask, looking up at the camera.

He smiles to match yours as it grows on your face and you start to laugh quietly. "That is odd, indeed." You giggle, shaking your head. "Well, thank you, dear Coryo. At least I shall have someone to talk to." You take another bite out of the apple in your hand.

"I hope you had a good day." You hum, covering your mouth as you chew. "But you should be getting home soon. I think it is late."

It's so you to be so caring, even finding yourself within the games you're still worried about him. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He continues to click through the communicuff in the silence that follows, just to get a better idea of all your options, when he finds something better.

Finally, the keyboard makes sense. He quickly types the note out to you and hits send. It's pricey to send a note, putting a dent in your donations, but you had so many it wasn't really a concern at this point. After all, he was your mentor. It only made sense that he would kind of be able to communicate with you.

You perk your head up at the sound of another drone, ready to play this game again. You dodge it more smoothly this time, with a spin that puts a smile on your mentor's face before picking up the small container clipped on the bottom of the drone and prying it open.

You smile when you see it's just a piece of paper. "I'm not leaving. -C"  You read, looking up at the camera.

"Well then," You grin. "Let's talk! It is not day."

He remembers that one. You've said that one to him before- you said it was Romeo and Juliet. He's actually sure he just read it. If the book belonged to him, he would be highlighting and annotating every line you have recited to him over the last couple weeks just like he does in his textbooks.

"That's Romeo and Juliet, if you remember." You remind him, assuming that he wouldn't know it yet. Even if he had started reading it, which he shouldn't have considering you know he's been busy, it was unlikely he'd get that far in under a day. You didn't know that he was inhaling every word on the page in the moments you were off-screen, devouring every blank verse as if it were sacred. To you, and now to him, it almost was. 

You look around as you chew on your apple, stopping when you look at Marcus again. You sigh, sadly, seeing the birds now crowding his body as you quickly begin to make your way over. Lamina sits up as you approach, looking over the edge of the beam. "Just me." You whisper, reassuring her before you shoo the birds away as she lays back down.

You crouch down next to the boy, gently rolling him onto his back. You hadn't the chance earlier, too rushed by the daylight to get back into hiding, but now was as good a time as any. You gently cross his arms over his chest and close his eyes.

You sit back, carefully adjusting his clothes before getting up, as satisfied as you could be with the makeshift burial.

You take a few steps back, retreating quietly to the edge of the arena to get back to your vent. You climb up into the stands just as you hear another drone coming, quickly climbing the stairs so it doesn't fall back down into the ring. You grab it when it's settled, smiling to yourself when you see it's another note.

"No cameras in the vents. Only come out if you need anything. -C"

"Thank you, Coryo." You whisper, looking up at the camera and nodding before retreating inside, closing the fan quietly behind you.

You curl up just past the entrance to the vent, hoping to get some sleep near the fresh air. The exhaustion kicks in quickly after you eat the entire core of the apple, knocking you out in the darkness of the tunnel.

When you wake, it's still dark. You sit up quickly, realizing where you are. Rubbing your eyes, you look out of the vent to see the source of the sound that woke you. You quickly spot a figure kneeling over Marcus's body, blinking to try and see who it is through the sleep still in your eyes.

You should stay hidden, you know that, but from behind at least, it doesn't look like another tribute.

"Sejanus?" You whisper, the vast space carrying your voice to his ears and he quickly turns. You were lucky it was him, but you were able to make a quick escape if it turned out to be someone else. "Sejanus, it's just me." You continue, and as you ease yourself down the debris piled up against the wall he just turns back to Marcus.

You take careful, nearly silent steps as you walk up behind him. "Sejanus?" You say again, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shakes his head slightly, looking up at you. Tears filled his eyes and stained his cheeks, and you very quickly felt the tears building up in your own eyes as well. "Oh..." You quickly kneel down next to him, pulling him into a hug which he gratefully accepts. "Oh, Sejanus I'm so sorry... I wanted to save him, I did..." You choke on every word as you apologize.

"It's not fair." He sniffs, shaking his head gently under your grip as you soothingly rub the back of his head.

"I know... He didn't deserve that." You agree, ignoring the tears dripping down to your jaw and tickling your skin. "But I want you to know I told him how loved he is, and how sorry we all are. He knew. In his final moments, he knew..."

He tenses under your hold. "It... it was you?" He mutters, pulling away.

"No! No, I-" You quickly defend yourself, head shaking as your arms drop from around him and he looks over at you, understated anger beginning to shine through. "Sejanus, I didn't..."

