#remember the episode with the envelopes?

[reidiot]

it's like, i want to do something, and then i remember a criminal minds episode

[cumironi]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo’s blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo’s other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn’t find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn’t dare. you wouldn’t dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo’s eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon’s gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that’s how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wishes you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it’s just ‘his’.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we’d end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the ‘p’ as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people’s skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.”

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of ‘knowing look’ before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it’s been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don’t— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn’t make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that’s not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn’t dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn’t.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

gojo’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it’s all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can’t give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn’t know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you’ve always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don’t say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he’ll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i’m destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that’s. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it’s a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it’s unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

gojo reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it’s hurting. “i’m so happy for you,” your smile didn’t reach your eyes. someone once said that people’s hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it’s broken, shattered before him.

please don’t be happy for me, be miserable, so i don’t have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i’m so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn’t believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[ophelieverse]

if you are still taking requests I have one:Jace returning to Winterfell to reader,who is Cregan younger sister,to make the “song of ice and fire” become true after his mother told him😌please and thank you❤️

✩ ‧₊˚ and his will be the song of ice and fire

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

-Summary:during his first stay at Winterfell,Jace and Y/n got much closer than they should.Now,after knowing the prophecy about the song of ice and fire from his mother,Jace is determined to make it true with the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

-Warnings:spoilers of the last episode,reader is a Stark,Jace cheats of Baela(him and reader pull a Rhaegar and Lyanna)smutty time,asoiaf classic warnings.

•-thank you so much for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending you lots of love

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

On that night in early Winter,as a milky moon shines white above the hills,the snow falls soft to whitewash the gentle slopes and the houses in the valley of Winterfell.The air smells of the last breath of smoke blown out of a fireplace,ice,earth and wood.

It's late,and many lights are already off,but the fire of torches along the streets still shine.The tavern lanterns are also still lit,as are some fireplaces or oil lamps in homes.The world is immersed in the peaceful quiet of that cold night,which already brings with it the algid squeeze of winter now closer and closer.

In the secluded area of the cold godswood,in the gardens of the castle of Winterfell,silence envelopes the floral landscape like a lover embrace and Jacaerys worries that the unrequited sound of his beating heart could be heard throughout the whole realm.

The blood-red leaves in the branches of the weirdwood tree danced calmly in the breezy wind,the snow had stopped falling from the black sky leaving only the white stars to shine.The torches lights were too close and too bright,Jace eyes were hurting and his cold hands were trying to warm up in the ones of his future bride.

The young prince is really trying to focus on the soft words,the promises of eternal love and loyalty,of the Septon that works for House Stark.But they sounded so foreign to him,almost as if they were another language.It’s impossible for him to focus on anything else outside the fact that he’s really getting married.

During his life,Jacaerys has never knew well how weddings ceremonies actually worked,but he was pretty sure that this one,his,wasn’t what people would call a normal one.He has a vague memory of his mother second wedding,just the day after the worst night of his life,but he still could remember a loving couple becoming one in the heart and soul.Promising each other,in the house culture,love and devotion,eternal loyalty.

He also remembered the wedding of his uncle and aunt,Aegon and Helaena,in the big and bright Temple in King’s Landing.How two children spouted oaths that they didn’t believed in,framed by perfect swaths of red,green and yellow.Smiling faces of their families,proud to be reunited for such a joyful moment.Then the celebration after in the castle,the people dancing and laughing,the melodious music and singing,the delights of the night.

Meanwhile this wedding,his,was quiet and rushed.Reserved and in the dark shade of the forest.There are no wonderful colors for decorations,no smiling families members or friends,aside from Cregan who was chosen as a witness to the union,and Jacaerys is in the middle of an icy tundra of suffocating silence.

Y/n is standing in front of him,adorned in pure pearly white just like the snow at her feet.She wasn’t just beautiful,she was otherworldly and vaguely threatening.Bright eyes,rosy cheeks and red lips,hair falling in the wind,the smile of and enchanting enchantress and the nature of a young she wolf.Blue winter roses crowned on her head,she looked like a religious icon,someone people sacrificed themselves for.

Jacaerys had spent weeks with her during his stay in the North and he couldn’t forget her for days.He had engraved her name in the palm of his hands,the way she would laugh with him,the way she carried herself and looked at him,forever in his heart.It was impossible to not grow to love her,the beautiful lady was made of magic and stardust.

The logics and sermons,the words and phrases of the Septon weren’t the one to convince him to swear his allegiance and love,the way she held his hands and softly smiled at him driven deeper into his soul.Y/n had wrapped herself into his ribs,crawling right inside his heart,to keep him warm.

He was born for her and she was born for him.The ice and the fire,it was written in the destiny.

His mother words still echoed in his mind as he looked at Y/n.The song of ice and fire would be the product of their love,a son or a daughter that would have ruled and kept the realm together and safe.Someone who would inherit the blood of the old Valyria,the blood of the dragons and gods,fire and warmth from their father.And the blood of the first men,the old gods,the ice of the true north from their mother.

