#neither of them know how to exist without each other anymore

[candyskiez]

Thinks about my jongerry au. They dint know about my jongerry au.

[f1goat]

not a chance + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando thinks he's going to win a race, to which you tell him the chances of you two fucking are as low as him winning a race - so what happens when he wins?

lando norris x fem!sainz reader tw: smut + not proof read (as usual)

masterlist - playlist

“I think this is going to be my day,” Lando tells your brother, Carlos, with a confident tone in his voice. “Maybe I’ll actually win today.”

You can’t help yourself and let out a soft laugh. “As if,” you mutter softly. You don’t expect anyone to pay attention to you, let alone hear your comment, but while looking at Lando you’re quick to realize that he did hear you. He is sending you an annoyed glare, while Carlos tries to tell you without words that you should shut up. Bit too late for that now. 

“Don’t believe me babygirl?” Lando asks you. The earlier confidence in his voice has disappeared and made place for a sarcastic tone, one Lando only uses with you. “Nope,” you say, making sure that you’re popping the p. 

“I’m not doing this again,” Carlos sighs while looking at his little sister and one of his best friends. Lando and you both know what he’s talking about, but neither of you is backing away. Lando is even getting closer towards you. “I’ll see you later,” Carlos continues, “hopefully after the two of you finally fixed the fucking sexual tension between you two.” 

It’s not a secret that Lando and you don’t like each other. You don’t know how it happened, where you were once almost as close with him as Carlos, things changed between you two. Friendly conversations changed into sarcastic, mean remarks meant to hurt to other one. Meeting up when Carlos couldn’t join changed into only seeing each other when Carlos dragged the both of you in the same place. Always texting with each other, sending memes towards each other eventually changed into ignoring each other on every social platform. 

Whatever happened to cause the change between Lando and you, has never been clear to you. Sometimes you blame yourself for taking a bit more distance when Lando got his first girlfriend, but eventually it was Lando who really changed his attitude towards you. Sometimes you miss how it was before, or better said every time you see Lando you miss how it was before. Even if you were fighting your feelings for him, it was better then acting like you hate him. Of course you don’t hate Lando, how could you - especially after crushing on him for the longest time. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the text that’s coming in. It’s from Carlos. When you’re done toying with Lando, I’m at Ferrari. Saved you a seat. You should go to him now, that would be the smart thing to do. But Lando is still standing closely in front of you. Carlos believes that something else is going on between Lando and you, something that’s according to him caused by romantic feelings, but according to you that’s bullshit. Your crush on Lando doesn’t exist anymore, right? 

“Funny to see the girl who believed in you the most turn into one of your biggest haters,” Lando mutters annoyed. He truly feels betrayed by the way you’re talking about him and the upcoming race. He means his earlier words. Sometimes he wonders how things would be between you two if he did some things different. A lot changed when he was dating his ex girlfriend, changes he can’t undo but he wants to fix them. If you’ll let him.

“Not a hater,” you reply, “just a realist.” 

“Just watch me babygirl,” Lando says, “I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.”

“And after the podium I’ll find you and show you what else I can do,” Lando continues. He almost sounds dangerous. It causes you to feel flustered. What is he talking about? 

“The chances of you’re winning the race are as low as the chances of us going to fuck,” you tell him as if it’s a fact, while in reality you’re not so sure about yourself. 

“Seems like a good celebration, I’ll find you after the race,” Lando says, he has found his confidence back. 

“You’re crazy,” you sigh, “I’m not listening to this any longer.”

“See you after the race babygirl,” Lando says when you walk away from him.

“You won’t.” 

+++

Fuck. Did this actually happen? You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you’re looking at Lando who’s screaming from happiness while getting out of his car. How did he actually win todays race? What does this mean? What is going to happen now? Is Lando expecting that you’ll have sex with him now? Fuck. 

You see the way your brother is hugging with Lando, how happy he is for his friend. It makes you think about how you felt before. Every time Lando stood on the podium you’d beam with pride, you love(d) seeing him on the podium. It was you who always told Lando that he would be standing on the top step soon and that you’d be there to celebrate with him. How things changed. 

While looking at Lando who’s still celebrating with his team, you think back about the day things really went wrong between Lando and you. It has been months before it all crashed down, months filled up with weird tension and uncomfortable moments. Which all started when Lando got a girlfriend. You can’t blame him for that, you still don’t, but you just didn’t like her. Maybe it was because of your crush on Lando, maybe it was because his girlfriend sensed something and made sure that Lando and you couldn’t spend any time together anymore. 

“You don’t get it Lando,” you tell him, “I never get to see you anymore, you’re always busy and don’t make time for me anymore. What changed? Are you bored of me? Am I not fun enough to be your friend anymore?” 

“No, that’s not it,” Lando quickly says, “I just don’t have the time anymore.”

“You seem to have time for everyone expect for me,” you bitterly state, “I’m not stupid, I see how you’re traveling all around the world to meet up with every friend you have.”

“It’s different,” Lando defends himself. 

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” you sigh, “since you’re in a relationship everything changed between us.” 

Lando knew at that moment that he should tell you the truth. How he only agreed to his relationship so he could forget about his feelings for you, but he doesn’t dare to say so. And now he’s in a relationship with a weird influencer who seems to hate you and who doesn’t ‘allow’ him to see you anymore. He really should break up with her, but what will happen then?

“It’s just that she doesn’t like you,” Lando eventually tells you, “and as her boyfriend I need to chose her side, I guess?”

“So that’s it? Your girlfriend, from two months, doesn’t like me so you just decided to stop spending time with me, your friend from multiple years?” You ask confused. This time you don’t wait for Lando to continue. “That’s just, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. Good to know my worth,” you continue sadly. 

After his confession which still wasn’t the whole story, Lando didn’t know what to say anymore. He watched how you left, but didn’t follow you to make things right. Maybe it’s for the better for now. There’s nothing he can do for now. He has a girlfriend, he needs to forget about his feelings for you and move on. 

Two hours later he broke up with his girlfriend, but then he was already blocked by you. 

After Lando celebrated with his team, almost all the other drivers and everyone else who congratulated him, you’re waiting for him to get on the podium. You feel weird while watching Lando on the podium. There’s a part of you who’s incredibly proud of him, a part that wants nothing more then to run over to Lando and hug him and tell him how proud you are of him. The other side of you is only thinking about what will happen next. 

When Lando is standing on the podium, you can’t stop thinking about how hot he looks. When Carlos finds his place next to you and watches Lando with you, he notices the way you keep looking at his best friend. “I really wouldn’t be mad if there would happen something between Lando and you,” Carlos tells you for the millionth time. “You’re crazy,” you reply annoyed. 

What Carlos and you both don’t notice is the way Lando is looking for you from the podium. When you look up again, you lock eyes with Lando. He sends you a wink. Fuck. 

After the podium you walk away together with Carlos, you want nothing more then get back to the hotel and sleep. This day was confusing and long, you can’t wait for it to end. Lando notices you walking away, without thinking about it he walks away from the press and starts to get towards you. He hurries and almost runs towards you. When he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter when you feel someone grabbing your arm. Surprised you stop walking and look behind you. You don’t even know if you are surprised or not when you notice that it’s Lando. 

“You’re coming with me,” Lando tells you with a stern voice. Carlos looks confused at the two of you. You can only sigh. What are you going to say to this? You really don’t know. Slowly you nod at Lando, confusing your brother only more. Lando is quick to say a goodbye to Carlos and starts to walk off with you. 

+++

Lando dropped you in his drivers room. He still has media duties, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave in the mean time. While giving interviews and talking with everyone, his mind is focused on you. He can only hope that you’re still waiting for him. 

In the mean time you keep thinking about what to do. You’re stressed out because of everything that’s happening. What will happen when Lando comes back from his interviews? Are the two of you going to talk things out and finally make it right? Or are you going to fight? Or is Lando actually for real and does he wants to fuck you? 

Eventually the stress makes you crazy. You decide to call your brother. Who knows for how long Lando is busy, you really need to talk with someone about this and who’s better then one of Lando his best friends? You know that your brother knows about your earlier feelings for Lando, so you can only hope that he will help you now. What if your feelings return? Or better said, what if you finally realize that they have never left?

“Carlos you really need to help me,” you start to speak when Carlos picks up.

“No, no, you need to tell me what’s going on between Lando and you! He left an interview to pick you up and now he’s doing interviews again? Where are you?” Carlos reacts.

“I’m in his drivers room,” you confess, “but I don’t know what will happen between us.” After that you explain to your brother what happened earlier today when he left Lando and you alone. Carlos chuckles when you tell him about Lando his bold replies. 

“What do you want to happen?” Carlos asks you eventually.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. 

“You do know,” Carlos replies, “you’re just not honest to yourself. But we both know that you’re still in love with Lando.”

Before you can react to those words, Lando is entering his drivers room. You can only pray that he didn’t hear anything from what Carlos just said. “Lando’s here,” you tell Carlos on the phone, “I’ll talk to you later.” Before hanging up you hear Carlos say something childish in the lines of ‘doing it safe’. As if Lando wants something like that to happen you think annoyed.

“What am I doing here Lando?” You ask. 

“I’m getting my reward,” Lando tells you with a small smirk on his face. 

“Your reward?” You ask confused. 

“The chances of you winning the race are as low as the chances of us having sex,” Lando speaks up, “Remember those words babygirl?” 

“What do you want Lando?” You ask him. 

“You.”

Lando his answer makes you shiver. His following movements make it only worse. Without giving it a second thought, Lando pulls you into himself. His finger is under your chin, softly lifting it up for himself. He looks you into your eyes, searching for some sort of approval before he continues with his movements. When you show him a quick nod, he’s sure about it. Lando presses his lips against yours. 

Fuck, you can’t remember the last time a kiss felt so good. Now that you think of it, a kiss probably never felt this good before. It feels like everything is finally falling into it’s place. Lando pulls you as close into himself as he can manage. Your lips don’t leave his. When you feel Lando his hands on your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Lando feels it vibrate against his own. Slowly he pulls back from you. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he doesn’t stop looking at you. 

“What is it babygirl?” He asks you. It’s the first time in a year that the nickname feels sweet instead of sarcastic. 

“Do something please,” you beg. 

Lando is quick to respond to your pleas. His hands find your body. Slowly he explores your curves while he presses some soft kisses on your neck, shoulders and face in the mean time. When Lando his hands are getting lower, you’re quick to lift up your skirt for him. Lando smirks when he notices it. 

“What do you want me to do?” Lando asks you. 

“If you can win,” you softly say, “then you also can fuck me I guess.”

This time Lando doesn’t hide his excitement anymore. He shows you an enthusiastic grin and moves away from you. Before you can complain, he’s already sitting in front of you. He takes off your skirt and starts to trace figures onto your still clothed cunt. He feels how your string is already damp. 

“You guess?” Lando asks you. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him, “just fuck me already.”

Lando removes your string from your body. He moves his head closely to your cunt and presses a soft kiss against your clit. He’s in conflict with himself, he wants to take his time with you and show you exactly what he has to offer but he also just wants to fuck you right now until the both of you are lost for words. 

“Lan,” you whimper.

“Can’t I take my time with you babygirl?” Lando asks you teasingly. In the mean time he pulls down his race suit and boxers. 

“Next time,” you reply.

It makes Lando’s heart miss a beat. You’re thinking about a next time? His smile gets bigger again. He pulls you closer to him and aligns his dick with your entrance. You grab his hair in the mean time and try to get Lando closer towards yourself so you can kiss him again. When Lando lets his dick enter your body, it causes you to let out a loud moan. 

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “waited fucking four years to feel this.”

You barely hear him. Lando his words surprise you. Four years ago the two of you just met. At that time Carlos just got Lando as his new teammate. What does Lando mean with this. Before you can make things more clear for yourself, Lando continues to speak.

“Always wanted to fuck you,” Lando grunts, “Always thought about fucking you.”

Does this mean what you think it means? 

“What about..” You start to ask. “Don’t say her name,” Lando is quick to interrupt you. How does he already know that you’re talking about his ex? “Only got with her so I could forget you,” he confesses. 

“Fuck,” you moan, you don’t know but after Lando his sudden confession the sex feels even ten times better then before. “Always wanted you to fuck me as well,” you confess. 

That makes Lando slow down. 

“Waited four years for you,” you continue to confess.

This time Lando stops moving inside of you. 

“Are you serious babygirl?” Lando asks confused. 

“Yes,” you softly tell Lando, “I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.”

Lando grins, “That’s good,” he says, “Really good.” He picks up his earlier pace and continues to fuck you. When the both of you reached your high, Lando carefully pulls back. He pulls you onto himself. Holding you as close towards himself as he can. 

“Four years right?” You ask Lando. 

“Four years,” he replies with a nod. 

The both of you let out a soft laugh. Suddenly nobody cares about what happened between you two in the last year. Sure, you will talk about it some time. But not now. Lando presses a kiss against your cheek. 

“Did you really think I couldn’t get a win today?” Lando suddenly asks you. 

“Lan,” you softly say, “I always believed you could get a win everywhere.” 

“That’s a girlfriend thing to say,” Lando jokes, “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Do you want me to be?” 

“There’s nothing more I want to,” Lando confesses.

“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend,” you laugh. Lando kisses you again. 

“Let’s grab dinner with your brother,” Lando suggests, “and after that I want you in my hotel room so I can take my time with you.” 