Any trust he had in you was seemingly gone at that moment. You were worried you flipped a switch you couldn't unturn, that any relationship you had built with the boy had died and been replaced with the thought that maybe you were no better than the game makers themselves. Marcus was defenseless, and it felt like Sejanus thought you took advantage of that.

Your thought process proved to be correct. "He was defenseless! Innocent!" You could tell he would shout if you weren't both so worried about staying quiet. His anger quickly reverted back to hurt. "How could you?"

"I promise, it's not what it sounds like-" You try to correct him, to get him to forgive you as your chest constricts around your lungs. One of the two friends you made in your final days; gone. Just like that.

"Hey!" Another voice startles the both of you, already just a few feet away. You didn't realize how vulnerable you were while you were fighting to prove yourself. You scramble to get up, standing just in front of Sejanus as he knelt on the ground, making no attempts to move. "Y/N. Get out of here." Coryo instructs you, still in his academy uniform.

"Coryo, I-"

"Go hide. Now. It's not safe for you out here." He insists, eyes cold and serious.

"No, not until-"

"I said go. I can't be talking to you, we'll both be punished. Go."

God, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to do more than talk to you. He wanted to hug you for the first time unimpeded, to grab your hand and pull you outside to where you would be safe, but he knew that neither was an option. You're safer in the vent than you would be in the hands of Dr. Gaul after he was seen talking to you, that's for sure.

He has to bite his tongue to keep from asking you to stay while you scurry off to do as he said and climb back into the vent, his mother's scarf still tied securely around your waist. He hated that this could possibly be the last time you saw him, but he had no choice.

"Sejanus, let's go." He whispers to his friend, once he is satisfied that you are really going.

"She killed him..." He mumbles in response.

"She didn't kill him." Coryo quickly corrects him.

"She said-"

"He begged for their help, and she held his hand while she," He points up the beam where a now sleeping Lamina lay quietly, "did it. Now let's get out of here."

He urges him on and Sejanus looks up at him. "He asked them to." Coryo hisses to iterate his point. "Y/N couldn't do it even then."

Sejanus looks up to the vent just as the door creaks closed behind you. "I just wanted to help..." He says softly, eyes watering.

"If you want to help, the best thing you can do is come with me."

"No, I had to be where the cameras are, I need to show them-"

"Do you think anyone is watching this?" Coryo asks as his friend finally stands up. He was making progress, but slowly. This needed to move faster. "Gaul cut the feed. Come with me now, or-"

"But you said-"

"You can't help them if you die in here and become another body in Gaul's war." Coryo cuts him off. There was very little time for arguments, and that timer was rapidly ticking down. "Go home, spend your father's money, do some real good. And don't blame her. She's just as innocent as Marcus was and you know that. Who do you think shut his eyes? Posed him like that? She sobbed for an entire hour after holding his hand while he died!"

Sejanus is speechless, staring down at his tribute's body.

"I watched it all! She's alone in here. She has no one!" He whispers in his ear. "We are all she has. Me and you on the outside, and if you want to help that girl and all the tributes after her, we have to go right now or neither of us will see the light of day again and she will starve and die truly alone. Please, Sejanus. You're her friend... My friend. Come with me."

Sejanus looks at him, the two boys just inches apart as he nods with a resigning sigh. "Okay." He whispers.

Coryo sighs in relief. "Thank you, come-" He starts to turn back when they both are scared by the sound of footsteps sprinting toward them. "Come on!" He shouts, grabbing his classmate's sleeve and dragging him behind as they make for the red lighting of the exit.

You watch from the slits in the fan, hands perched on the blade as you lean against it to get a better view. Your heart is racing as you watch Coryo and Sejanus book it for the exit. God, you hope they make it.

They almost do.

Until Sejanus trips over the turnstile you know and hate, crying out in pain upon hitting the ground. Immediately, you're pushing the door open loudly and running along the railing, hoping to get closer to the exit without running the risk of cutting through the middle of the arena. "Coryo! Run!" You yell helplessly, careless of whether or not you'll be heard or seen by others. All you wanted was to create a distraction. To save him.

But he doesn't run, even as you see him stumble back in the red lighting of the tunnel, hissing when Bobbin's blade strikes him somewhere. "Coryo!" You cry out again, more out of fear. Was it serious? Was he already in the process of bleeding out?

You quickly hop the railing abandoning your safety, sliding down the concrete and stumbling upon hitting the ground. "I don't want to hurt you!" You hear his voice again as you run into full view of the tunnel, still about twenty feet away.

Just in time to see Bobbin fall back between the metal gate, landing a good ways away.

"Enjoy the show!"

You flinch when your friend steps out after him, chest rising and falling heavily as he stares down at the boy's body. Silent, unmoving, dead.

Then he brings the club down on him again.