Y/n was his truth,Jacaerys was the dream,she was the ice and he was the fire.

She made him sick with desire,she always did since the moment he was first introduced to her.With the desire to have her,to possess her,to have her around him forever.And now he had the perfect opportunity,the perfect excuse for his betrayal to Baela and his mother who had betrothed them months ago.

Now he could still believe that he was a good person with a purpose,not only because of his own selfish dream to be with Y/n and to marry her just because her figure hunted his memory and his carnal needs.Because he was growing to love her and wanted to grow old with her.It was for the realm,he was repeating to himself over and over to shut down the guilt,and it would be what he would tell his mother and cousin when he and his new wife would go to Dragonstone after their wedding.For the realm,for the world and the Targaryen dynasty.

Jacaerys is dressed in pure black,trembling in his furry cloak,he’s trying to calm down his breathing that relies heavily through his nose in forms of little white clouds.Idly he wonders if this was a funeral ceremony instead of a wedding,but this was the best they could manage in such short time.

The young prince had came to Winterfell,flying on dragon back,with the last lights of the sun and everything was orchestrated in secrecy as fast as they could.The child that would be born from him and Y/n needed to be fully legitimate,he didn’t wanted to risk a bastard just like he was,not when the child wouldn’t have become the protector of the realm,the one from Aegon the Conqueror dream.

Y/n was promised to Lord Jason Lannister eldest son and Jacaerys was promised to his cousin Baela.Everything of this was the highest of treason but the war was already there and they couldn’t go back now.His mind couldn’t help but circling around and back to the empty and oddly depressing atmosphere around them.

Before them a old and solemn man was going through some chants about the gods witnessing the union and behind them a grand total of just two whole guest.Cregan stood there,wrapped around his cloak,still and silent like a statue,Vermax was a few feet away looking at the scene like he could understand what was going on.

«In the sight of the Seven,I hereby see you these two souls,binding them as one for eternity.Look upon one another and say the words.»the Septon words were spoken with decision under the torches fire.

Jacaerys swallows thickly and feels like he’s been choked by the cloak that now is heavier on his shoulders.A beads of sweats drips down on his forehead and make his hair stuck on his neck even in the cold air.He wants nothing more than loose his collar and breathe deeply.All that clothing is far too stiff and uncomfortable and he feels like a stranger in his own body.He has to tell himself,as he close his eyes,that this would be over sooner that he’ll realize.

His mouth feels dry as he wet his lips before speaking his vows«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden. Crone.Stranger.I am hers,and she is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»his voice was firm as he held her hand tightly.

Y/n smiled at him,she tried to be brave just like he was.Her hands were shaking in his,her nerves had eaten her alive the whole night,from the moment she had put on her mother old dress,to this very moment.Now she couldn’t go back.

She really started to love Jacaerys,how could she not?He was so gentle with his words,so kind with the way he touched and looked at her,perfect in everything that he did.And the fact that him,such a beautiful and loving man,had chosen her as his wife and future mother of his children,was dream coming true.As a child,she often dreamed of becoming a princess and to marry a prince,just like the ones in her fairytales.

But now she would’ve had to be the future Queen in a kingdom divided in two,with a war that was screaming outside their door.Jacaerys seemed to read her mind,squeezing her hands lovingly and nodding his head to reassure her,in a way to tell her that she wasn’t alone and that they would be together in the bad and the good.

«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden.Crone.Stranger.I am his and he is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»Y/n pronounced every single word softly without taking her eyes off her husband.

Maybe this was really a funeral because,as she spoke,Y/n realized that there was no turning back now,they would not be just a prince and lady anymore.When did everything became so complicated?She started to get melancholic as she started to register how much her life had changed in few seconds,that the best part of her new life was also the hardest.

Just a few weeks ago she was running around the godswood with Jacaerys as she was teaching him about the old gods and the legends in the north and now all of her dreams and ambitions were threatened by her husband family.A family that she was part of now.

They were supposed to change the world by bringing their child into it,but the world was about to change them and it certainly wasn’t a change for the better.The greens usurping the throne,prince Aemond killing prince Lucerys proves that.

Y/n head was hurting as she thought about that.And she couldn’t forget about the part where both her and Jacaerys were promised to other people.They would be viewed as traitors among his family,his uncle Daemon wouldn’t take the news kindly and he certainly wouldn’t congratulate them.Y/n father also didn’t knew about any of this and she still feared his reaction.

Regardless all of that,of having the world against them.Both Jacaerys and Y/n didn’t cared about all the venomous things people will say about them or the things that they would have to go through,because if they were given a second chance they would do it all over again.They were loving each other too much to let the other go.

«With this kiss I pledge my love.»Jacaerys said to her,moving his hand to caress carefully her freezing cheek.

His lips felt soft and surprisingly warm against her cold ones.And just like that they were officially married in the sight of the Seven and law.

There is no time for celebrations,no music and tables filled with joy,decorations and all sort of foods.Instead they found themselves in Y/n chambers,the one she grew up in,the one that saw her going from a little girl that played with her dolls to a married woman.