“Deal.”

y/n: want to get dinner with me and my boyfriend?

y/n: he’s a race winner ;)

carlos: finally

[creedslove]

JOEL'S EX WIFE WANTING HIM BACK - HEADCANONS ✨

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi besties!!! Just a small little idea I got while I was watching some good old female rivalry soap opera drama over breakfast ❤️

Warnings: Sarah is a teen here ❤️

• when you got together with Joel, Sarah was already 12, her mom had been gone since she was a baby and though neither of them had any problems about talking about what happened, it wasn't a frequent subject, even if they treated it with naturally, they didn't like talking about it and it was completely understandable, after all, Joel had been abandoned with a weeks old baby and that baby had to grow up without her mother around

• so you always simply decided to pretend she never really existed in the first place, and technically, in your life, she never really did it, because from the moment you began dating Joel, he wasn't her ex-husband anymore, but instead, he was your boyfriend, and Sarah wasn't really her daughter, but your stepdaughter and you both had learned how to love and enjoy each other's company

• you were leading a happy life with the Millers, being part of their household and falling into the same routine as they did, as you spent longer at their place than at your own, until it didn't make any sense for you to keep paying rent, after all, you and Joel were very much together and in love and the natural course of your relationship would be of course, getting married or something like that

• you were happy with your little family, Sarah's issues regarding her mom seemed to be filled up pretty good by you once you joined the family, as she finally had someone she could talk to about boys and other girl stuff. She also really approved yours and Joel's relationship, always commenting on how happy you made her dad and how nice it was to have a more family like routine

• things were good and happy and you couldn't wish for anything more than that, you were as pleased as you could be, and you were pretty sure Joel was the man of your dreams, there was no way you could love someone as much as you loved him and so was the story of how the Millers became a very happy family

• and that was why it shocked the fourth of you - because Tommy was hella shocked as well - when Sarah's mom, Angela, decided to get in touch with Joel; she had found him on Facebook and messaged him, much to his shock, he'd done the same with Sarah, just like that, texting the daughter she'd abandoned as if she was just an old pal saying hello after losing touch for years

• at first, the two of them decided to ignore it, not sure how to act or how to even respond to it, but after a couple of days more in which Angela kept insisting on texting, more like begging Joel for a chance to talk, he decided to talk to his daughter and get to a conclusion together and after considering a lot together, they decided they would answer to her and see what she wanted

• and of course Angela sent quite a few sob sad texts saying how hard things were for her, how much she'd missed her family and mostly her daughter and how she regretted leaving. Joel wasn't quite convinced with that, quite the opposite, he was still bitter and angry at everything that went on, but he could tell Angela's words somehow messed up with Sarah's feelings, after all, she was a reject baby by her mom and at some level, she needed her approval in any way

• so Joel and Sarah agreed to meet up with Angela again, something small, at a coffee shop where they could all sit down and talk things through so they could see how things went between them, you'd also decided not to show up, it was such an intimate moment, you didn't belong in that scenario and you also had no reasons to be suspicious of Joel, you loved and trusted him and he trusted and loved you back, there was no reason to worry about anything at all

• you were genuinely happy to know Sarah had warmed up for her mom and the two of them hit off, having a lot in common and deciding to spend more time together, going on dinners, lunches and movie sessions together; it seemed Angela's presence was a benefit for them, and it was, you liked to see Sarah so happy about her return, it only became a problem when Angela started to show up more and more often at Joel's home

• it was your home too, and as much as you didn't want to be selfish or annoying, you had to admit it bothered you A LOT she was all the time around, at first she started with smaller things, such as visiting you all on Sunday afternoon, or bringing up a dessert, which of course, had to be Joel's favorite and kept gushing about the times they were still married; Angela was a pretty woman, you couldn't deny that, and the fact she seemed so willing to be nice and pleasant around her ex-husband

• and that imposition of her presence into your house and your family was beginning to bother you even more; suddenly, Sarah didn't want to go to the mall with you anymore, instead, she wanted to go with her mom. She didn't want to bake cookies with you anymore because your cookies had that sugar thing in the bottom so she liked her mom's better and as much as you tried understanding Sarah needed and had all the right to enjoy her mom's company and presence, it still hurt you, because you missed Sarah, and yet, it felt as if you weren't important to her anymore

• Seeing the shifts in your dynamics with Sarah, Joel tried to be understanding and even offered himself to talk to her, but you dismissed the idea, it was embarrassing enough you were feeling jealous, you didn't need Joel to get into the middle of that, but it still made you upset when Sarah decided to go to the movies with her mom to watch the newest Ghostbusters movie you two had agreed on going together

• and just as Angela stole Sarah from you, she was more than willing to steal Joel as well: she wanted him, he was even more handsome, his business became successful and he lived comfortably and now Sarah wasn't an annoying baby anymore, it was fun to be around her and she wanted her family back

• so to you, things started going sour when you decided to stop by Joel's business to bring him lunch; you'd prepared him a pretty good lunchbox and you were very excited to see his reaction, however, when you got to his small office, you found him and Angela eating a foot long sub, as it was kind of an inside joke between them from when they were young

"oh shit baby, I had no idea you'd bring me lunch, if I knew it..."

• Joel said wiping his mouth with a napkin as he had sauce on his beard like an idiotic child would and it made your blood boil, Angela simply smirked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing, your gut feeling was right all along, she was a filthy bitch

"it's fine Joel, it's just a sandwich, it's not like you're cheating"

• you didn't know exactly why you said that, it was the first time in your life you had ever said that towards Joel because it had never even crossed your mind there might be a possibility of it happening, but once you said those sour words, an awkward silence, a think tension in the room spread and you felt extremely uncomfortable to be there

"I'm sorry, you can give the lunchbox to Tommy in case he hasn't had lunch if you want, that way the food won't go to waste"

• you told Joel and turned to Angela, you didn't want to hide how much you didn't like the fact she snuck into his office to bring him lunch like a devoted wife

"you know, it's an odd choice to bring your ex-husband lunch instead of your daughter, I'm sure Sarah is starving right now..."

• in the evening, Joel felt very bad about what had happened, he hadn't done anything wrong, but at the same time it was wrong because even if it was just a sandwich, it wasn't about the sandwich but rather who had brought it to him, he knew it had hurt your feelings and he wanted to make it up to you, so he arrived home, using all his charms, his puppy eyes, his sweet talking and his soft neck kisses to convince you to go out with him; he was going to take you out for dinner: at a restaurant, not a bar for beer and burgers, but an actual meal

• you enjoyed your time with him, appreciating his effort to make something nice for you, so you grabbed a table, ordered meals and enjoyed each other's companies, as Joel held your hand and talked about his day, telling you how much he'd missed you and how gorgeous you were, dinner was going smoothly and what happened during lunch time had almost faded from your mind, when you heard someone clearing their throat

"oh hey... Enjoying some romantic dinner? That's a good place, right? Joel used to bring me here every so often, money was very short back then, but he always made an effort"

• Angela gave the two of you a bright smile, loving every single ounce of anger that clearly went through your face, what the fuck was that disgusting woman doing there? Why did she have to ruin your date night like that? It made your blood boiling, Joel immediately sensed the tension and tried coming up with something to say, but Angela just shrugged

"I came over just to grab myself some dinner, excuse me and enjoy your evening"

• she faked sympathy and blew Joel a kiss, knowing damn well the whole evening was already ruined for you, which made her pretty good about herself

• once you got home, you decided to have a heartfelt conversation with Joel, tell him every single thing that was bothering you, after all, communication had always been a big deal for you and it was important for you to open up and be straightforward about the matter, and he agreed with you, he said Angela was crossing the boundary and he assured you he was gonna talk to her

• so during the next few days, things were alright again between you and your sweet Joel; you were still very much in love and Sarah had been so busy with her tests at school, you didn't even hear of Angela's name and you'd be lying if you said you weren't happy about it, it was a relief she wasn't around and you even suggested Joel to make barbecue on Saturday, you'd have an extra shift but then you could enjoy the weekend with your family

• he gladly accepted it and you spent the rest of your week quite excited for it, you liked his barbecue, it was such a dad trait he had and you wanted to spend some time in bed with him too, once you arrived from work, you smiled as you saw Tommy's truck and you could smell the delicious scent of food, as you got off your own car, you went straight to the backyard, smiling from ear to ear

• but it didn't last long, your smile died when you spotted Angela; she was wearing a short summer dress and laughed happily at something Joel said, it must've been so funny because Sarah was laughing too. Angela was holding a bowl of egg salad and the moment she saw you, her own smile died, as if she was the one who had her day ruined by an intruder in her family, and not the other way around

• you frowned as Sarah sighed at seeing you, it didn't take a rocket science genius to see she was disappointed in seeing you there, as if you had got in the way between her mom and dad, you stared at Joel, your eyes filling up with angry tears as he immediately walked to you, holding you by the waist

"baby..."

"I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face and when I come back I don't wanna see this woman here, I've had enough, I don't care if she's your ex or Sarah's mom, she clearly wants to take my place and sometimes I feel like she has already..."

"don't say that, baby girl, that's not true"

"so get rid of her Joel"

• you left to the bathroom so you could freshen up and clear up your mind; hoping she would be gone by then, you didn't want to see her at all, so once you stepped into the kitchen, you were ready to start your weekend, with the exception of the scene before your eyes: Angela's lips on Joel's

• you felt as if you lost the ground from under your feet, and even if Joel shoved her away from him and began apologizing one hundred times, you'd had enough; Angela got what she wanted: you out of the way

• you ignored everything Joel said, as you blinked your tears and shook your head, leaving the house, the house that used to be your home, but now you weren't so sure; maybe all you did all that time was fill up the absence of Angela, and now, that Joel and Sarah had the original one, they didn't need you anymore

• that was only one out of many thoughts that crossed your mind, you didn't want to believe that, you loved Joel and Sarah and you wanted to continue thinking they also love you, but your heart was broken and Joel Miller was to blame 💔

____

[madridfangirl]

Escape

Jude Bellingham comfort blurb.

Summary: Literally the title. Jude finds an escape from ongoing shit with the people he loves the most.

(Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.)

.................................................................................

'Heyy you.'

'Heyy.'

Ananya was met with a glum face and a glum voice when she video-called her boyfriend. Last 2 days were nothing short of hell for him. She had been away for her cousin's wedding in India, but the Clasico had bummed her out as well. They had exchanged messages and had a brief call but the wedding celebrations didn't leave her much time to spend with Jude.

And when she saw the Balon d'or fiasco while scrolling through her insta at the airport, her first reaction was disbelief. She wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall. The travesty and scandal of the whole thing was beyond comprehension.

But she got her reaction out of her system before reaching out to him, knowing he would be 10 times as upset. Just last night he had sent her images of the fully done up suit, along with the classy watch (which she had picked). He had been so excited for the podium finish, to actually attend as one of the best players in the world and not an 'upcoming' player anymore. The post-event party was going to be epic too. But alas - the universe conspired against them real hard.

'How are you?'

'How do you think?'

He responded curtly, then checked his tone immediately.

'Just blah.'

'I know. Me too.'

'When did you see?'

'Just now when I reached the airport.'

She was about to board the connecting flight to Madrid.

'You?'

'Been a few hours.'

'You didn't tell me?'

'Didn't know where you would be. Didn't wanna upset you also.'

Upset was a massive understatement for what she was feeling right now. She wanted to burn down the world. Not just as Jude's girlfriend, but as a Madridista more.

But, she told herself what's done is done. She had to be strong for him. Both of them couldn't have a meltdown at the same time.

'Honestly thought it would be a good distraction from Saturday. But nahh. Man I still can't believe this is true.'

'Me neither. Part of me feels I'd wake up from this nightmare any second.'

'Yeah.'

'When do you go back to training?'

'Day after. Got tomorrow off as well now.'

'Hmm. Denise must be pampering you loads?'

First hint of a smile from the boy, as he thought of his mother fondly.

'Hotdog, pasta, cake, hugs - everything.'

'Awww. Didn't sing you a lullaby?'

She teased fondly.

'Won't put it past her.'

A half-smile again.

Jobe & Mark couldn't make it for the Clasico. Jobe's schedule didn't permit that. The brothers loved nothing more than to be there to support each other for big matches but the realities of their calendars barely permitted that.

Ananya hoped they had been able to make it. Would have been a massive comfort to Jude right now.

But Denise was a superwoman when it came to making Jude feel better & taking care of him. One of the best mums in the world.

Ananya had seen their bond up close for an year now. So she knew he was in good hands.

'She's the best.'

Ananya smiled genuinely at the screen.

'Don't know what I'd do without her honestly.'

He paused for a moment.

'And, without you.'

'Oh you'd walk around the streets crazy if it wasn't for me.'

She shrugged, grinning.

Jude smiled. The kind of smile that recahed his eyes. The ability of this girl to uplift his spirits, just by existing, befuddled him so much.

'How long till I see you?'

'Three hours. Boarding in 5 and coming straight to you from the airport.'

'Come sooner.'

She shook her head fondly at the screen.

'Unless you suddenly turned into Tony Stark and discovered a portal through time & space, not possible to come faster than a plane.'

'Such a nerd.'

'Proud of it.'

'Seriously, come soon.'

'Close your eyes. Take a nap. I'd be there when you wake up.'

Colour drained from his face at her words. He had barely slept AT ALL last two days. Even Denise's cuddles hadn't helped.

'Yeah, will try.'

'Jude, look at me.'

He looked up immediately.

'It's done. It sucks but it's done. Nothing will change it. Don't let it burn you from the inside. Last 2 days were shitty but we can only go up from here, yeah?'

'Easier said than done.'

'With you. 100%. It'd feel shitty for a while but hey, next 1.5 days, lets shut out the world and focus on what's dear to us, what's important, yeah? There is more to life, we both know that.'

'Hmmm.'

'I'll be there by lunch time. Should I get some Toblerone?'

'Yeah.'

'Cool, see you soon baby.'

'Come soon.'

'I'm coming.'

When she landed in Madrid and checked her phone, there were 5 missed calls from Jude. and a message to call him back as soon as she saw it.

Alarmed, she rang him up immediately.

'Hey, where are you? Don't leave the airport.'

'What?'

'We are going to Corsica for a day.'

'WHAT?'

'Mum and I are at the private section of the airport. There is a car waiting for you on arrivals. Sending you the details. Take that & come here. We fly out in 15.'

'Back up. What the hell are you saying? This doesn't make any sense.'

'Makes all the sense. I don't have training tomorrow and you have an off tomorrow. We'll come back early on Wed morning. 2 nights in Corsica. Resort is booked and the flight time is 1.5 hours. I researched, dove. Planned to the T. Now stop wasting time & get here.'

Ananya couldn't register anything he was saying. Freaking out hard at the idea of taking a holiday together with his mum. Sure they had stayed together at his Madrid house many times and she had even visited the family in theri Birmingham home during the summer and she had a good relationship with Denise.

But a holiday with your boyfriend's mum was a big step.

Of all the reasons she had to freak out, she chose the silliest one to voice out loud.

'I don't have any clothes for Corsica.'

'You'd be with me. Why do you need clothes?'

'JUDE.'

'Relax, she's not with me right now. On the phone with dad. Complaining I've gone mad. Her exact words - come get your son he's driving me crazy.'

'I'm with her on this.'

'Did you find the car yet?'

'Yes but Jude..'

'Dove I need this. Can't be here right now. Can't even be in this city. Need an escape. Need you guys. Please?'

There was no way on Mother Earth she could have said no to that voice and those words.

'Ok.'

The plane took off exactly 10 mins later. Ananya insisted on wearing a mask while boarding - the relationship was not public and if there was any chance she was seen with him (Jude insisted it won't happen coz private terminal) then at least they won't get her face.

'Why Corsica?'

'Remote. Pretty. Haven't been there. And you said it's on your list right?'

She had seen the place in a movie and told him about it. Months ago.

'Yeah. But...'

'You shouldn't be the one having to plan all this right now. We should be taking care of you.'

'You are. By being with me right now.'

He leaned down & kissed her, something she was still getting used to in the presence of his family. It had taken Jude some time to understand that PDA worked differently where she came from, and both had gravitated to a midway here.

They landed soon, on a private airstrip of a luxury resort.

Ofcourse.

Ananya didn't even dare to think how much a place like this would have costed. Coz it was luxury personified. Grand sea-facing villas. Normally, she would have told Jude this was too much. But now was not the time. The boy had the right to do whatever he wanted right now.

Instead, she focused on the clear blue waters in sight. And wondered if the place would have a shop to buy at least something appropriate.

The staff walked them to their villa. While Ananya admired the white marbles and fancy chandeliers all around.

'This is us. And that's you, mum.'

Ananya walked in. And kept walking. The place was never ending. Two bed rooms. Three washrooms. Private pool. Sea-facing deck. And a bunch of other rooms she couldn't even understand the purpose of.

'You took 2 villas?'

'Yup.'

'Why? This place can fit a village.'

'Why do you think?'

He said without missing a beat.

'Seriously?'

'I meant what I said about the clothes.'

He said matter of factly, while adding the wifi password to his phone. Leaving his girlfriend gaping at him.

'You can take off that mask now.'

'Oh yeah.'

She had forgotten about that. So lost in this place, and in him.

When his brows furrowed while gaping through his phone, Ananya interved.

'Gimme that.'

'What?'

'No phones while we are here. Let's try that?'

That didn't seem like a bad idea. He did want to forget about the world outside, atleast briefly.

'What should we do then?'

'Lets watch a movie? Ask Denise if she'd be up for it.'

'Naah she's cranky. I literally dragged her out of bed mid-nap. Not knocking on her door now she'll be mad.'

'Cool then we can watch something. On the deck maybe? Sea breeze would be nice.'

'Or we could do some other things. On the deck also if you want.'

She just shook her head at him in exasperation, and he knew it meant a no. But he also knew a no was only for now. She won't keep him waiting for long, not when she wanted to make him feel better.

Honestly, he just did it to get a reaction from her, something he enjoyed a fair bit.