The sheets were changed clean,some fresh flowers were put to adorn the headboard and right on the small table at the center of the table there was wine and some fruits.Cregan had to be the one organizing the whole thing as a small gift.

Y/n takes off her cloak and picks up a small red berry.Jacaerys does the same,moving around the room quietly,he raised his eyes and caught her attention with a sweet smile,so tender and yet so seductive,his lips shiny and wet with a clear juice that slowly dripped down his chin.

«Let me help my wife.»his voice sounded more confident now that it was just the two of them and no one else.

The word,wife,made Y/n feel hot against her chest and down her legs.Standing behind her,Jacaerys wrapped her in his arms.She shuddered when she felt his lips on her neck and along her shoulder:she closed her eyes and abandoned herself against his chest,sighing.

«Jace,husband.»whispered the beautiful lady,her eyes closed and her head slightly tilted back.

«From our love will come the child that this world needs.»Jacaerys had said between the kisses«And I will take care of both of you.»he continued.

«You promise?»Y/n voice was just breathless whisper.

«Nothing will happen to you,»his hand crawled down her stomach leaving shivers on her clothed skin,only to stop at her lower belly.

«But…your family…your mother and uncle-»she tried,biting her lip when he started to suck gently behind her ear.

«Our family will understand.»he corrected her«My mother knows the truth and she will grow to love you just like I do,especially after we will make her a grandmother.»he reassured her sweetly.

A shiver flashed down her back and inflamed her loins.The young prince lowered her shoulder strap to discover her breasts and squeezed it slowly between his fingers,flaring in turn as he felt the nipple turged against his palm.

Y/n staggered,her heart throbbing,her breath shortness and her legs were already trembling but Jacaerys was quick to support her:he lifted her in his arms and took her to the thalamus,on which he gently laid her,a splendid candid flower that seemed to fill that place of shadow with light and of which it was impossible for him to do without.

«My beautiful princess,my beautiful wife.»he murmured against her lips kneeling above her,her eyes shiny,her face turned on despite the pallor.

Y/n took his head in her hands,dipped her fingers between his long curly black hair like a crow's wing;she felt his whole body quiver himing,his heart beating fiercely,and like every time he made her understand that he wanted her,a glance was enough for her to make sure of his devotion:she beat her eyelashes darkening the beautiful irises for a moment,licking her lips;she barely curved them,aware that that gesture drove him crazy,she slowly pulled a flap of the dress to herself by uncovering one leg and flexed it,letting the toe of her foot slide down his thigh,continuing to look at him intensely.

Below the fabric of his pants,Jacaerys felt the delicacy and sensuality of her touch.The tremor of excitement that attacked him was violent, lightning-fast:he stared at her for a moment and couldn't resist any longer.He impatiently freed her from the gown leaving her naked and just as quickly he undressed himself,the look that ran longingly on every corner of her body,unable to give up admiring her as the first time and like every time.

«I’m yours.»Jacaerys promised her,whispering against her lips«Nothing will ever take me away from you.»he kissed her sweetly.

She whimpered and her heart started to beat faster«I’m yours.»she repeated.

He sank with his nose and mouth between the curves of her chest,grabbed her soft hips,stroked her thighs and bottom.Y/n flared all up as she felt his lips pop greedily on her breasts,squeezing volupously around one of his nipples as he brushed it with his tongue and teased the other with his thumb.Pervaded with chills,she widened her legs and clawed her fingers on the sheets;she lifted her pelvis sighing,longing for it anxiously.

The pleasure exploded when he began to draw with the arabesque index finger in the center of her body:she moaned,her breasts shaken by palpitations,her nipples turgid and sore from the pleasure of kisses and caresses,the groin and lower abdomen on fire.

Jacaerys stretched out on her,wrapped her every horizon in darkness:all her muscles were pulsing, the heartbeat that became gradually more frenetic from the burning need to love her,to get drunk on her.He looked at her again he could never have satiated himself to admire her beautiful face - and as soon as she returned his gaze,sweet and sensual every time more,the voluptuousness clouded his mind.

He sank between her thighs,tearing a lament from her that he suffocated with his lips;he clinged her tightly in his arms and kissed her with trepidation,proud and passionate as he pushed himself into her.Y/n clung to his shoulders pressing against his chest with her breasts and belly,her thighs squeezed to his hips:she felt like screaming again, but her tongue danced unbridled in her mouth,the movement of the hips energetic against her,providing her with each push a pang of intense,deep,absolute enjoyment.

The prince hands ran over her body with ardor,she felt his fingers demanding and sweet at the same time on the flesh,in the throes of estasy,she could do nothing but indulge in passion,following the fast pace with which he was moving inside,shadow inside the light,light wrapped in shadow.

«Jace,oh my gods!»Y/n had breathed closing her eyes and pulling the hair at the nape of his neck.

Going crazy with pleasure to hear his bride enjoy,Jacaerys pushed with greater vigor,eager to increase her enjoyment to a great demour,excited by her moans and delighted by the fervor with which she clenched herself by scratching his back with her nails.

«Y/n,oh my sweet little wife.»he groaned against her her,sweat covering his forehead.

He loved her,impetuously and madly,letting himself be stunned by her sighs,her heartbeats,her scent,similar to a flower that spreads his fragrance moved by the north wind caress.

Y/n quivered below him,the breast prey to his incessant caresses,the mouth half of his insatiable kisses;she felt his love to pierce her with tenacity,the pleasure to become more and more powerful and intoxicating and when she reached her peak she screamed,overwhelmed by the intensity of that embrace:this time Jacaerys did not hold back her scream and in turn could not hold back a moan as he made sure to release inside of her.

Appealing to the last forces Jacaerys had left,he bent down to kiss her and finally overturned at her side,panting.Exhausted,Y/n abandoned herself against the bed,her long hair spread in waves on her pillows.

Jace hurried to cover her with the sheet so that she wouldn't get cold and smiled at her,as soon as he felt her fingers touch his cheek.For a moment he stood to contemplate her eyes,her lips,her smile...she was even more beautiful,after love.

«Y/n,»he whispered as he came back to hold her tenderly to himself«I love you.»

She sought shelter in his arms,fulfilled and satiated with strong emotions but still eager for him.She placed her head on his chest and let his caress her hair«I love you too Jace.»she answered.

He smiled,placing a hand on her warm and sweaty skin of her lower belly where he hope a new life would start to grow soon«I promise you,our child will change the world.»he whispered.

They fell asleep together,ice and fire united.And the next day they would still be like this,in each other's arms,bound by passion,seduced by love.Creating a new life together that would have changed everything.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode four : participation prize . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Setting: 3 years ago . . 

You looked down at your shoes, the expensive pair the brand that sponsored you had provided for the event of the 'century' they call it, and you just wished mentally you drowned a glass of something to ease your nerves before you got into the car. It was your first award show as an actor—as an official actor, and it was right after your first gig had blown up and a few months after your 4 year relationship with your fiancé had ended. 

You took a deep breathe, sinking into the leather fabric of the carseat, your anxiety off the charts, you didn't know how to react—well you knew you shouldn't react in the first place—all that media training would be for nothing if you fucked up now, and the idea of fucking up in itself made the anxiety boil . . they didn't quite explain what fucking up entails, just not to go againest your brand . .  but what even is your brand at this point?

The media was so unpredictable and so was your newfound fanbase, just yesterday you could remember how much of your fanbase turned on you because you joined the influencer to celebrity train by accepting an acting gig—and now you're being praised—your anxiety grew as you recalled how many friends had turned on you that day, as the trailer released, and now you're nominated for three different awards for your role? How fucking stupid. 

You could hear the cheers of the crowd as the car closed in on the red carpet, and you found it overwhelming—suddenly the makeup on your face, the designer clothes that weighed you down . . felt all too overbearing for you to take . . but as the car door opened and you were guided outside . . you put your best face on and walked down that carpet, because you got this far, might as well live through it. 

Time: 1:23 pm Location: arena

Vil sat down on his assigned chair and table at the Arena, a little sigh escaped his lips as he let his nerves finally cool down, he wasn't normally overwhelmed, he worked hard to trample those feelings of unease, anxiety, and perhaps even a bit of envy down to the mud, to the very corner of his very being, so it would never have to be touched.  

He saw someone in blue, walking towards a table just a bit far from his, and he didn't recognize them—to be fair there were tons of new faces all around, this year has been particularly . .  welcoming, if that's what he could even call it—but he couldn’t really make out their face either . . so maybe he’s mistaken.

An hour has passed, and Vil should be sleeping right now, he really fucking should be—relaxing in his new apartment at The Chateau . . it's newly furnished . . his silk bed sheets—he's pretty sure he's drowned about half a bottle worth of champagne as the announcer seems to be worse than last year, why do they feel the need to prolong every second possible and yet give the winners less than 30 seconds worth of time to speak?

Time: 3:33 pm Location: arena

You feel sick to your stomach, sitting alone at your table—you don't know if it was on purpose, or if the people who were supposed to be sitting beside you just hadn't bothered to turn up for tonight's event—or if they were ignoring you, your not aware at all and that just made your anxiety so much worse. 

You honestly felt sick, you haven't even eaten anything just in case you threw up . .  and yet right now, that seemed to be affecting you worse, the emptiness in your stomach made you feel weirdly uncomfortable, and yet you couldn't get up, not when your category was so close to being presented—what if your seat was empty when the camera lands on you? What would the people say? What would your sponsors do? What would— 

"And the winner of best lead actor in a romance film—", the announcer fiddled with the envelope, opening it and throwing it somewhere on the stage, "Y/n L/n!"—everyone started clapping, and for a second all of your surroundings went still, your body stilling from shock and your breathing for the first time in the whole night regulated back to normal . .  after all this fucking time it all felt . .  okay. 

You wanted to cry, tears of joy. You didn’t. And made your way up to the stage like a rational person. 

Time: 3:35 pm Location: arena 

Vil stares at you coming up to the stage, the way you struggled up the stairs—because of course you did—the way your shoulders seem to shake just slightly, and how you gulped on screen—so unprofessional . . you looked like you were about to cry . . and that made him feel . . angry? Angry. 