Not having the constant buzz of the phone next to him helped a ton. As did the soothing air. The serenity seeping into his pores.

They watched a random rom-com, with Jude's running commentary on how cheesy it was.

'Please, have you seen you? You are cheesier.'

'Take that back.'

'Nope.'

'Name one cheesy thing I do.'

'Kissing me through the phone?'

'That's not cheesy.'

'Yeah sure.'

The bickering went on, as the movie kept playing in the background.

Denise sent her a quick 'how's he doing?' and she responded with an 'ok.'

After the movie, they did do a few other things he wanted. Not on the deck though, no way she was going to allow that.

It was time for dinner. The resort had set up a table sea-side for them.

'I literally have nothing to wear Jude.'

'Wear my jersey. I have it somehwhere.'

'What a great idea to not draw attention.'

But wearing one of his oversized shirts was the only option. With her jeans.

How badly she hoped she had a dress with her right now. Especially in a fancy ass place like this.

But the shirt, which made her look like a homeless person, will have to suffice. She tucked it in, doing the best she could.

'Don't tell me you're gonna wear a mask here as well.'

'On the way, yes. On the table, it's already dark at the beach.'

He raised his hand in surrender, knowing she'll do what she wanted.

They reached the table and Denise was wearing a supremely elegant dress. And Ananya wanted to jump in the deep waters.

She glared at Jude sideways, and he avoided it pointedly, starting a random conversation with his mum.

Jobe face-timed shortly, and Jude took the phone to show the scenery to Jobe. Denise watched them from a distance, content.

'How was he last 2 days?'

'Oh bad. Very rarely have I seen him like this.'

Ananya hummed.

'But he looks better now. Your being here helped.'

Jude had learnt the matter-of-fact mode of speaking from his mother. He was a carbon copy in this department, and in many other departments.

The said boy returned to the table then, giggling at something Mark was yelling in the background. About Jobe not finishing his dinner.

'I'm 19 dad. 19.'

'19 year old boys don't need to eat anymore.'

'Jobe - why aren't you eating?'

Denise chimed in and Jobe looked distraught.

'You guys - seriously?'

'They're right. You shouldn't skip meals, not on a school night.'

Jude added with a straight face

'Shut up, loser.'

'You're a loser.'

'Ananya - if you love me, you'd make him sleep on the floor tonight.'

She was happily sipping on wine, which she choked on when she heard her name in the middle of the family conversation. And in the context with which Jobe said it.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to string words together, but Jude stepped in to help.

'Who said she loves you?'

That did not help.

'Ananya - tell him you love me.'

'Ummm...'

'Alright stop it boys. Jobe - you have training tomorrow. Go to bed now.'

The ever disciplined Denise made her presence known.

'Gosh you guys. I'm 19. NINETEEN.'

'Still a teen.'

'I hate you, bro.'

'Right back at you, bro.'

They hung up shortly after, with another firm nudge from Denise.

When they were wrapping up, Denise took Ananya to the side.

'He hasn't slept in two days.'

'Yeah I figured.'

'Should we give him something?'

'No I think today maybe different. Let me try. Otherwise lets do that tomorrow.'

'Yeah ok. Just....can you check....'

'I'm on it, Denise.'

She smiled reassuringly at the worried mum. And the mum smiled back.

After the usual activities that night in bed, Ananya sighed softly as she was half-laid over Jude's chest. The shirt from earlier laid crumpled over the floor.

'Told you clothes are not a problem.'

'Oh shushhh.'

The sound of his giggle gave her such joy.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Ofcourse.'

'How are you? Truly?'

'Babe...'

'Please? It's important to talk, Jude.'

He was quiet for 2 minutes.

'Hasn't fully sunk in yet. Either thing.'

'I get it.'

'Makes me question a few things.'

'Like?'

'Like how good I am?'

Jude did not like such vulnerability. But the words just started flowing when he was with her.

'You don't need the validation of THOSE people to know how good you are.'

'What about my people?'

'Like?'

'Club. Coach. Squad.'

'Sweetheart - they know more than your family & friends. They are the ones who put you on this pedestal last year.'

'Am I still there though, on that pedestal?'

'What do you feel?'

'Things have changed.'

'For the better or for the worse?'

'A bit of both sometimes. Don't know how to explain.'

'No I get it.'

'Hmm.'

'And I think you should talk to him. He loves you, you know that.'

It didn't need to be said that they were talking about Carlo.

'It can get messy if I do that.'

'Do it nicely. It'd get messier if you don't. Jude, if your head is not in the right place, you think we have a real shot at winning everything?'

'Am I talking to my girlfriend or a Madridista?'

'Both. And both are telling you the same thing. So listen to both.'

'You know I'm not great at these conversations.'

'That's crazy. You're great at addressing things head on. Just do that.'

'Mum said the same thing.'

'See? I knew it.'

'You're so like her sometimes.'

'Like how?'

'Like how smart you are. How correct.'

'Yeah - well - I'm smart can't help it.'

She giggled and he pulled her up for a sloppy, messy kiss.

'Tell me it'll get better.'

'It's you. You will not rest till it gets better. You will turn the world upside down to make it better. And well, it's Real Madrid. No one can keep us down for long.'

'You really should work at the club you know. They'd love you.'

'My dream job. But my current one pays a lot more.'

'Hmmmm.'

As she laid wrapped in his arms, Jude felt a sense of contentment that had evaded him last 2 days. He thought his world was crumbling down, while his world was right there in his arms. And next door. And in Sunderland. And in Birmingham. The pieces of his heart were around him to make him whole again. Ultimately, that's what mattered. This was the most important thing. And he will turn the world upside down till he gets to the very top of it, again. Which was his rightful place anyway.

............................................................................

Written in 2 hours. Not edited at all.

Just me talking to myself, anything to distract from this mess.

Hope you like it.

[mortal-song]

the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #10

[The Stalker Part 2]

Strange was no longer an expression that could be used to describe your life.

Maddening chaos, a whirlwind of panic, fear, and more sinister things came to mind whenever someone asked you how you'd been. You don't even tell them anymore, some of them declaring you mad for still going on about your stalker after so many months, but there never being evidence to show them. They were scared for you in the beginning, but now they were suspicious of you.

You can feel him at all times. Sometimes, you think he brushes by behind you, or you feel his breath against your neck, his eyes on you at all times. But even so, you never met him. He's been there... and yet he wasn't. He never seems to need a day off from his stalking, his break-ins being more like him coming home every day, and neither the police nor security could catch him.

Even when he started delivering you more sinister gifts, like hands and eyes, whenever you refused him.

You pleaded, begged, and asked him to stop, but he was far from it. He allowed you to live your life, but only on his terms. You were to do what he wanted: eat the meals he prepared for you, take a bath when he ran it for you, and even take time off work when he requested it. Intrusively, he was taking over. And after all the misfortune it brought you, you simply... caved. You were so drained of strength that you let him do as he pleased.

It was a surprise that he even let you do things on your own, like buy groceries. Most meals were pre-made by him whenever you got home, but sometimes, he let you cook instead, expecting you to leave some for when he came to visit. He loved your cooking, expressed it so many times before, and 'rewarded' you for it, although it was never a surprise for him. He was watching you, after all. Every. Step. Of the way.

However, you acknowledged it was better than being stuck at home in fight or flight all day.

You dodged everyone at the grocery store, knowing that talking to someone would make him jealous. It was almost ridiculous how much you danced to his tune, but receiving the hand of a woman whose nails you complimented was lesson enough. Quickly, you gathered what you would need, before hurrying to the self-checkout and leaving the potential dangers of public, your heart aching for the times where you didn't need to fear for other's lives in every setting you were in.

Perhaps it was fate that made you go outside that day, the goodwill of the gods you had prayed to all this time. Still, nothing could have prepared you for the accident that took place just before you could reach your home. A car passed you by just moments before you heard the squeaking of breaks, then the deafening crash of machinery ramming into each other.

Screams echoed out before you could turn around, flames lighting up the early-evening darkness. You heard countless people's footsteps rushing out of their houses and passing you by as you stared at the scenery behind you. Sirens were blaring in the distance as you looked at the body lying on the ground, clothed in black. Someone tried to stabilize the person. Tried to help him.

You'd know him, even when he lay mangled and in pain on the dirty ground. Even without ever knowing his handsome face that became unraveled only when the paramedics deemed it safe enough to pull his helmet off. It was him. Your stalker.

When your eyes met, you witnessed a mixture of pain, devastation, but also... happiness in them. Perhaps because you finally knew. His existence was no longer a shadow that threatened you but a human who bled and hurt and deserved help, despite all his misdeeds. You should have felt sympathy for him, but you were so emotionally drained, you couldn't do anything.

But you also couldn't leave.

There was the person who had made your life a living hell. Who made sure you neither slept nor were awake for the last months, who even made you doubt yourself so many times. Who harassed and abused you to the point it made you want to give up resisting. You weren't sure how severe his injuries were, but part of you hoped he'd die. Perish. Disappear from your life.

And another part... wanted answers.

Why did he do all this, why go to such lengths? What was his goal, and why did he need to go about these things in these particular ways? Who were the body parts from, and where were these victims? What happened to them? And most importantly, why did he choose you?

You'd never have the answers if he died now. He'd be gone, but could you ever return to your old life without the answers? Could you live with yourself knowing people died and you survived by pure chance? Because something happened to him before he could do it to you? If he died, you'd never get justice for anyone. Everyone would keep believing you made all of this up. You'd be miserable, and he'd won.

As if he realized your inner tumult, he smiled before turning his head over and putting on his best pained expression towards the medics. Slowly, he raised his arm, pointing towards you and saying some words you couldn't hear, but the paramedics' heads snapped around, suddenly calling out to you.

"Hey! You're his spouse, right? Your husband needs to get to the hospital asap! You can drive with us!"

They didn't wait for you to respond before they started loading him on a gurney, your stalker never looking away from you. As if to say, "You want the answers? Come to me."

Your home was so close that you could run and hide inside, but you might lose the chance to ever get the answers that you'd want or need for your future therapy. Would you ever recover, not knowing if he survived or not? When he'd be back? This could be your last chance to figure things out and bring him to justice, or at least be sure he wouldn't come back to haunt you.

"Hurry!" one of the medics shouted, rushing to your side, perhaps to aid you as they might have thought you were in shock after seeing your husband like this. There was not much time, and you had to decide what you wanted to do immediately.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[nariism]

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you. 

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside. 

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation. 

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it. 

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle. 

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore. 

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two. 

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest. 

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

[grapejuicestyless]

Every Road Leads Back To You.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n have always been life long friends. A friendship that fell apart with his fame, but came back with hers.

From the moment they knew what a friend was, it seemed that Harry and Y/n had been that. Two friends who spent each and every second together. Sharing crayons in pre-school. Harry’s red wax scribbled on a thin sheet of paper to Y/n’s deep blue. Together they made purple.

They always shared, without realizing they did. Always so giving to one another, so gentle. They held each other closely, never alone. Always one step to the side of the other.

In elementary school, Y/n shared the sweetest candies with Harry when his mother insisted on packing healthy foods to help him grow up strong. Always letting him pick off what he wanted first before taking her share of the sweets. A smile plastered on their faces and chocolate smeared across their cheeks.

By middle school Y/n was buying all her shirts a few sizes too large. A habit she picked up so Harry could borrow anything he wanted, just as she had done to him. Raiding his clothes each sleepover and keeping them until he all but took them back. Something he said he found slightly annoying, but the redness on his cheeks and the guilty pleasure of seeing her in his clothes was nice. Only dueling his little kid crush on her. Nothing they had was ever just theirs. It always connected right back to the other but neither of them minded. They completed each other in so much more than materialistic ways. While a shared shirt or a worn down crayon box was a nice reminder of their invisible tie on one another, their constant presence and kindness that was reflected special for one another really completed them. Each becoming the better half of the other in their eyes. Something that was rare and so pure.

High school was the first ending between them. Each day spent together, hours dedicated to hearing Y/n’s laugh and Harry’s horrible jokes that she adored for reasons nobody else could quite get like she did. Homework was copied, tests were failed and tears were shed all on his bedroom floor like they always had been. And they remained together. It was their graduating year that Y/n gave Harry his final gift, one that neither had thought to be the last. Y/n had signed Harry up for X-Factor. A competition Anne and her had always encouraged him to apply for as he had such a raw talent. Harry believed that they were only saying that because they loved him, but Y/n believed he was the best singer in the world.

He went on the show. The Styles family excited waiting backstage in the T-shirts Y/n had made. Showing support even when she wasn’t allowed to be there. A touch only the family would know existed until the end of time.

By the time Harry was placed into a boyband, inching closer and closer to the end of the competition, it seemed he was growing more and more into someone you’d only ever read about in the latest edition of Vogue. His boyish demeanor never changing and his kindness strong, but his time diminishing quicker than anyone could’ve bet on.

So Harry no longer had time to be with Y/n ever minute anymore. No longer dedicating hours on his floor, back aching almost as hard as his cheeks from his smile. No longer joking about everything under the sun with her, no longer taking her shirts and trading off his as a fair deal. It all ceased to exist. And Y/n faded away into obscurity. Falling far from her role as Harry Styles’ best friend and into only his origin story.

………………………………………………………………………………..

One Direction was over. Whether the world chose to accept it or not. The promised return after the break becoming more and more obvious as one that fell through as the years continued to roll on.

It was always hard for Harry, being on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he had grown to be self sufficient over the last decade. Learning how to do things on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, it was that he had never mastered liking being alone. Always longing for a companion. Someone he could share everything with. Someone he could count on to laugh at even his worst jokes. Not just to humor him, but because they believed he was the funniest person on the planet. Someone that could give as much as he did. Someone who didn’t mind sharing.

Someone like her.

Over the years, Harry always thought about her. The reminiscent sound of her laughter still new and familiar to his ears. Something that he vowed to never forget. She always loved his jokes. Eyes constantly crinkled and teeth showing.

She gave too. Gave everything she ever owned to him in a joint custody. An unwritten rule between them. That no object was nearly as important as they were to each other. No job, no paycheck, no ranking in education could ever mean more than they did to each other. Harry still had some of her shirts. Bowie, Mercury, Buckley, Nicks. All the greats spread across some of his favorite shirts.

Everything about her was his favorite. Even after all this time. He’d had four boys to call his best friends all these years. Everyday spent together, bunk beds under one another and socks mixing together in their laundry loads, but nothing ever shared in the same way he had with her. His love for them not the same as it was for her.

That sense of loneliness always lingering in the back of his mind. Maybe a tinge of regret. He always wished he hadn’t let himself get pulled away from her. Maybe then she would be there, laughing with her head in his lap, mouth muffled against the denim on his thighs as she rolled around, holding her stomach and warning him that she just might piss herself.

Maybe they could’ve become more. Her hand in his and his lips on hers. A daydream he used to think about in middle school. One that faded away as his crush had. But now he would never see her again. Never hear her laugh or know how her smile changed with her age. He bet that it was just as beautiful, if not more. Just as welcoming. Just as genuine. But he would never know, as Harry had no idea were she was, where she had gone. Her phone number belonging to someone else now and all social medias deactivated and unused. She had truly slipped from his life, only to remain a wonderful memory. Until recently.

Like some unworldly creature had been guiding him, watching him and helping him, Harry had found her. It wasn’t in person, by any means. Her physical presence still as empty as it had been these past years. The loneliness still lingering and the regret still as sharp. But he had seen her. And everything he had ever wondered about her had been true.

For there she was, her face looking out an older looking window, surrounded by some of the biggest names. Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Timothée Chalamet, Saoirse Ronan. There was his beautiful Y/n, the girl who always dreamed of Broadway and movies was on the movie poster for the new adaptation of Little Women.