Vil clenched and unclenched his fists as he leaned back into his chair mumbling, "They look like they're going to break down", and Rook turned to face him, here on attendance in place of his wife, "You got all that from them climbing the stairs?", he asked with a raised brow, drinking his . .  whatever that was. 

“I’m an actor, of course I did.” 

Perhaps it was anger, maybe even envy . . or maybe he just hated that he liked looking at you—or your voice—or .  .  . Vil’s mind went quiet for a moment. 

And bitterness washed over him, he was never upset with losing an award, no not since he’s been in and out of therapy but something about losing to an influencer hurt him—hurt his pride, someone who stood on camera for 30 seconds doing little to nothing . . beating him. 

Wow, way to wreck a man's pride. 

Vil turned to face you as you walked back, eyeing your every movement . . Did you know you walked weird? At a 30 degree angle to be exact.

Rook mention <333

Sorry for the late update our wifi was so slow making and downloading graphics was actually hell and I had to eat.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

— taglist ♡ ; @well-look-at-this , @honkai-freak , @kingnem10 , @merviolet-asks , @katzline , @pebble-bb , @meigalaxy , @lordbugs , @crowbird , @yuus3n , @azriel-sama , @reivelmin , @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 , @eliza-be-t-h , @feverish-dove , @yejiswifex , @l0v3r666 , @cece-cherries , @frootloopscos , @abell2029cluster , @ephemii , @alienlatteinspace , @frangiipanii , @vamprel , @kittycat246 , @jar-03 , @leifsclubroom , @everettelz ,

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[tossawary]

There's a really quick joke in BTAS that genuinely got me. It's in the episode "Eternal Youth", where Alfred and his girlfriend(?) Maggie Page go to a health spa being run by a mysterious woman named Demeter. Of course, this turns out to be Poison Ivy.

And when Batman has to go to this spa to save Alfred and Maggie, and he's confronted by Poison Ivy as she reveals herself, he says (I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember exactly) something like, "Only you, Poison Ivy, would name yourself after the Greek goddess of plants."

Poison Ivy has two henchwomen in this episode (who unfortunately never show up again) calling themselves Lily and Violet, also present. And either Lily or Violet responds, with something like, "Ooh, someone graduated high school literature."

And then the confrontation continues, but that joke fucking got me, because that IS a common level of mystery-crafting in comics and also this show specifically. Superheroes apparently have to know their Greek and Roman mythology (not just because of Wonder Woman's rogues) because there's a high chance a villain is going to pretentiously name some project by looking up mythology in an encyclopedia.

It also makes me think that it must be REAL easy for the Gotham rogues to frame each other for anything, which is sure to cause grudges and fights between them if it gets found out. Everyone has conveniently themed themselves! Maybe it fools Batman sometimes and maybe it doesn't!

"Aha, a green envelope with a purple question mark! It must be the Riddler again," says Robin. "When did he get out?"

But Batman just inspects the card and says, "Wrong type of paper. Wrong shade of green. Nygma is picky about the quality of his printing. Someone picked this card up from the greeting card section of the local pharmacy."

"Oh, huh, you're right," Robin replies. "Holy marketing mistake, Batman, why do they even sell these?"

"I wish they wouldn't."

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jungkook x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up.

part one: the storm, the envelope and the granddaughter ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ next. masterlist

i. the storm

  for the first time in a long time, your eyes flutter open to the golden curtains of the sun and not the blaring noise of a royalty-free iphone alarm. the rays are harsh and welcoming all at once, as you blink away the stinging sensation and adjust to the muddy path ahead. there was no mistake about it, the town withstood an unforgiving storm last night. however, mud coating the wheels of your bus seemed to be the only indication, as you became distracted with the kiss of summer from the skies above and the clear cerulean painted across cotton candy clouds. 

  memories of amber valley became bygone over the years, as memories always do. but, amber valley seemed to be a long lost chase you haven’t won in years and the older you became, the town disappeared entirely. it was like the smell of your favourite scented markers and the feeling rumbling at the pit of your stomach on the first day of school - nothing but faint ideas from your childhood. 

  “we’re not going to visit grandpa this summer?”

  at age twelve, you couldn’t fathom missing out on the midsummer festival or being away from your horse, marshmallow. for that age, absolutely everything felt like the end of the world, whether it was missing an episode of your favourite show or not getting an invite to a classmate’s sleepover. it was a little different for you, though, as you looked at your dad’s dull eyes. they’d been dull since the divorce went through that february. they never shone since and that’s how you knew things weren’t going to be the same.

  he shook his head at you, but never met your eyes. “no, i’m sorry. he’s coming up for to the city at the end of july, though - “ it would be later in life, precisely at age 25 and months removed from your grandfather’s funeral, when you would learn that he only began coming up to the city to regularly see a hepatologist, “ - so you can see him on your birthday.”

  you did, in fact, see grandpa for your birthday and for the rest of the years to come. he laughed with his whole body and his smile never failed to reach his eyes when he gave you updates on the farm and amber valley. grandpa did his best, but time passing came with you losing your bright eyes whenever he spoke fondly of his town. it was inevitable, when the big city enveloped your teenage self and you became more concerned with interests that come with the turn of youth - clothes, parties and boys.

  now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of those ideas. you stood by this at heart, embracing femininity and defending it alongside your love for science and life. you grew up and began wearing high heels to dates, to university lectures and finally, to your 9-5 on the busiest corner of your city’s financial district. you had long outgrown your riding boots, likely tucked away at the back of your closet in your studio apartment. you began just politely smiling and nodding when your grandfather shared local amber valley gossip about individuals who were just names to you now, also tucked away at the back of your mind.

  even though you eventually grew past the age where you needed your parents’ permission to make the trek over to amber valley, past the period of time where your mother refused to speak to your father to coordinate your trip to see your grandfather, the idea of returning to the valley never crossed your mind. like summer camp, it was something you thought you didn’t need anymore and preferred spending your school-less months with your friends in your hometown, working away at your first part-time job and getting your first ever drivers’ license. a seventeen year old city girl wouldn’t want to waste her summer at her grandfather’s old farm.

  “mrs. oh’s husband just left the valley for his deployment overseas. may god watch over that family.” it was one of the last times you saw grandpa, late on christmas eve when everyone else went to bed. your mom, her new husband and your little sister had bade their goodnight’s by 10pm and left the two of you sipping honey lemon tea by the fireplace. 

  your mom’s new husband made a lot of money. that was one of the first things you noticed about him and it was so different from the two bedroom inner city apartment you were raised in. it was certainly different from your grandpa’s farmhouse, where the television only got three channels and all of the windows never fully opened because they would fall apart entirely if you pulled too far. you and your grandpa mused these thoughts on their white leather couch, when the conversation slowly moved back to how the old farm was going.

  you tried to sound interested. “oh really?” the reality was you couldn’t remember if the oh family was the one that ran the general store or the one couple who seemed to be constantly fighting, on the verge of divorce.

  grandpa grunted in response. “mhm. thankfully, they have jungkook helping out around the store. ah, the wasted potential with that boy, but such a kind heart.”

  “jungkook..?”

  “oh, you remember him! the two of you would always bike by the beach,” he said. “i’ll never forget, you two would always come back and show me the seashells you collected that day. always made a competition out of everything.”

  he chuckled and you joined in, hiding the despondence for being unable to recall. grandpa didn’t seem to notice, though, continuing to discuss amber valley. cranberries and pumpkins were the strongest crops of the fall, mayor kim was re-elected for a third time and something about the town soon getting their first chain convenience store since amber valley’s founding. then, grandpa’s face lost his smile and a serious expression formed on his ageing features. he asked you about your job and how life was for you.

  by now, you’re 22 and working an entry-level position with nothing but a bachelor’s in your pocket and a hunger to climb the corporate ranks. like any fresh college graduate, there was no meaning to life if it weren’t for paying overpriced rent, mimosa sundays, dating apps, and maybe remembering to go to the gym every now and then. the life you lived was loud from city traffic and heavy from looming student debt. 

  “my job is..okay. i’m just starting out and i’m really just trying to do my best,” you replied.

  grandpa, still with a serious look, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it gets stressful, doesn’t it?”

  you opened your mouth to respond again, but failed to find your voice this time. your stress was found in a growing caffeine addiction and getting too tired to give your parents a call on the weekends. adulthood was everything you expected and nothing you expected. you secured a job that you dedicated four years of studies to and just like that, was pushed into a world of hustle and bustle and nothing in between. once this realization settled, you tried to hide it by cracking a faint smile. grandpa saw through it, though - he always did. 

  “well, darling, if it ever does get too stressful..” you became confused when grandpa reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. he handed it to you and you turned it over, finding no writing other than your name in your grandfather’s decorative penmanship.

  you asked, “what is this, grandpa?”

  he finally smiled again, but shook his head. “a gift. it’s yours for when you find that you need a break from the challenges of life.”

  grandpa only gave gifts from the heart. only, this time, you wouldn’t know that he was giving you his entire heart and soul. you had taken this envelope and slid it in the drawer of your desk at home, where you tirelessly worked after hours, even after returning from the office. it was hidden away, but always poked your curiosity at the back of your mind. however, you restrained from opening it, even when it eventually became one of the last things you had from grandpa. 

  ii. the envelope

the only time you took the pristine envelope out of your desk was on the day of his funeral. 

  it was no surprise that grandpa wanted to be buried in amber valley, his home for over fifty years and his birthplace. it was once your heart’s home, too, once upon a time when you were a child skipping rocks by the town river and rode your horse through mustard-hued sunflower fields. for that, you were nervous to return and confront the realities of your coming of age in the face of a town that only lived in your memories, sickeningly reminding you of the years that have gone past.