Something about it felt so right. The way she aged like fine wine, looking just as youthful as she did in her later teen years now even in her mid twenties. The way she had made it into a large project, something she always dreamed of, and something Harry had always wanted for her as well. A accomplishment that she deserved more than anyone. That and the knowledge that her name, Y/n Y/l/n was scribbled under the quiet, yet kind character, Beth. Someone Harry believed fit her perfectly. As to him, Y/n was the best of anyone he’d ever loved. Even all these years later, Harry still believed she was something of an angel that was sent straight from heaven just for him. The better parts of him and the even better parts of her beside him for what should’ve been eternity, but were taken away without reason.

He tried not to be weird when he passed it. Trying with all his willpower to not stop and stare for an uncontrollably long amount of time. Yet, his feet grew heavier with each step by until he fell to a stop. Mouth opened slightly and eyes sparkling with joy and wonders. He looked like a young boy again, excited over something short of Christmas in his eyes. The best gift of all had been granted to him, the knowledge that his best friend was doing just fine.

Harry was quick with his fan girl natures over her. Sneaking a quick photo underneath his coat sleeve and turning his brightness down to such an aggressive dimness that only he could quite see what was on his screen. His fingers wandering away from the photos app and searching her name, trying to find anything out about her.

Y/n Y/l/n. A twenty five year old actress who had stared in a handful of critical acclaimed films now, and earned spots on a few well established television shows. How could Harry have not known? Had he really been so caught up in himself that he couldn’t see his old friend rising to a similar status as his? How could he have not known she was in so many different projects, many he had even planned to watch himself. How could he have been so blind to his Y/n, who had been just a few steps away from his reach, who had continued to stay by his side all while he thought she was somewhere far away?

It seemed almost absurd, the whole situation. Someone who was so involved in the media not knowing about a very popular actress, who just so happened to be his best friend. But it was true. Harry barely spent time on social media anymore, not enjoying it the same as he did in the band. And his feed was mainly just his new friends, any posts of other celebrities unseen. Deep down, Harry knew it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. How could he have? There was no way to ask her, no way to reach her. But even then, he felt that the drifting was his fault to begin with.

He wanted to blame it on his tour schedule and his long studio hours he spent locked away from the real world in order to create something he loved. But in reality, Harry could only feel selfish. Selfish that he couldn’t even be bothered to pay enough attention to the rest of the world to see what was always there.

He tried not to overthink it, letting it slip into the back of his mind as he geared up for promotions and lavish parties that tumbled his way, schedule too full to be worried about someone who had probably already forgotten those years and their secrets. Someone who had probably stopped caring long ago. And so even as the thought sat in the back of his mind, Harry did what he always had. Shoving himself into his work until the rest of the world and his worries melted into a nothingness.

………………………………………………………………………………….

It had been the night of a Gucci event. Something so prestigious to the outsider, but to Harry seemed more tame compared to the other events he was being dragged to. One that he could relax at knowing he had some familiar faces being in attendance.

He had worn his nicest suit. A simple white set with a ribbed tank top underneath. Pink sunglasses large on his face, but in a way he managed to make it look good. Hair tamed but free at the same time. To say he looked good was an understatement. Because Harry looked damn good, and he felt it too.

Not only had his appearance been a confidence booster, but the immediate finding of some of his friends helped to ease his mind from the pain of small talk. He had gone over lines he would say to new people, wanting to make friends and be kind, but felt more calm around those who already knew him.

It went smoothly, at first. His posture slightly slouched and drink held loosely in his hand. Eyes glued to the circle of people that had formed in the corner of the large room.

He felt comfortable, at ease with the whole night. It seemed that even in the beginning of the event he could see how it would end. With the professionalism fading away the deeper everyone grew into their drinks, and he would slip upstairs with a smaller group to do some questionable things, forget he did them in the morning and regret it while he was over the toilet by the afternoon.

A hot mess he would’ve taken any day over the hot mess Harry was about to become.

If he could’ve shattered his glass without facing consequences of it, he would’ve. Harry would’ve broken the glass and stared as hard as possible if it were acceptable. But it wasn’t, so when the all too familiar laughter, the same one that he could recognize anywhere as if it were one he still heard everyday just barely made it to his ears, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing and his eyes from widening.

Just beyond Alessandro, someone Harry had worked with in the past and was comfortable enough to call a friend with, was the one woman who haunted him innocently as a ghost.

At first he believed he was seeing things. His drink could’ve been spiked, for all he knew. He could’ve had one too many, even if he was only two drinks in and was nowhere near a lightweight after all his teen years conditioning to stomach the drink. But with the soft rub of his knuckle to his eyes and a few clear blinks, he could see it was true.

She glowed, standing out even in a room full of the most well known names. Her hair straightened until it was absolutely pin straight, the front pieces slicked back behind her ears into a sleek look. Her clothing similar to Harry’s, ironically. She wore a suit as well. The fabric the same shade of white and her face wearing glasses just as big. The inside the same shade of orangish-pink, the rims thick and black. A classic look that was perfect in her fact.. The only thing that seemed different was the fact that Harry had worn a tank top beneath his suit coat. She had a white vest underneath hers. One that acted as her shirt, and made her look that much better. She even had the same lazy grasp on her drink that Harry had on his.

She had been talking to someone Harry hadn’t recognized when he spotted her. Laughing at something the other woman had said genuinely before beginning her goodbyes. Her hands laying over the older woman’s gracefully and her head tilting down to excuse herself. How ironic that Harry would catch her slipping away, just as she had watched him do all those years ago.

Watching her walk away felt like his leaving all over again, and something snapped inside of Harry.

All these years of wondering, of regret and wishing that she was there had finally built up enough to make him forget that he was meant to stay and mingle. Make himself look good for future promotion of his upcoming album, Fine Line.

“Excuse me, sorry. I have to use the bathroom.” Harry hadn’t meant to be rude, but his eyes just couldn’t slip away from her fleeting frame, hands stuffed in her pocket and hair flying behind her.

His footsteps were rushed and quick, the warmness of the party turning into the darkness of the night the closer he got to the exit. Front door still wide open and the streets abandoned. Paparazzi not yet lined up on the sidewalks. He could see it now.

His broad shoulders had brushed another’s in his panicked state, soft sorry’s exchanged and his eyes becoming forced away from the only person in the room that seemed important in the moment.

The air was cold and with each heavy breath Harry could see a faint puff of his own breathe in front of him. He had lost sight of her quick, in his incident inside. His focus only lost for a beat, but long enough for the girl to slip away into the night like a ghost. It was only when he’d turned the corner, feet planted and chest heaving underneath a flickering lamppost that he saw her. The elegant woman smiling and thanking the driver whose car she’d began to get into.

He wanted to scream, to call out her name. Yell at her to stay, beg her to recognize him. But all that came from his lips was a heavy silence. Harry realized he hadn’t rehearsed what he should say to her. How do you speak to someone who knows you in and out after drifting so far apart and losing everything you once loved about each other? How do you reconnect? It was much too late to think about that, even in his jumbled mess of a head, he let his head speak.

“Y/n!” It came out staggered. Out of breath and winded from rushing out to get to her before she left. Feet heavy again on the pavement, goosebumps aggressive underneath his smooth suit. He was hell for leather in this moment, desperately trying to reach her.

His attempt was poorly timed, and just as they had all those years ago, the pair had slipped out from each others grip without realization of what was happening. Neither of them at fault, the only thing to blame was the lack of awareness that seemed to hurt them each and every time.

Y/n drove off in the opposite direction, oblivious to who had been shouting for her, who had been all but on his knees, begging for her to come back so they could see each other again. It looked pathetic, and he felt just as much. But Harry would much rather feel pathetic than regretful. A feeling it seemed the universe ordered him to continue feeling.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Y/n never knew what happened that night, and maybe she never would. It was ironic, and all together idiotic that the pair, who had always been so in sync with each other had fallen out of it.

If there was one thing for certain that they still had, and would always have, it was the known fact that no matter where they were pushed or pulled, they could never stay apart for too long.

With each new release of an episode from some corny, yet brilliant series or the premieres of a highly anticipated film, it only became more and more apparent that she would forever be a name cemented into Hollywood pop culture. The crowds of paparazzi and cheerful fans lining the exit to each shop she visited usually only furthering it. Her presence at lavish and exclusive events becoming something that was regular.

So it wasn’t out of the blue that Y/n would be spending her night at yet another gathering. Yelling and dancing with another well established name in Hollywood, and one of her good friends at some random celebrities party. The lights blinding her and the music way too loud. That was the one thing that had changed over the years, with her status in the world.

Y/n used to adore this kind of thing. The constant moving, the sweat and the coolness of a hard drink soothing the intense heat of a club. She loved being social, partying only to regret it in the morning.

It wasn’t that Y/n had become dull, no quite the opposite. Y/n was always the life of every party. The one starting the stupid drinking games and cracking way too many jokes, laughing hard at the ones being told. It was the fact that everything was just so fast paced. Waking up too early and going to bed too late, Y/n longed for those quiet nights alone more and more. Loving being able to curl up with a friend or two and just enjoy the night intimately. Something she’d always loved, but something that she had grown to love even more now.

Still, she let herself be persuaded into nights like tonight, three drinks in before midnight and makeup smudged in rockstar kind of way. She had glitter over her eyelids and a devilishly lustful smile painted across her face. The alcohol bringing out the flirt within her.

So she let herself grind up against the man she had come with. No one more than a friend to her, but someone she trusted enough to let loose with. Someone with the same mindset as her.

And with her head thrown back against his shoulder, hands running down his neck and his fingers pressing into her hip bones firm, it seemed like nothing else in the world would matter. Maybe the headlines would be crazy if someone caught them being so scandalous, being so free, or maybe no one would care. A risk that was all too fun, all too familiar.

The laugh she let out was one of pure joy, eyes snapping open and head leaning back up. She slowed, stepping away from her friend. His eyes opened too, missing the feeling of her body on his. She waved her hand, signaling she was okay, always one step ahead, already expecting his worried expression and questions.

“I just need to sit for a minute, sorry.” She downplayed it, acted like she was only getting tired when in reality, the whole room was spinning at a forty five degree angle. Her brain mush and lipstick wearing down from its crisp red to a smudged pinkish color.

She found a home in a well worn leather couch, tucked away in the back of the room. The music still loud but the lights not as intense. She could feel herself finding her grounding all while the leather stuck to her thighs and swallowed her into a comfortable slump.

Eyes heavy, she swore she could’ve fallen asleep. She would’ve let herself too, if it were not for the all too familiar voice that just passed her by.

Even with the music pounding and the distant ringing that was leaving her ears now, she could make out the faint conversation, catching the ending of, “-so maybe in December? I’ll be home by then and we can totally try!” It was all so enthusiastic and light. The accent not too strong but present. One that was similar to hers. She was sure she knew who it belonged to, and in her curiosity, everything he assumed was true.

There, only a few feet from where she sat, she caught a glimpse of those all too recognizable green eyes. Ones that seemed fake, like contacts but were deeper and less intense the closer you looked. A deep green. Emerald even. And his dimples just as deep.

She rubbed her eyes, glitter residue on her knuckles. Blinking hard and swallowing, she squinted. Was she dreaming?

No, she decided. He was there. In the middle of a sea of people, just as youthful and energetic as she remembered. It felt sort of bitter, seeing him now. How after all these years of nonstop thinking of him, there he was. Easily accessible and closer than she could’ve wished. Y/n practically drank up his appearance. He was just as beautiful as the day he left. It was emotional, weirdly enough. Everything rushing back. How now, they had spent more time apart than together probably. The distance killing her slowly all while he lived a good life. She wondered if he thought of her like she did of him. If he missed her like she missed him. She wanted to know.

So, pushing herself up by her knuckles, leaving a trail of glitter, Y/n weaves between the crowd. His name on the top of her tongue, eyes blinking rapidly to drown out the lights shining down. Flashing and moving too quick.

He was moving, fast. Walking with a friend of a friend, a taller man who looked about the same age but gave the vibe that mentally, he was more mature.

“Harry!” She shouted, her voice falling mute to the loud music and side conversations. A hand found her wrist, pulling her away from him, just as she almost broke away from the crowd. As she almost reached him.

“I thought I lost you, dude!” Tom had joked, his voice loud and light. Y/n turned her gaze away from where Harry stood for a moment, making sure it was really her friend that had her in his hold. And only after seeing his curly hair and half buttoned up shirt did she look back.

Her gaze was met with the emptiness of the space where her old friend once resided. Frantically, she searched from where she stood idly, but he had gone quicker than he had came. Almost like in her tipsiness, he was a figment of her imagination.

But she was sure he was real, she could feel it. She hoped it too. Y/n eventually managed to unstick her eyes from the blank space, finding her attention locked on Tom’s lopsided smile and his heaving chest. She allowed a smile to spread across her cheeks, letting go.

Even then, while playing pretend and seeming like everything was fine, in her head she couldn’t quite enjoy the night the same, mind clouded by what could’ve happened, what could’ve been. And in that moment it felt like the wound of missing him had torn again, cutting deep into her chest and causing a shut down in her heart.

The rest of the night would only be spent in the ways she had expected it to when it started. With her drunk, glitter everywhere and lips smudged. What she hadn’t expected was the regret of not trying harder to reach out to Harry and letting him get away again to be so strong in her mind.

The wishes that he was still there no longer just lingering thoughts. Selfishly, Y/n began to pretend that Tom was Harry, the drunker she got. His name almost slipping past her lips while they danced.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The air was crisp, the moon high. Even the softest breath could be seen, exposed in the cold December evening. The lampposts lights shining a translucent yellow that stretched across the pale pavement.

It was quiet, at this time of night. Late enough that the world was toeing a line between early morning and the latest parts of night. The clock inching closer to midnight with every passing second.

The world was asleep, the only sounds emitting into the once busy streets in the outskirts of London being the faint rustling from inside the twenty four hour pharmacy, the sharp crunch of hardening snow beneath his feet and the soft melodies that filled Harry’s earbuds, swallowing him into a world of his own. He had forgotten a few things at the market on his way home, and knew if he didn’t get them now, his future self would scold him for it in the early morning.

So there Harry was. He walked with his head down, one hand stuffed so tightly in his pocket, the warmth of the small enclosed space causing the palm to sweat a little, even in the cold. His other hand wrapped firmly around his phone, he searched his playlist for another song, wanting to find the perfect one to encapsulate this moment, cement the beauty of an untouched snowfall on the deserted streets of one of his favorite places.

“Umph!” It was muffled, when it fell against his ears. Music blasting still. Almost so quiet that he could have missed it, if not for the confirmation someone else was now with him with the very clear contact his body had made with another’s.

Harry let his hands tug at the wire leading to his ears, putting a pause to the noise that had swallowed him while for a moment. Ready to form some sort of short apology and be on his way, he took the chance to look up in search of the others eyes.

But what Harry found was something short of what could only be described as some sort of destiny.

Mirroring him, her hand stuffed into one pocket and the other pausing the music that had also seemingly taken her consciousness briefly, stood an old friend. One that haunted him every night, it seemed. Ever since his discovery of her.

“Y/n?” He meant to apologize, he really did. But in that moment he remembered having uttered her name too late all those nights ago, so it seemed that his heart was desperate to get it out in time now. Get her attention and never lose it again.

Her face was one that reflected his own. Eyes flickering up from her phone, mid-stuffing it into the empty pocket, headphones hanging down by her waist. And as hers met his, the whites surrounding the irises grew just as the slight parting of her mouth did. She looked equally as shocked as she did happy, in that moment. The circle of her mouth curling into a slight smile.

“Harry.” She breathed out, sounding breathless, he had taken it away. Seeing him that close, something Y/n had dreamed about for years, felt surreal. She could reach out and touch him, now. That’s how close they were. Like old times.

Harry took the time to inspect her before saying anything else, wanting to take her in a moment longer. Her shoes were just as well loved as all pairs of hers were. And her jeans were just as worn in as the deep blue puffer jacket that just about swallowed her whole in its size. One that had a slight tear in the left sleeve and ripped up fabric on the zipper. One Harry recognized to be his own.

Knowing Y/n had kept the jacket, after all these years, and even still wore it sent something through his body. An electric shock, his heart beating faster, body suddenly getting hot in all these layers. He felt good, seeing her still proudly showing off things that were his, but guilt soon took over.

What if she had only kept it because it was the only thing left to remind her of him? The only thing he had left for her? She wouldn’t have needed to keep it if he had been around. Had stayed by her side like they had dreamed about. His hand in hers.

“Is that my coat?” Harry felt stupid that, that was the question he thought of to break the silence. He could’ve asked her how she’d been, or what she was doing in London, but instead his mind stayed stuck on his jacket, a detail only he would ever realize was so intimate.

She blushed, at his question, looking down briefly as if she had no idea what she was wearing. Downplaying it in her own embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d want it back. I found it in my closet when I was packing my stuff.” Y/n flashed the warmest smile she could, one that hit directly at Harry’s heart.

“I can’t imagine it smelled too good.” He cracked a smile of his own now. It wasn’t the funniest joke, only one to help lift the heaviness of them meeting, but Y/n still laughed. It was quieter now that it was later and only for him to hear, but it felt just as good as it did all those years ago.

“No, it smelled good. Smelled like you.” Her eyes didn’t leave his when she said it, highlighting the unspoken fact that even after all this time apart, even after he had left her, she still thought of him fondly. She still loved him the same.

“Mm, teenage boy musk.” Harry joked again, feet starting to move, he let his hand find the small of her back, spinning Y/n so she was walking with him now. Something they’d both done half on purpose, but mostly subconsciously. Totally focused on just being beside each other again. Y/n let out a breathy laugh this time, swatting his arm playfully. Harry let out a fake groan, holding his arm even though it didn’t hurt in the slightest. And the sidewalk fell quiet, Y/n searching for what she wanted to say next.

“It smelled like vanilla. Like your old house and that bakery you used to work in. Like childhood.” She couldn’t have described it better. For every lingering scent that had stuck to the fabric in her old closet smelled like growing up. It grounded her. It reminded her that even when she got all big and well known, she always had a place back home. That she could always come back and hide away in her rocket ship bedsheets that Harry had permanently tinted blue after washing them with his.

He loved knowing that she thought of him still, he figured she would like the same.

“You know, I still have every single one of our old shirts.” Our. Not his, not hers. But our. Because that’s what they were, there’s. They shared them. Bought them with the other person in mind, shared them like they’d both bought it. Like they both owned it.

Going back to that, Harry began to realize just how right Y/n was in her description of the jacket. Even though Harry barely wore the shirts anymore, it wasn’t because he stopped loving them. No, they were just as special now as they were back then, but he hadn’t had her like he did then. He didn’t have her constantly around to stick to the shirts and remind him that they also belonged to another. Harry hadn’t worn them because they still smelled of her. Of cinnamon and strawberries. Of early morning breakfast and wet April rain. It smelled like all the places and things she’d done. It smelled like childhood. He worried that if he wore them now, he would lose that one last memory of how she smelled. Of who she was.

But now here he was, right beside Y/n, and she still smelled the same. Sweet and fresh, like she had never left. Harry was sure he smelled just the same now. His scent still vanilla and his love for baking still as strong. He hoped he smelled the same, wished he brought that same closeness to Y/n’s heart as she did to his now.

“They still smell like us.” He wanted to say they smelt of her, but he thought it might be too much. Y/n almost wished he had only said that it smelled of her, but she knew that Harry was always going to be less forward than her. Just a little bit shyer than her in his feelings.

The conversation carried away from their old relics of childhood memories and into more recent things. But the entire time, it flowed just as easy. They’d managed to catch up without really aiming to catch up. It just sort of happened throughout their conversation. Just like their friendship had started, they had shared themselves with one another, shared everything without realizing it. And in it, Harry realized he hadn’t gone to the pharmacy like he intended, but instead had walked past it. He knew that in the morning he would still need those things he’d forgotten, but he wouldn’t be mad. Because now he had something better. He had his Y/n back.

………………………………………………………………………………….

In the next few weeks, Harry and Y/n found themselves with their phones glued to their ears. The others voice filtering through the speakers. They talked everyday again. Hours on end like they used to. They hung out in every free minute they had. Like they were always meant to. In that, they found that they had done so much more than just miss the other. They had longed and desired one another. Always wondering, always thinking about the other.

In the new time spent together, their lives intertwining once more, Y/n realized she never wanted to miss Harry again. She never wanted to loose him like she had before. Her heart had grown too fond of him to let him go. And for Harry, he remembered why he had, had such an intense crush on her when he was just a boy. It was so cheesy, how he had fallen for her so quickly again. But you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. And they had, had a lot of distance to help that grow.

So the pair became more than friends, it seemed. The best friends enlightening everyone on their long, hard road to each other, all with their hands in one another and Y/n’s lipstick staining the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s fame had taken him away, but in some sort of luck, hers had brought them back together.

[mixsethaddams]

Steve and Eddie having a truly vicious argument. It ends up with both of them having sore throats from screaming. Their ears are ringing from slammed doors.

Steve’s hand is bleeding from punching a wall. Eddie’s foot is throbbing from kicking a cabinet. It’s the worst they’ve ever been.

They’re both standing staring at each other, breathless with heaving chests, wondering what vitriol to spew next.

But it’s in this moment they each realise that the other is crying.

Tear stained faces overtake everything and they fall into each other immediately.

They hold each other tight and say they’re sorry, they’ll do better, they promise to talk about it without flying off the handle.

Because nothing matters more than Steve making sure Eddie’s knows he’s safe, and Eddie making sure that Steve knows he’s loved.

The fight doesn’t matter anymore. It was trivial anyway, it snowballed into yelling for the sake of making noise and neither could barely remember how it even started.

All that matters is that they’re sitting together on the floor now, wrapped up together, promising that the future they’ve dreamed of still exists. They just need to make sure they put in the work to make sure they get there.

[mulderscully]

having deep thoughts about nandermo again. like. they really do have, in my personal opinion, the most fasinating m/m relationship of all time simply because they are such a slowburn relationship that it allows for their relationship to grow and develop gradually and for us as an audience to become as attatched to them as they are to each other which is something i really miss in most lgbtq+ media.

i keep thinking about how much their relationship has changed from season one to now and how when you look back, so much about it just clicks together perfectly.

what stands out to me after 5x05 is nandor telling guillermo that they (really him, obv) are fine without him, when we see over and over again that this is absolutely not true. and so much of this ties back to how the foundation of their relationship as master and familiar is about the fact that guillermo wanted so desperately to be a vampire, perhaps out of some sense of needing to belong somewhere. along the way, at some point in over ten years, their relationship stopped being about that. at some point they grew to love each other- and tbh it does not matter if that love is platonic or romantic or somewhere in between. they love each other in a way neither of them really understands or want to face.

this is so much more evident through nandor, and it's such fantastic storytelling because while they have this massive inherent power imbalance, the writers flipped the script and made guillermo more powerful than nandor in every way - physically, emotionally, mentally! and this isn't a slight to nandor. nandor likes that guillermo is strong and could kill him! and the only reason either of them is alive is because the love they have exists beyond vampire/slayer and master/familiar.

the juicy part though, is that nandor has obviously been afraid of guillermo being turned because then he won't have any real reason to stay, to be with him, to take care of him. and in season five, unknowingly, this is actually what is happening and it's why nandor is so desperate. he can feel something is different about guillermo, he can feel the distance between them that he has always feared - but he doesn't understand why it's happening. he just knows he feels unseen by the only person who has ever seen him and that causes him to lash out despite all he wants is guillermo to want him just as bad.

AND GUILLERMO DOES! because if he didn't love nandor, why does he hide that he has become a vampire? why does he stay? why does he keep being a familiar, despite getting what he always THOUGHT he wanted? because he loves nandor. because it's not about being a vampire, and maybe he doesn't even want it anymore because he had already become powerful in his own way. he also just wants nandor to see him. and because he loves nandor so much he is purposely creating this distance between them. the show has established multiple times that guillermo can fend for himself, esp now with vampire strength on top of what he already had. he isn't afraid of nandor killing him. he's afraid of hurting nandor, he's afraid of nandor killing himself.

it's just so good: it's SO good. this is not the type of relationship that can be told in a season or two. i love enjoying this ride.

[sorchathered]

Sweet Home Texas pt. 2

A/N- hey yall just a little something I wrote while I was traveling today, I don’t know how often I’ll get to update after this with the move rapidly approaching but I had some free time. :)

Pairing- Jake “hangman” Seresin x Oc Ella Mcree

Warnings- angst, language

“I can’t do it anymore.” She said with a heaving sob as she crumbled in on herself, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if she were holding herself together.

“I’ve been with him for almost 20 years, I don’t know any other way of life but this is…this isn’t a life anymore! Happy moments are almost non-existent, I can’t even remember the last time he prioritized me before his job or his friends, hell I don’t think we’ve even been on a date in at least a year. We are constantly biting each other’s heads off, everything I do seems to be wrong or met with a condescending look. I’m not a child! I’m a 35 year old woman with a thriving career! Just because he has some kind of god complex as a pilot doesn’t give him the right to treat me like I’m stupid. I don’t want to be mean, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t think I can be married to him anymore. Love shouldn’t feel like this, love shouldn’t hurt like this. If the end goal is to be together for 50 + years and hate every minute of it then I don’t want it. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Jake but I won’t do this anymore.”

Jane Wyatt had been seeing Ella and Jake Seresin for couples therapy for nearly 6 months now, and in that time their relationship had shown no growth. Jake dug his heels in and fought Ella at every corner, he knew he worked too much and probably could have put more time into them but he maintained that she knew this was his dream and he was trying to make it to the top. One day things would be easier, she just had to wait it out.

Ella felt like she was dying on the vine, she had put her life on hold for Jake for so long and now that she was thriving in her career and fast tracking it to become the cfo of a major company in San Diego suddenly Jake couldn’t handle it. Having her at home barefoot and pregnant had never been a part of their plan, they both knew it but he felt like he was losing control and took it out on her. Accusations of cheating when she worked late hours, nitpicking everything she did, he didn’t mean to make her feel small but something in his subconscious just wouldn’t let it go. The house was burning from the inside out and he was refusing to throw water on the fire, they’d burn down together and stay married and maybe one day they’d crawl their way out of it.

Jane watched the scene unfolding in front of her, Ella falling apart and Jake white knuckling the chair across from her, jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. She knew what the diagnosis was and it was one of the worst parts of her job.

Being a couples counselor was not for the weak, and she knew that at one point the two people in front of her had been head over heels in love. But this wasn’t the same couple from twenty years ago, and it wasn’t helping either of them to stay on a sinking ship.

“I’m sorry to you both, you’ve spent over half your lives together and I know this is not how either of you saw it going. My professional opinion? It’s time to take a step away from each other, whether that be for a few months or in dissolving your marriage can’t be determined yet, only time can answer that. But neither of you are good for each other right now, and my opinion is unchanged. You need to let each other go and find out who you are without each other. It’s the only way to move forward.”

Jake was out of his seat and out the door before she even finished, Ella crying out for him as he made his way to the elevators and out to his truck. He finally let himself break when he was alone, he knew it took two people to build a life but he had pushed her to this point. He knew she’d been unhappy and he had done nothing to stop it, nothing to change it, just expected her to push through like they always had. He didn’t know who he was without her, he’d never even kissed another woman before her; how was he supposed to just move on? The thought made him feel physically sick. He couldn’t go home, so he called his wingman, Javy Machado to admit defeat and ask for a place to stay.

That was nearly four years ago, Jake replayed that awful afternoon over in his mind in bed after he’d seen you at the bar tonight, you’d looked damn good. Still all fire and sharp wit, and it reminded him just how far apart you’d grown in the time since then. He had hoped if he gave you space to grow and learned the tools he needed to work on himself that the universe would bring you back together, but it hadn’t. That is until you walked in tonight. Circumstances be damned, he wasn’t signing those damn papers. He’d let this go on too long, he was going to romance you and show you just how good things could be, if you’d found someone else well that poor sap would have to go because the two of you were endgame and he knew it. Now he just had to convince you. Easier said than done.

🏷️ Tagging- @attapullman @bobgasm @roosterforme @mynameismckenziemae @seitmai @jessicab1991 @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @dontletthemtakeyoualive @crazy-ravioli @dizzybee03 @sarahsmi13s @sunsetsimpsblog @auroralightsthesky @bradshawssugarbaby

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: none | masterlist

The crisp night air brushes Azriel’s wings and cools his burning hot skin. A welcome feeling due to the heat blossoming in his chest, and simmering within his veins.

Flying with a male of Eris’ size is not easy, but with the Autumn Court prince fitting so perfectly against him, it actually isn’t too difficult.

It almost feels like their bodies were made for each other and so Azriel manages to gracefully descend and land atop one of the balconies of the Moonstone Palace. He had shadow-winnowed them most of the way, but the last part they had to fly. 

He helps Eris climb back to his feet, neither of them saying a word while doing so. They also didn’t talk while flying. Azriel only asked if he was too fast and teased Eris that if he felt sick he should tell him; Eris had only shown him a vulgar gesture and told him he liked it fast. 

That alone was enough to heat Azriel’s blood and in combination with Eris’ scent and the close proximity and warmth of the heir’s body, it nearly made Azriel navigate them into one of the towering buildings of Velaris. 

But Eris didn’t even notice the reaction he caused in Azriel, being too occupied with admiring and gaping at the brightly lit city below them.

Before this moment, the spymaster has never seen the Autumn Court prince like this — his lips parted, eyes aglow, and silent admiration etched upon his features. Eris always looks beautiful, but Azriel has to admit that in that moment, he looked absolutely breathtaking. 

Silently, Eris follows Azriel through the corridors of the Moonstone Palace until they reach a door at the very back of the second floor, the walls made of white marble here, reflecting the moonlight. Some sconces grave the walls here and there.

“Your room,” Azriel’s voice is a little hoarse from not talking for a while. He extends his hand, and shows Eris into his room who follows without a word. His stroll his no longer so proud, but rather casual, long steps carrying him over the polished floor. 

“Thank you,” Eris says once he is inside and after has taken a good look around the room. Rhysand is rich and so is the Night Court and they show it. In every little detail of the room it becomes visible how fortunate this court is. 

Eris wants the same for the Autumn Court. He wants his court to thrive under his rule, for the money to be equally distributed amongst his people, no one having to suffer anymore or fear for their existence or their life. 

Azriel rips him out of his thoughts about the future, the shadowsinger’s deep voice hollowing through the room and sending a chill down Eris’ arms. 

“I want to apologise for what I said concerning Beron.” Azriel leans against the doorframe, his demeanour rather casual, but there is a whirlwind of emotions brewing within the hazel of his eyes. “It was wrong to push you, I know this and I’m sorry for it.”

Azriel hates nothing more than to admit that he has made a mistake, he is too proud to do so most times, but this time he can’t avoid it. He has to tell Eris that he is sorry and that what he said was wrong. It was a grand mistake and now he has to stand in for it. 

“You weren’t wrong though,” Eris answers with a hint of gloom in his voice. He shrugs and then opens the cuffs on his cobalt jacket and places them on the dresser, then turns back to Azriel. 