  wedged between your mother and father who had only began speaking to one another as of three years ago, you stared blankly at the onyx coffin that, in about 20 seconds, was gone from your sight and lowered into the ground. it happened all too quick. you clenched your arm tighter, squeezing the envelope tucked underneath and protecting it from the rain. your very last summer in the valley was marked by constant rain and wind and once again, you greet the town amidst storms.

  the drive was quick, having gone directly to service after the three hour drive from the city. you couldn’t make much of the town through the gloom and suddenly, the valley was so much colder than you remember. like your being since your grandfather’s passing, it lost its colour. it was unwelcoming and felt like a punishment for your neglect over the years. amber valley was unforgiving as much as it was perfection. 

  you couldn’t make out much of the attendees through the gloom, either. many of them appeared absolutely devastated, sobbing and cold-faced at the goodbye of a beloved neighbour. your grandfather was always well-liked amongst the townspeople, helping out his friends with mundane tasks whenever he had free time away from the farm and shared his warm personality at community events. this was affirmed through the stories that were shared about him at the service, recognizable for his distinct good heart, but seemed so far away for you, having detached yourself from amber valley.

  “oh, an unfamiliar face! what’s your name, dear?” a man around your father’s age with salt and pepper hair was handing out hor d'oeuvres at the post-service gathering in the church basement. he seemed to be the most upbeat one in the room - though, it wasn’t saying much, considering the occasion.

  you told him your name, while looking around for either one of your parents. being in a room of strangers wasn’t your favourite activity, especially following a funeral. the last thing you wanted to do was socialize, feeling like you weren’t even in your own body all day. while you were saddened and to an extent, numb, you knew your grandfather’s passing was coming up. his illness was going to catch up to him and you spent months mentally preparing yourself for the day you would have to say goodbye. despite not being surprised, your grief was accompanied by the painful nostalgia of the town that raised you in the summertime.

  the man looked at you, appearing to search your face for something. “you’re the old man’s granddaughter? bunny?”

  the nickname almost made you flinch, having not heard it in so long that you were surprised you recognized it. you began searching the man’s face, too, also looking for some signs of familiarity. for so many years of your childhood, you were almost exclusively called this nickname by adults and friends alike.

  there wasn’t room for a response when the man pulled over another individual by his sleeve, merely attempting to walk by in peace. this one was a man closer to your age and you were too distracted by the glisten of his facial piercings to scan for recognition. the second thing you noticed the adornment of tattoos peeked from below his sleeve and trailed onto his hands. the third and final thing you noticed about him was how gentle his hands were. this was realized because the sight of this man made you drop whatever was in your own hands in surprise.

  the only thing you were holding was your grandfather’s envelope, no longer pristine and stained with a few raindrops. you noticed that you had been clutching onto this keepsake the entire service. you bent down to reach for it, when he also attempted to make the save for you. your hands brushed and you looked up at his eyes, suddenly taken away by confusion.

  “jungkook, you remember bunny?” 

  you forgot the older man was in your presence, as he was the one who pulled jungkook over in the first place. jungkook. this was the little boy you spent hours running around with all those years ago. although you seemed to forget when your grandfather had last brought him up, those moments began to rain down on you upon taking sight of him for the first time in years. you had barely looked, but it hit you.

  jungkook handed the envelope over to you and you cleared your throat, standing up properly and trying not to wobble on your favourite high heels. he also stood up and seemed to mirror your confusion, not understanding who was the person in front of him. you muttered a thank you and fixed an imaginary snag on your cardigan.

  “i just go by my first name now,” you said through a tight smile to both men, still feeling like your gut was punched in after hearing the nickname that your grandpa coined,

  “oh, of course. you’re all grown up now!” the man exclaimed. “do you remember me? mr. kim?”

  the truth was that you didn’t remember him by face, but instead remembered that your father mentioned a man of this name being the mayor. if he was the same person, mr. kim’s father was the previous town mayor, as well, and was your grandfather’s best friend before his own untimely passing. given his larger than life presence, it was same to assume that the man in front of you was the tiny valley’s politician.

  “mayor kim, of course.” you hoped you sounded convincing.

  jungkook was still standing to the side, the same confused look etched on his face. “you’re the girl that tricked me into eating mud that one time?” he blurted, as if an imaginary lightblub flashed above his head

  that took you by surprise and you almost snorted. “i didn’t trick you, you just went for it.” the quick snap back also took you by surprise, having left behind a bit of your normal self in the city before coming down to the valley for the funeral, as well as your instant recollection.

  somehow, this memory was clear as day and you could remember jungkook as a seven year old with a horrible bowl cut and missing teeth. you wore light-up sneakers and candy bracelets that day, sitting on the porch of your grandfather’s farmhouse with him and were exchanging dares to see who would give up first. maybe that was why your grandpa said you two were - 

  “ - always competitive,” jungkook said.

  although the two of you surely shared countless more memories, it was this one that stood against the test of time and it showed when it immediately hit you with a laugh. it took jungkook a second, too, but he eventually gave in and joined with his own. you hadn’t realized it until his swollen eyes became crescents in his giggles, but he seemed to be having his own trouble of a day.