“I need to do something soon. Beron is going insane. I will tell you and the High Lord and Lady more about that tomorrow. I’m tired tonight, but what I can already share is that he is scared Summer will siege us. And he is–”

Eris cuts himself off and shakes his head. 

“And he what?” Azriel takes a step into the room, the door falling close behind him with a soft thud. His shadows swirl around him, restless, as if they are in a hurry. 

“I think he is after Lucien.”

“Because he’s Helion’s son?”

So, the Night Court already knows this. Eris doesn’t let his surprise show, veils his face in cool nonchalance and dips his chin. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”

The shadowsinger bows his head. His hand moves to the door handle and he opens the door, and starts to move. But Eris stops him when he says, “Good night, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel halts on the threshold, broad, scarred hand braced on the doorframe. His shoulders rise with a deep inhale.

Deafening silence falls over them, until—

“Dance with me.”

Azriel looks over his shoulder into Eris’ baffled face. Eris’ doesn’t move, nor answer. His feet are rooted to the ground, and for a moment Azriel thinks that the prince has stopped breathing. 

“Dance with me,” the shadowsinger repeats and turns around completely. He lets the door fall shut behind him, leaning against it. 

Eris still says nothing. Waits for Azriel to continue, caught in a stupor about this odd request. Azriel can’t possibly mean that.  

"Dance with me like you danced with Elain." A small, almost sheepish smile blooms on Azriel‘s face. Eris is mesmerised by it, has never seen such beauty before. And there is also hope within the endless hazle, a little flicker of anticipation, glowing in Azriel’s eyes. 

Questions burn on his tongue, accusations that go into the direction of Azriel being insane and completely round the bend, but none of them leave Eris’ mouth. His throat works on a swallow and eventually, and instead of any rude remark, he says, his voice low and a hint unsure, "I’ve never danced with a male before."

"There‘s always a first for everything." Azriel takes a tentative step forward. "Dance with me."

But Eris remains where he is, flexing his fingers at his side. "Why would I want to dance with you?" He swallows thickly. "Why would you want to dance with me?"

The smile on Azriel’s face does not fade. But it changes – turns from shy to bemused. "Because–”

Azriel‘s throat bobs and he gives his head a little shake. “I don’t know. I just want to dance with you – I want you to show me how to dance.”

Eris moves in closer, so close the tips of their shoes are touching. “You know how to dance. I saw you dance with Lady Nesta last year. So…” He pauses, waits for Azriel to lift his gaze to meet his own. “Why do you want to dance with me?”

“I have no reason for it, other than that I want to try it. That I want to dance with you.” Azriel’s eyes lock with Eris’. The usual void is gone, replaced by a flame that also ignites a spark in Eris’ empty chest. 

The Autumn Court reaches out and takes Azriel’s hand into his.

It feels like lightning zips between their bodies, the little spark between their hands making them both pull back. Or wanting to. Eris holds onto Azriel’s hand, the heat against his palm an oddly welcome feeling. He had expected Azriel’s hands to be cold, ice cold, but they are warm. Callused, marred with many scars, but warm. And big. 

“What happened to your hands?”  Eris asks, knowing he shouldn't be asking questions like this and getting involved in things that aren't his business.

"Nothing important," Azriel whispers, slowly lifting his other hand and placing it carefully on Eris' broad shoulder.

But it does, the Autumn Court heir thinks, it does matter to him. Nevertheless, he won’t push Azriel to tell him. Obviously not. If Azriel is not ready to share, he has no right to force him to do so. 

A little awkwardly, Eris’ hand moves to Azriel’s waist, resting atop the leathers, the Illyrian’s hard muscles still noticeable through the fabric. 

Eris moves Azriel a little closer to him, positioning in the way he wants him. A sigh slips through the spymaster’s lips, his body rigid, tense. 

Eris lets his eyes run over Azriel’s face. “We have no music.”

“Fuck,” Azriel curses below his breath. “I haven’t thought of that.” 

Eris chuckles amusedly, the sound like a soft caress of Azriel’s skin. “They call you shadowsinger, I suppose you know how to sing,” the prince muses, the corner of his mouth moving up. 

“I am a shadowsinger,” Azriel corrects him.

Eris smirks. “Well, since you are a shadowsinger, I’m sure you can sing.” 

“You want me to sing for you?” Azriel’s chest feels a little tight, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He has never sung for anyone, except for Gwyn. Once after training, they sang together. But for someone else – for Eris – never. He is unsure and all of a sudden so incredibly nervous.  

“For us,” Eris corrects him. “We need some music to dance to.”

Azriel decides to hum, because he also needs to focus on dancing and doing both singing and dancing at the same time with Eris being so close and his heart already nearly bursting through his ribcage due to being so nervous it would be too much. 

Colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks, the closeness to Eris so strangely comfortable he never wants to step away again. But it also makes him feel a little tense.

Never has he been so close to a male. Never has he been so close to Eris and not been entangled in a fight before. This is a strange and new position they find themselves in, but to his own astonishment, nothing about it feels strange. It feels oddly familiar and good. 

And Eris must think the same. Otherwise he would move away, or would have said no to begin with. But Eris keeps close, his hands on Azriel’s body, warming his skin even through his Illyrian leathers. Azriel’s thoughts stray, imagining Eris’ hot hand against his bare skin. Wrapped around his–

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asks, the sound of his voice almost guttural. He scents Azriel’s arousal and it drives him insane. 

Azriel’s blush intensifies, his breath catches and calling upon every small part of his rationality, he says, his voice way too breathy, “Dancing with you.”

A fire, one that Azriel has never seen before, flashes in Eris’ auburn eyes and with one strong pull, Eris moves Azriel’s body so close their chests are touching, their lips mere inches from the other, breathing the same air. 

The air is charged with an unspoken tension, a mix of shyness, curiosity and nervousness. Neither of them has ever danced with another male before, and the fact that no one out of Azriel’s or Eris’ family knows about the moment they now share, or the ones they shared in past, hangs in the air like a delicate secret.

Eris leads them. Azriel allows him to do so, revelling in the moment of handing over the control to Eris.

At the beginning their movements are hesitant, first having to find a rhythm. Each step is careful, Eris’ thigh sliding between Azriel’s legs. Subtle yearning simmers beneath their skin that feels almost electrical, the pull within their chests drawing them closer and closer.

A contented chuckle parts Eris lips, and Azriel smiles. A secret, hidden smile, that Eris can’t see because he isn’t looking at Azriel’s face. 

As the dance continues, their bodies start to move in harmony, creating a secret, intimate space where the outside world and all the people within it fade into insignificance. Azriel allows himself to enjoy this moment to the fullest, pushing away the feeling of betrayal and regret. This dance is yet another thing he can’t tell his best friends —his brothers— about.

In the quiet room, a few fae lights cast shadows upon the walls that resemble the ones swirling around Azriel, and now also around the Autumn Court prince. 

“They like me?” Eris asks in a hushed voice, eyes following one of the shadows gliding up his arm. 

“I guess they do,” Azriel answers him honestly, warmth once again seeping into his cheeks. He is surprised himself how they react to Eris; he wouldn’t have expected that. 

Azriel continues to hum, creating a lovely symphony that accompanies their waltz. The occasional shy smiles exchanged between the two males speak volumes, creating an erratic feeling within their souls and making their hearts beat faster.

Their movements become more languid, the dance at some point slowing, coming to end too quickly. 

However neither of them is yet ready to step away. It is almost like a veil lies upon them, keeping them safe within, shielding them from the uncertainty and the threats from the outside world. 

Azriel moves in closer again, his hand slipping out of Eris’, but instead of pulling it back he slides it up Eris' chest and places it on his hard pectoral. Their fronts touch and he leans in, once again drawing in the prince’s scent.

Fucking perfect, Azriel thinks. So perfect, he wants to drag his nose and tongue across Eris’ skin, and lick and taste every part of his body. 

His mind is going insane, he knows this. This sheer need and desire are fucking strong and render him mindless. Dumb. Delirious. 

Eris’ skin grows taut beneath his finery, Azriel’s touch doing things to him he has not experienced before.

Their breaths mingle in front of their faces and as much as he wants to move away, he can’t. Something hinders him from doing so. 

He wants Azriel, so much his cock almost painfully strains within his breeches. If he could, he would push Azriel back toward the bed, strip him bare and–

And nothing. He hates him. He should hate Azriel so much. He can’t allow himself to think about fucking him until he forgets his own name. Until they both forget who they are and what kind of responsibilities they have. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Eris asks once again, and his whole body stiffens when he feels Azriel’s lips brush against his neck. They are slightly damp, warm and extremely soft and feel exactly the same way as when they touched his own lips.

Eris fights the urge to groan but also doesn’t shove the shadowsinger away. He allows him the closeness. He allows him to touch his body.

“Because I wanted to,” Azriel breathes and knows how silly that answer has been. But he has no better answer for Eris. Especially not right now. Not with Eris being so close, not with his scent being the only thing Azriel can focus on.

Azriel steps away, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. He has never taken in Eris‘ appearance as he does now. 

The Autumn Court male is tall, incredibly tall, as tall as he himself. Eris is wearing finely tailored clothes, the cobalt fabric of his jacket straining slightly over his broad and sculpted shoulders. It hints at the impressive muscles beneath, particularly in his upper arms.

Azriel allows himself to drink in the sight of Eris, half his face once again bathed in the muted glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtain-framed window.

A smug look spreads over Eris face and he closes the distance between them, faces almost touching.

“Why did you kiss me, Azriel?” Eris' breath tingles Azriel’s face, his mouth parting slightly, tongue poking out to bring some wetness to his dry lips.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answers, the eye-contact he tries to maintain threatening to waver. 

He can’t tell him about the pull on his chest, that everything in his body screams at him to kiss Eris, to taste him, to feel him, to just be near him. He can’t tell him how much he wants him. How much he desires him. 

Eris' head drops, falling into the crook of Azriel’s neck. The shadowsinger allows it.

Slowly, tauntingly Eris‘ lips drag across Azriel’s in gooseflesh covered skin, fangs adding the necessary bite. Eris' hand slides around Azriel’s waist to the small of his back, resting there.

His palm radiates nothing but heat and fire, but not the kind of fire the shadowsinger fears. No, this one is full of passion. Azriel’s breaths become ragged, his back bowing slightly, bending to Eris’ will. His lids close and before he can stop himself he moans. 

The noise elicits a delighted, arrogant growl for the Autumn Court heir. “I want to hear more of that. All the sensual noises you can give me.” Eris lets his tongue glide over Azriel’s salty skin. “But only when you have a real answer to my question. Only when you know what you really want.”

A cold falls over Azriel, bitter and harsh. He shudders when Eris steps, moving behind the stray of moonlight into the shadows amd out if his reach.

“Good night, shadowsinger.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

[strscrossed]

kiss of death — part i

and here i present the ballerina/mafioso au. it's a slow start but i always like having a setup. anyway, eren's a mafia underboss along with his brother zeke. grisha is the boss and women are kept out of the family business. thanks @likesunsetorange for reading this over and also enabling me! 💕

eremika. 2.5k. explicit.

~

“And what do you mean you won’t be joining us for dinner?”

Eren glances at his father for a little assistance. His mother’s voice is low, something dangerous stirring behind the calm. At this point, Eren would rather be in enemy territory, without a gun, than deal with Carla Jaeger. 

“It’s last minute but a business associate's daughter has a ballet recital and he’s treating us to dinner after. Sorry, mom. Can I take a raincheck? 

The key to a good lie is a half-truth. He does, in fact, have to attend a ballet tonight. Not with a business associate but his mother isn’t to know that under any circumstances. He worries for a moment because his mother is quiet. Too quiet, in fact. 

“Always with the rainchecks,” she mumbles, shaking her head. She glares at him for two seconds, narrowing her eyes before sighing, conceding defeat. 

When he was younger, he had a tell. His ears would turn red and his mother had a habit of pinching them whenever she would catch him in one. But adulthood has turned him into a seasoned liar. 

“And you couldn’t handle this because…?” Carla glares at her husband, who sits on the sofa cross-legged, reading a newspaper. Grisha Jaeger is afraid of no one. Except, maybe, his wife. 

“I’m close to retirement, dear. The boys are grown now, it’s time they got involved in matters of the family business. If I keep doing it, they’ll never learn anything. And I’m not getting any younger. 

Zeke, who stands a few feet away, snorts quietly. Grisha’s “fragile old man” shtick would be laughable to anyone but his wife. Carla shakes her head. Again, a sigh of defeat as her husband gives her those weary eyes. Eren has to bite his tongue to keep the laugh from escaping. 

“Eren’s hardly around anymore,” she says, shaking her head. “Can I at least have a meal with my boy once a week?” 

He can’t say no to her. 

“Of course, mom.” 

She sits back in her chair, teacup in hand. She mourns time lost with her son but unbeknownst to her, she is living comfortably because of all this. And to keep all this, he has to break yet another promise to his mother. 

“I need to head out now,” he tells everyone, with Grisha and Zeke nodding and Carla sighing. 

“Who is going with you?” 

“Armin and Floch,” he answers. At the mention of Floch’s name, he sees her face pinch a little. No, he’s not having this conversation again. She’s made her distaste for that young man abundantly clear. He doesn’t want to stick around to hear her ask his father, yet again, why he keeps him around. 

“Bye,” he says and he’s out the door before his mother can get another word in. 

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

The fresh air fills his lungs as he closes the door behind him. His mother still doesn’t suspect a thing and that’s how he wants to keep it. It’s a dirty, grimy world that only the men of the family are privy to. If she really knew what the real family business was… 

He doesn’t want to even entertain that idea. These are the rules. They exist for a reason. And he stopped feeling bad about lying to her years ago. It’s a lesson that’s been beaten into him since he was sixteen years old. 

Eren slides into the front seat of the car. Floch is driving and Armin takes his place in the backseat. Neither man makes an effort to converse with each other and that’s fine. Their bickering is a source of Eren’s frayed nerves too often. 

“Ackerman soldiers were spotted frequenting the ballet, huh?” Eren asks. It’s a rhetorical question. 

“Quite a few of them actually,” Floch responds, his eyes glued to the road. 

“It’s because one of their own is this year’s prima ballerina,” Armin adds. “A large number of them are said to be in attendance this evening.” 

“Frequent the ballet, Arlert? How do you even know that?” Floch asks. 

Eren stays quiet as he glances at Armin’s unamused expression in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he’s not the explosive type. 

“Well, if you must know, knowing about different things helps me navigate and infiltrate a number of different circles. You might want to culture yourself a little more, Floch.” 

Oh, here they go. 

“So, one of their own, huh? Old Kenny’s extorting ballet companies now?” Eren snorts. “His niece wanted to become a ballerina so good ole Uncle Kenny made it happen? Never took him to be such a fucking softie.” 

No, actually, if that is the case, it’ll be easier to get under the old fucker’s skin. 

“Actually, I hear Mikasa Ackerman is a once in a generation talent. And just in case, tonight’s performance is a ballet called Giselle. It’s about a young woman who falls in love with a nobleman and when they can’t be together she dies of heartbreak but that’s not where it ends—” 

“I don’t care, Armin,” Eren cuts him off. “I don’t care about ballet or the girl. We’re going there for one reason and one reason only — to watch the Ackerman’s every move. Everything else is worthless and irrelevant.” 

He hears Armin sink back into his seat, sighing. 

Eren does his best not to twist his face in annoyance. A ballet of all places. He never thought he’d be caught dead at one of those… 

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

Kenny Ackerman is nowhere to be seen. Naturally, his old ass couldn’t be bothered to show up anywhere someone could see him. Levi Ackerman, however, is seated in the very front row. Armin manages to get them balcony seats so they can see everything. 

It’s the most boring observation ever because the Ackerman associates and soldiers are just seated there. 

This is why soldiers and lower level soldiers are sent to do this crap. Now he has to sit through a two hour long ballet and pretend to know what’s going on. 

Occasionally, the man to Levi’s right will lean over and whisper something to his ear. He simply nods, giving nothing away. 

“What are they saying?” Floch mutters to himself, squinting as if to read the lips. 

Armin, meanwhile, is observing their surroundings. It’s entirely possible that they’ve been spotted. 

“None here,” he assures Eren after a while. 

Before he can say anything, the theater lights dim. 

Eren knows jackshit about ballet. He doesn’t care to know what’s going on. The arts, the gentler things in life, were things he never cared to become acquainted with. So when the lights dim and the sound of violins fill the theater, he groans. He hears a lady gasp and jump behind him and he can’t help but scoff. It’s nothing compared to the sound of gunfire, bones breaking, or knives cutting through skin. 

The Ackerman party, however, stops talking. Their eyes are glued to the stage and, unwillingly, Eren turns his attention to the stage. The whole production is colorful. Too colorful. It’s an eyesore.

He has no idea what’s going on. There are several dancers on stage at the beginning and then it’s just two guys. No one’s talking, obviously, it’s a ballet not a play. Armin’s probably watching completely enthralled, but he’s not impressed. He leans back in his chair, bored out of his mind as he watches them prance around the stage. 

He’d never willingly show up to these things. But, when his father received word of a large gathering of Ackerman, of course he had to show up for it. 

If the Ackerman are here, he needs to keep an eye on all of their activities. They might be here for the girl, but that’s immaterial for Eren. 

He doesn’t care about ballet. 

He doesn’t care for the girl—

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when a young woman appears on the stage. She looks around, and prances around the stage. And just like that, Eren is drawn right into the performance. 

She’s graceful, her movements are so natural, so effortless. It’s like she belongs up there. Whatever she’s doing — whoever she’s playing — she embodies the role perfectly. 

If he knows nothing else about ballet, he knows this much. 

“That’s Mikasa Ackerman,” Armin leans in to whisper in his ear. “This year’s prima ballerina.” 

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on but it gets sad pretty quickly, he assumes. He hears sniffling behind and near him. Floch looks endlessly bored and Armin, as predicted, is really into the performance. 

Eren is focused on his dancer. 

If he could compare her face to anything, it would be the moon. It is the illuminated beauty in the dark of the night and even from here, her eyes light up like the millions of stars. Only hers are brighter. 

It goes on for two hours, which Eren decides is not long enough. He’ll watch her perform all day and night if that’s what it takes. 

When the curtains close and everyone stands up to clap, he cannot bring himself to do so. His beautiful dancer is no longer in front of him and he finds no reason to celebrate that. 

“Well, that was uneventful,” Floch mutters disappointingly. “I thought they might actually try something. I thought we might actually gain an advantage over them.” 

Oh, right, they had a job to do. 

“Floch, if you thought they were coming to a ballet, which by the way one of their own is performing at, to try and pull something you’ve set your expectations way too high.” 

“Yeah, well if you haven’t noticed, this is our territory—”

“—technically, no it’s not.” 

“What? Are you secretly on their side, Arlert? Because it sounds to me like you are.” 

“Would you two shut up?” Eren growls, prompting the two of them to shut their mouths. “Armin, is she set to be in any more shows?” 

“I can check but if she’s the prima ballerina, you can bet on it.” 

Well, he is a betting man. And he always wins. 

“Then we’ll keep coming back. Sooner or later, they’ll start conducting business around here. We should watch for that.” 

He receives no protest. He does his best to keep a poker face but as he exits the theater, the corners of his turn up slightly… 

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

“So?” Grisha asks, closing the door behind him. Eren and Zeke stand side by side as Grisha walks back to his desk, settling down and making himself comfortable before Eren allows himself to answer. 

“Nothing special. The Ackerman girl is part of the ballet, so they were serving as glorified bodyguards. The three of us watched them the whole time and nothing happened.” 

Disappointing news to say the least. So much for this being a golden opportunity to strike against the Ackerman. As always, they manage to elude them by doing absolutely nothing. 

“Even so, continue to watch the ballet,” Grisha instructs. “One evening will tell us nothing. And if the girl is part of the ballet, well they’ll frequent that theater. Perhaps, old Kenny Ackerman might show up.” 

Fat chance. 

“And Zeke,” he turns to his eldest son. “Are the girls of any use?” 

“Nope,” his brother answers. “The men don’t frequent brothels. In fact, the girls haven’t heard of either of them.” 

“Damn it!” his father curses, pounding the table with his fists. The whole thing is a little over dramatic in Eren’s opinion. 

Weaker men cower before Grisha Jaeger. He is someone that you don’t want to piss off. In all fairness, the Jaegers in general are people you don’t want to piss off. The two brothers are the only ones immune to their father’s fear tactics. Though, he is certainly not just talk. He wouldn’t be in this position otherwise. 

“It is decided then,” Grisha mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Reiss and the Tyburs agree that this cannot continue.” 

There is a tenuous peace between the families. Initially, each family controlled a third of the island and conflicts broke out through the generations. Eren’s grandfather realized there were more benefits to keeping these families as allies than enemies. Though tenuous is the best way to describe whatever alliance they had going. 

“And what does that mean?” Zeke questions. 

Grisha responds with a small smile. 

“I won’t keep you as you two have more work to do. I have arranged it. Zeke, you are to marry Rod Reiss’ eldest daughter, Frieda. And Eren, you are to marry Willy Tybur’s younger sister, Lara. You are to meet with them, court them, and the official engagement will be two months from today. It is done. You two will honor it.” 

What century was this? 

“What the fuck, old man?” Eren growls and two pairs of eyes are on him.

“What was that?” his father asks, daring him to repeat it. 

“You just sold us to the Reiss and Tyburs? You just want us to go along with it? What the fuck?” 

Grisha’s not used to having his authority questioned. Sometimes Eren is going to whine but usually he doesn’t have an issue doing his father’s bidding. Extort the local jeweler? No problem. Take care of a guy and dispose of his corpse? Done. Spy on a couple of low level Ackerman associates? He can do that in his sleep. 

Marriage though? Fuck no. That was different. That is something sacred and just for him. 

“You don’t have a choice. You’re going to go through with this, Eren. I’ve given you way too much freedom. You’re marrying Lara Tybur. End of discussion. You have dinner reservations tomorrow night at 8 pm. Make sure you’re not late and I’ll know if you two fuck this up. Now get the hell out of my office.” 

As the door closes behind the two of them, Eren is prepared to stomp down the hall but Zeke’s hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Careful, Eren,” he warns. “Step out of line and the old man isn’t going to hesitate to give you the kiss of death.” 

Eren scowls, “And when did you become the obedient son? ” 

“You didn’t seem to have an issue when he decided that you’d join the family business. You don’t have an issue doing his dirty work. But you draw the line at marriage. Interesting. Is there someone?” 

“Fuck off, Zeke! It’s entirely fucking different and you know it! Does there have to be someone? And you’re one to talk! Pieck Finger is it?” 

“Watch it, Eren,” Zeke warns him, all amusement vanishing from his face. 

“Hit a nerve? Does the old man already know? Is that why you’re so okay with going along with it?” 

Zeke narrows his eyes, “I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.” 

“Whatever. I’m tired.” 

He stomps off. Zeke might be okay with this, but he definitely isn’t. He’ll do anything for this family but this was too much! And without even consulting the two of them. Shouldn’t he have a say in who he marries? 

As he silently rages, images of Mikasa Ackerman moving gracefully around the stage flood his mind. And all the rage dissipates into thin air…

[lavender-romancer]

Blurry Eyes

Part Two Sebastian Sallow x Reader

You never thought you would see your old love, Sebastian, again. Now that he had returned to your life, you knew the hole in your heart had always been shaped like him.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

previous part-burden

When you met Sebastian and Ominis you had immediately been intrigued by them. Having no real family of your own you had to attach yourself to someone and couldn't see anyone better than the two Slytherin boys. Whether it was saving beasts or fighting Ashwinders together, you and Sebastian were inseparable. Ominis usually let the two of you go off and do “something stupid” as he always said- content to complete all of his work in the peace and quiet of your absence.

Everyone thought the two of you were some kind of item in whatever capacity that was. But neither of you really considered it at the time, at least in fifth year. You were best friends, going to classes together, studying together and sometimes sneaking out together in search of ancient magic. Even after everything that happened with his Uncle, you stood by him. Sebastian deserved another chance, all of the effort the two of you had put into saving Anne was taken away. It was understandable that he was inconsolable and acted out.

Ominis didn't understand, not in the same way you did. There was always a darkness within Sebastian you didn't shy away from. If anything it made you more drawn to him than Ominis, Ominis was safe and secure. Sebastian… he was chaos, a chaos that you craved the more you got of it, your life became remarkable when you were with him. Your magic may have been more advanced than his, but every time you went somewhere with Sebastian it felt like you might never come back. That you'd go on some kind of adventure, run away and go exploring. It felt like you had nothing to lose when you were together.

Sixth year hit the both of you like a brick wall. As soon as you saw one another after the summer holidays, your eyes seemed to go wide. He was so… different to look at. Not really an immature boy anymore, closer to a man. The whole school year you were just as close, the gossip about the two of you ran around the school as fast as it got back to you. But nothing happened, you were just friends who flirted with each other and spent every day with one another.

Final year was when it all changed, when the two of you kissed after sneaking into the restricted section once again. You were inexplicably happy when you got back to your dormitory, smiling yourself to sleep. But nothing changed, he didn't say anything. Didn't court you or even try to broach the subject. He pulled away, spent more time with his books than you or Ominis. That was how it all ended, a kiss of unrequited love that led you to where you were today.

You had friends, you had a best friend, Ominis, you had potential suitors that you turned down. You had no blood relatives but had a sort of work family that existed without Sebastian Sallow- much to your chagrin. Ominis had kept you relentlessly updated with news of Sebastian as you all grew, for some reason the Gaunt boy knew much too much about everything. He was a bloody oracle at this point, gossiping to his best friend about all the happenings in the Ministry you were too busy to focus on.

Everytime be spoke of Sebastian your heart felt like it might give out, the childless hope your held in your heart was still so strong. What did you want from him? You didn't know who he was now. All you dreamed of was what that look in his would be like, when he finally realised that you could make one another so happy. You could give him everything, the sun and the moon if you had too. But you weren't his, and he wasn't yours. This teenage pipedream born from a crush has controlled too much of your adult life already and you decided enough was enough.

Did you want to be his? Yes. No matter who he was. It was a dumb love, you would do anything to be close to him again but it was destined to fail. You had good days, so many good days that you couldn't be angry. All you could do was pack up the memories you had of him into a box and put it under your bed for safe keeping. You would never see the future of his life except for maybe in a newspaper or through Ominis. But you could exist like that, keep him in a state of sentimentality rather than wishing on him like a shooting star.

From there you moved on, focussed on your work and building your friendships back into being strong. You asked Ominis to talk to someone else about Sebastian and instead normally socialised with him. There was no mention of Sallow in any of your following conversations. It was refreshing, you didn't worry that you'd walk past him at the ministry or somewhere in London because that was alright. He was a man, just a man and you didn't have to sensationalise him like you had been doing for so long. Sebastian couldn't fix everything just like you couldn't for him. You were okay with this.

Every now and then you had nightmares about him dying on the job or had a straying thought about whether he missed you. But mostly you kept Sebastian out of your mind. If you were to move on and allow someone else to be this impactful on your life, perhaps it could truly start without looking backwards at what could have been.

Five years after you had left Hogwarts you were working in the legal department of the Ministry, had your own flat and didn't have to worry about your old best friend.

Everything changed that night when he turned up on your doorstep, you could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the far away look in his eyes. You spoke for barely ten minutes but, after he left everything came back. How you wanted to pull him close to you and protect him from his own demons. Everytime as a teenager you wished he would kiss you and court you like other girls. That he would see you as more than an option. You tried to move on, tried to be with other people but it wasn't right. It had never been right because no matter whose bed you shared you wished it was his.

You ran to your front door, almost pulling the door off it's hinges as you threw it open. Running into the dusk of night you stood in the road and looked around everywhere for him. After a glimpse of him you couldn't believe was real, you needed to touch him-make sure he was real and not another dream.

“Sebastian!” You called out.

The world was spinning, you started running through the mist even though you had no idea what direction he went. You longed to hear his voice, see how his face had changed and how he had grown into his deeper voice. He couldn't look you in the eye before, they were so full of sorrow and all you wanted to do was take all the pain away.

It had been a while. You weren't sure how long but you were cold, your feet bare and cold. It was time to go home and begin the process of forgetting again. Talking to him again brought back every conversation, every quiet moment of teenage awkwardness that you smiled about later. The time that you kissed and how that feeling had never been recreated with anyone since. This feeling of loss that had been eating away at you was only getting worse. Your soul was missing something. He had walked back into your life and through your heart so carelessly. Gave you hope for a life that wasn't real. His eyes, there was so much sadness but also the feeling of comfort and longing. You knew he came to you for a reason and you only wished he had stayed.

You reached your old Victorian style flat and could only think of how Sebastian's influence was all over this house. His favorite colours, things that reminded you of Feldcroft. When you walked back into the drawing room you saw his old school scarf and let out a choked noise. No crying. It was like you had finally been given air and it was slowly being taken away from you again. You rummaged around in a rattan basket on the side table and found some cigarettes and a lighter. It was a habit you were trying to get rid of but you didn't care. At least it might distract you.

Sitting down on your steps outside you leant on the bannister fencing that led to your front door. Only now realising your feet were bleeding. You sighed and lit your cigarette watching how the blood slowly dropped onto the concrete slabs as you held one of your legs over your knee. The burn of the lighter on your finger woke you up from your trance and you swore to yourself before taking a drag. All you wanted, regardless of your success and your freedom, was him. It was pathetic, truly. Completely pathetic. You had your independence, your complete unwavering independence. Not having to worry about being a woman the same way muggles did, you were powerful and good at your job but… it wasn't enough.

When you thought about it, you had spent more days of your life thinking about Sebastian than physically being with him. Your eyes began to well up, why did he come here? Was it just to taunt you or upset you? Had you made the whole thing up to try and construe that he really did love you and wanted to see you? Why were you so obsessed with this man that in reality you no longer knew anything about? It was fucking ridiculous of you to expect some kind of happy ending when most of your feelings about Sebastian were fantasies.

But it didn't matter. No matter how ridiculous it was you felt like you were falling apart from the inside out. Like this had always been here in your mind and all you had been doing was blocking out your feelings rather than dealing with them. He didn't want you, it was clearly some sort of joke. Sebastian always did like a little prank or something, and what better than fucking with you. You hoped he had found what he needed here, that he was happy. But Sebastian wanting you had never been real, not when you were younger and not now. You needed to just forget.

Sebastian was standing in an alley when he heard you scream his name. Lights started turning on in all the buildings surrounding you, people looking out of their windows at the mad woman. He couldn't believe his eyes, you were barefoot and running around trying to find him. As his eyes welled up he rubbed away tears but his eyes were so blurry he couldn't decide if it was a drunken delusion or reality. Sebastian sunk to the floor, it was still quite chilly but he didn't feel it. So numb to everything. As he waited for dawn to approach, he hoped his life would lead to something, that one day he would be a man you deserved.

Perhaps one day colours wouldn't fade out of the world, one day Sebastian would be truly happy. But today was not that day. He sat on the cold ground against a wall and bowed his head, his existence was a joke. When Anne was cursed he often felt like his days of any happiness had ended, like everything in the world was pointless without her being there to experience it. But he met you, he adored you and laughed with you. Life wasn't an endless void, there was hope. But he wasted it. He wasted all of it with his childish ways and pathetic inability to realise where his happiness was coming from.

The sky was slowly turning from gray to a sort of burnt yellow. You were nowhere to be seen and in some ways Sebastian thought that was for the best. The alcohol was really wearing off now and after taking one last deep breath he clumsily apparated back to his house which felt as cold as outside. He had forgotten to lock his door and the gusts of wind sent the door back and forth into the wall. Sebastian groaned, apparation when you weren't fully focussed hurt a ridiculous amount.

He looked up at the state of his ceiling, it was cracked and looked as if it would collapse in the coming months if he didn't fix it. Maybe he would stay here in this spot until it buried him, he couldn't plague your life if he was gone. Or maybe it would make it all the worse for you, a horrific memory of Sebastian drunk on your doorstep being the last. Why couldn't he just stop? Why the fuck did he go and see you so out of his mind?

“Enjoying your floor?” A voice suddenly asked and Sebastian made and terrified sort of scream noise looking over to the armchair where Ominis sat.

“Jesus Christ, Ominis.” Sebastian ran his hands down his face.

“Someone had quite the night, didn't they?” Ominis smirked and Sebastian felt like throwing a book at him.

“She told you then?” Sebastian asked.

“With a ridiculous amount of urgency, she contacted me. Told me a story I was convinced she dreamt about showing up at her doorstep drunk and wide eyed. But apparently it's true.” Ominis held his wand in front of him and stood up.

“Bet you enjoyed that. Me turning into even more of a disaster whilst the two of you are prospering.” Sebastian had some malice in his voice and Ominis shook his head, disappointed.

“You have no idea what she went through the last few years. Not that you cared you see how she was or even-”

“It was better she forgot about me. Last night was… it was a mistake. I shouldn't have done that to her.” He stood up and took a step closer to Ominis but he but his hand up.

“That's close enough, I don't know what you're doing, Sebastian. But you've opened a box you can't simply close. Y/n deserves an end to this chapter of her life at the very least. Stop this pathetic drunkenness with some sort of drug usage. Pull yourself together and end things properly. You were a terrible friend to me but even worse to her.” Ominis scowled at him before turning and leaving, he slammed the door as he left, leaving an audible imprint on Sebastian's mind. He was right, you did deserve more than what he did. But Sebastian had no fucking idea how to display that.

[rubyreduji]

balancing life — lsm

summary: surprisingly, life and death go together hand in hand

tags: fluff, angst, life!seokmin, death!reader, gn!reader warnings: discussions of deities, lots of death wc: 2.1k an: i couldn’t find a place to put it in, but the previous life and death were soonyoung and jihoon

You’ve known Seokmin since you were young. Back when you used to follow your mentor around, learning the ropes so one day you could succeed them. Seokmin was doing the same at the time with his own mentor.

Back then, he was just a wide eyed, long nosed boy. He’s still basically the same, even hundreds of years later.

You see him often, but that’s common with your roles. Life and Death.

Well, technically your titles are “The Deity of Creation” and “The Deity of Destruction”, but most people saw you as life and death, which are more or less the same things. 

One day, long ago, you materialized. You weren’t really born, more like you just appeared. The whole purpose of your existence was to become Death, and so the previous Death “raised” you and trained you to take over their role before they retired. Deities don’t die, but after a long time of doing the job there comes a time when they don’t want to do it anymore so they’ll get an apprentice to pass the title down to before going off to live peacefully without the burden of responsibility.

During your apprenticeship, you met Seokmin. When you first met, neither of you really got along, not fully comprehending how two powers so opposite of each other could get along, let alone go hand in hand. Both of your mentors just laughed at you two, explaining how one day you’ll understand.

You remember the day that you truly did understand. Your mentor had passed the title down to you already, and though you had gone through years of mentorship you were still a bit nervous to be truly on your own. 

The job of Deity of Destruction meant you saw a lot of death. Other depression things too, like decay and sickness and demolition. It was your job though, so when you came across a bad car crash, you knew what you had to do.

The only problem was, Seokmin was already at the scene of the crash. It seemed to be a drunk college student who had driven their car off the road and into a ditch. The car was completely totaled and the person wasn’t looking too far behind either.

“Y/N!” Seokmin looked surprised to see you. Maybe he was hoping he could get to them before you could. “Please wait. Please no.”

“Move aside Seokmin,” you told him in a stern voice. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I-I can save them. Please. Please Y/N. Let me have this one.”

“I can’t, Seokmin-ah,” you said, your voice softening this time. “They’re suffering, and it’s my job to end that suffering.”

Seokmin then started to blubber, tears streaming down his pale face. “They won’t suffer anymore if I just save them. They’re so young. They deserve to live.”

“I know,” you said, your expression still not changing. “But young people still have to die, and sometimes there’s a point where there’s no return. Even if they did survive, the damage to them would be irrevocable.”

You drifted down to the car, your fingers just barely ghosting over the driver’s forehead. Their gasping breaths went silent as their pulse stopped. Behind you, Seokmin was still crying. As you passed him, you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t save them all, Seokmin.” With that, you disappeared, but not before you caught sight of Seokmin making flowers grow next to the car. It was then that you understood; there is no death without life, and there is no life without death.

That lesson was a bit harder for Seokmin to understand. He didn’t hate you, but it was clear he didn’t like what you represented. Sometimes you didn’t either. You couldn’t help it though. The life Seokmin created needed to be balanced, and only you could do that job.

It was easier for Seokmin to understand the balance during the first spring you two experienced together. After six months of watching leaves die and trees go barren, it was time for the leaves to start growing again

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked you as you two stood side by side, looking at a row of trees that were starting to become green again.

“It is,” you hummed softly.

“I-I’m sorry,” Seokmin said, nearly out of nowhere. You glanced over at him, waiting for him to continue. “I haven’t been very fair to you. All of this beautiful fresh green, is only because it had to die to let the new come in. It’s-”

“A balance,” you finished for him. “It’s okay Seokmin-ah. It’s okay.”

 

That was literal centuries ago. Over time, you two have come to a comfortable friendship. You often run into each other in hospitals and it’s become tradition that you two watch the autumn destruction and the spring creation of the plants together.

You find yourself being grateful for the boy. Your existence is surrounded with the passing of things, but Seokmin is the one thing that stays consistent in your life. You understand now why your mentors were so close to one another. It’s nice to have someone who understands.

When days get hard for you, Seokmin finds you and helps you feel better. It’s not hard for him to do though. Just the bright smile on his face can improve your mood some days. Seokmin just kind of has that effect on you.

That is, until the one (un)fateful day you run into him at a hospital. He’s standing in the corner of a hospital room, watching as a birth happens. Your stop is unfortunately at the same hospital room.

Seokmin looks stunned to see you.

“Y/N-ah, what are you-”

Sometimes you really hate your job. You don’t look Seokmin in the eyes. “I’m here for the mother.”

“No.”

“You know I don’t have a choice,” you tell him as you walk towards where the mother lays on the bed, struggling and in pain. “Trust me, I don’t like this either, but I have a duty to fulfill.”

“But her baby. There’s no family, the baby will be orphaned. That isn’t fair Y/N.”

“Nothing is fair, Seokmin-ah, you and I both know that.”

“Y/N, please! Spare her, just this once,” Seokmin begs and you can tell by the edge on his voice he’s close to tears. You haven’t seen him this emotional over a killing in a while.

“I’ve already spared too many this year,” you say softly. That’s a problem you have. A soft spot for the other deity. It’s not hard for him to convince you to spare a life for one reason or other. You still have a duty though, and you can’t stop just because of a kind boy with sweet eyes.

“No, don’t! Not this one Y/N.”

You tune Seokmin out, moving towards the hospital bed. You reach out with a shaking hand and swipe your fingers over her shoulder. She gives out one last gasp before falling limp. The doctors in the room gasp and move around the room, but it’s too late.

You close your eyes in respect for a moment before turning away. When you look up, you come face to face with Seokmin.

“You’re cruel Y/N,” Seokmin says to you. His voice is low and harsh. He’s not even crying. “So very cruel.” With that, Seokmin leaves.

You don’t see him for a long time after that. You’re surprised at how well he avoids you, considering you two saw each other nearly every day for most of your lives. The start of spring is very lonely for you, and you find yourself wondering if Seokmin is lonely as well.

You’re not sure what even really set him off. He’s seen you commit way worse acts than that. Large natural disasters and diseases and mass killings. He’s never said a word about them. Probably because he knew he was getting overzealous anyways. Overpopulation is at an all time high and no matter what you do to try and combat it, you just can’t keep up with the huge hearted boy.

So why did this one death send him over the edge? Even back when you two were just starting, he never once called you cruel. The words plague you for longer than you’d like to admit.

Time passes and life goes on though (you’re not lost on the irony of that statement). You still have a duty to do and you’ve recently gained your own mentee. You’re not completely ready to retire, but you know by the time Vernon is ready to take over you won’t be upset at the retirement. He’s just a small boy now though. It probably won’t be for a couple more decades that he’ll take over.

“If we’re in charge of death, then who’s in charge of life?” Vernon asks you one day after leaving a retirement home.

“The Deity of Creation is in charge of all things life.”

You haven’t thought about Seokmin in a while. Well, that’s a lie. You have, it’s hard not to with your job, but you haven’t really put a lot of effort into thinking about him in depth. It’s been years since you have. You wonder if Seokmin is also training a successor.

“The current deity in charge of life is named Seokmin.”

“Will I get to meet him?” Vernon asks you.

“Maybe one day.”

The first time you run into Seokmin after that day in the hospital is nearly a century after the incident. Vernon is grown and ready to take over your job, but you’re not quite ready to give it up, so you two work in tandem. You like the kid. He’s nothing like you or your predecessor, but you don’t think that’s a bad thing.

It’s a random encounter, you’re just walking past a coffee shop, when you bump into the overseer of life. Standing at his side is a boy, who looks to be around Vernon’s age. He’s got bright eyes and round cheeks and just from first sight he reminds you of both Seokmin and his previous mentor, Soonyoung.

You and Seokmin stare at each other for a moment. You’re not sure what to do, or say. He looks the same he always has and a sense of comfort settles in you at that thought.

“Y/N,” Seokmin is the first to speak, “hi.”

“...Hi. Uhm, Vernon, this is Seokmin-ssi. The Deity of Creation.” You turn to your mentee. “Seokmin, this is my successor, Vernon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Seokmin sends a big smile at Vernon before turning to the boy next to him. “This is Seungkwan, my successor. You boys will be working with each other soon.”

Seungkwan smiles at Vernon. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you!”

Vernon smiles back at the boy. You stare at them proudly. The boys move off to the side to talk and you and Seokmin stand there in silence for a moment.

“Y/N-ah.” You look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I- I’ve missed you.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. You look away from Seokmin, not able to keep his gaze anymore. You stare at the two boys excitedly discussing something. You know the world will be left in good hands.

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said to you and I’m sorry that I ignored you and I’m sorry that I ruined hundreds of years of friendship. You can stay mad at me, but you need to know that moment is my only regret ever. I never should have said those things to you and I-”

“I missed you too, Min-ah,” you say softly, cutting off the boy. You finally look back at him. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Y-yes. It has. You still look as lovely as the day I met you though.”

You guffaw. “Yah, don’t try to flatter me now. The world is everchange, but we stay the same, Seokmin.” You’re not sure if you mean in a physical sense, or whatever relationship you have with Seokmin, but you find it works for both scenarios. 

“Yeah, yeah we do.” You think Seokmin feels the same way. “There’s a lot to catch up on.”

“There is.” You glance over to where the boys are still talking. “Seungkwan, is he-”

“He’s been ready for quite some time now. I just couldn’t bring myself to go on without-”

“Without fixing us?” Seokmin looks surprised at your words. “I think I’ve been the same way,” you admit.

“Your Vernon, he’s good?”

“The best.”

“Well then, I think it’s our time to catch up.” Seokmin holds out his hand to you and you take it. His palm is warm against yours. It’s comforting, it feels like coming home. You and Seokmin walk off, leaving the boys your shoes to fill, ready to spend the rest of eternity together.

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[diamondcitydarlin]

i think probably the worst part of the whole thing is that I just don't really care anymore, the investment I had at the end of season 1 just straight up no longer exists. no, it's not just bc a blorbo got killed off (and there's a lot of reasons to be angry about that), it's mainly bc most of the characters at this point feel like hollow shells of who they were a season ago, including the stede x ed pairing as a whole (which I really just don't care about anymore at all, sorry). and no it's not bc 'Izzy got all the development and there was no time for anyone else' like of course there was time for everyone else, provided that they hadn't opened the season on all those characters making 180 character changes with no real explanation, provided they hadn't overloaded the damn season with nonsense that goes nowhere. JimxOlu was my OTP after StedexEd in season one, both of them were some of my faves, and not only did neither of them even really resemble who they were in s1, their relationship which was of such great importance in the former just suddenly...is something else now. Not people in love, but 'friends who have fucked once lol' and are wingmen for each other now because...??? Oh but Jim's dating Archie who...*checks notes* was in a Snake Cult? I think? That's about all we get on her, apart from the fact that she likes making out with Jim I guess. And I guess Zheng can't just be a powerful woman character that exists in this narrative without a romance of her own, so let's just toss her together with Olu and never explore or explain that with any kind of depth. Jim has neither trust issues anymore nor do they have ANY interest or investment in their revenge scheme or the Siete Gallos (REMEMBER THAT PLOTLINE?? REMEMBER?? APPARENTLY THE WRITERS DON'T) they're just kind of goofy all the time now for no reason. Olu's leadership arc? His being a confidant to Stede? Where the fuck did any of that go? Are they all a polycule or are they all just separate couple friends? IDK WHO CARES THIS IS HOW IT IS NOW I GUESS. Like, why am I supposed to care about any of that? It doesn't even feel like the characters I watched before.

And StedexEd. Jfc there's so much to say that other people have said better but the constant bringing up of conflicts, breakups, and then immediately resolving those issues with heartfelt reunions/kissing as if that's supposed to be sufficient got really old for me after awhile. The lack of explaining how their 'whim-prone' romance to this point was bad, the lack of explaining how they reconcile their different goals was also bad, but oh they can just go RUN AN INN NOW! Yay happily ever after! ????? "Ed, you've got family" which he immediately leaves to go try another life path he's probably going to suck at and hate WOW so romance. Like either figure it out or break up for good, it just makes them an obnoxious toxic couple who never seem to communicate or bother to try but are supposed to be the one we love the most and are rooting for. And that sucks, because I loved them once! GARBAGE!

There's only so much blame one can put on external factors for this. I worked in production once, I edited scripts and was a go-between for notes and writers, and this is the exact kind of thing I would've felt compelled to point out; we only have x amount of time and x amount of episodes to properly tell these stories, we know this, so maybe lets be realistic about what we can fit in here and do justice and what we can't. Maybe let's not just throw every fucking thing we think of at the wall to see what sticks while completely ignoring/retconning character traits and stories we set up in season 1. But nah, that's what happened!

Like, what is there to watch for at this point if s3 gets greenlit? I fail to find anything that I'd care about seeing continued, even the peripheral characters like Frenchie and Wee John and Roach, whom I also loved before and still do but barely did anything, so I guess I can tune in to watch them do more of nothing? Idk man it sucks when it's not just 'wow that was bad I hope next season is better' but instead 'wow that was so boring and incohesive I have no more interest or emotional investment in this to continue'