  “there it is, jungkook! nice to see you finally cheer up a bit,” mayor kim encouraged and jungkook’s chuckle immediately fell back to a straight face, almost intentionally. you suspected that this was not the first time today that mayor kim was on his case.

  before mayor kim could add on, his attention gravitated towards something at the other end of the room. he sighed and set down the hor d'oeuvres, checking the time on his wrist dressed with gold. 

  “oh, i’m being called over,” he sighed and turned back to you. “it was a pleasure seeing you again, i hope to see you around town before you have to go back to the city.”

  swiftly, mayor kim weaved his way through the crowd and just like that, it was just you and jungkook.

  you took this opportunity to give jungkook an actual once over, comparing it to the faint image you had of this man from when you were children. undeniably, he was handsome, but you were more concerned with the fact that this was still the little boy you spent your summers with. he grew into his face and you didn’t realize that you accidentally said this out loud.

  jungkook looked as much taken aback as he was amused. “oh, you got jokes, huh? that’s what you learned growing up in the city?” he teased.

  “i didn’t mean it like that - “ you started, but he waved you off with a laugh.

  the conversation was a bit overwhelming, considering you were still stuck in a church basement following your grandfather’s funeral service and could not locate your parents anywhere. jungkook recognized this in your face and eased into a sympathetic smile. somehow, you felt okay enough around him to drop your tense shoulders for the first time that day.

  “i’m sorry, i should be giving my condolences. your grandpa was a loved man by everyone here.”

  looking around the room, it was clear. everyone had shared fond stories and were making toasts in his honour. you felt out of place, but more so because you felt like you should have been joining in with the attendees. instead of being a kind of extended family that once saw you grow up, these people were strangers. you weren’t sure if anyone recognized you, having tried to lay low and not draw any attention to yourself. the only times you seemed to have caught anyone’s eye was when you were sat beside your parents at the burial, but no one dared approach you then.

  “you were like a son to him, too,” you offered. it was true, given the amount of time you spent with jungkook as a child, maybe even going so far to call him your best friend at one point. 

  he let out a long breath, eyes moving to the enlarged portrait of your grandfather propped up on the wall. “that’s nice of you to say. i miss him already. i’m sure you feel the same.”

  you learned quickly that, in light of your disappearance from your grandfather’s farm over the years, jungkook was the one who began helping out and taking over what were your old chores. your grandfather was physically able, but he kept the young boy around for company and made feeding the chickens an excuse to have his presence. hearing this made your heart drop, feeling an unknown sense of regret that you didn’t know existed when it came to the farm.

  “it’s not like that!” jungkook cut in, seeing the tears well up in your eyes. “he would always talk about the two of you going on adventures in the city and how he loved spending time with you whenever he came up to visit. he knew that’s where your heart was.”

  you sniffled a bit, having already promised yourself to limit your breakdowns to two that day, and took a second to reel it in. “sorry…i don’t mean to - “ you sighed. 

  “it’s okay. it’s weird being back here, huh?” 

  it was weird. it was so damn weird that the air of amber valley stuck with you for the months following, like bubblegum in your hair and a melody on loop in your head. you couldn’t shake it. not when you were working an extra 20 hours overtime in a week, not when you became stuck in traffic everyday, and especially not when your boyfriend of three years dumped you because you “changed” so much since the start of the year.

  and, it was true. you changed a lot since your conversation with your grandfather on christmas eve, with his words echoing about the stressors of life everyday. it opened your eyes to how much you were really struggling and it wasn’t simply you who had changed, but your outlook on life. ever since you were twelve years old, everything shifted to the fastlane and years breezed by you in the blink of an eye. everything moved so fast and you never got a chance to catch your breath. one moment, you were 15, sneaking a sip of your first ever drink, and the next, you were 24 and drinking straight out of the wine bottle on a tuesday evening. you wondered how you suddenly found yourself jaded at a 9-5 black hole of a job that sucked out your energy and passions. 

  these days made you think about what truly deserved your energy and what truly were your passions. did you like your everyday routine of gluing on false lashes and slipping on pantyhose? were you happy, alone in your apartment with not even a cat to talk to? your parents had their own worlds and new lives to deal with and long stopped asking why you never call. your friends were co-workers, having no time to meet anyone new. you didn’t even have time for hobbies, given how tired you were every time you finished work and the amount of overtime you did.

  one thursday night, you arrived home from work at 10:13pm and decided you had enough. it was constraining, nearly strangling you with exhaustion everyday. you spent the entire day wondering was “it” was and when you kicked off your loafers by your doorstep, it hit you. this was what your grandfather was talking about.

  almost walking with fear of what was to come, you creeped over to your desk. after your grandpa’s funeral, his envelope no longer lived underneath manila folders in your drawer, but found a place on the surface. you kept it there, as it mocked you every time you opened up your work laptop after hours. you didn’t realize why you left it in plain sight, until this moment when you came to terms with the fact that you were reminding yourself of him.

  “if you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i’d lost sight of what mattered most in life. . . real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place where i truly belong.”

  it took you precisely two weeks to pack up your things after opening the envelope. nobody could convince you not to. your mother complained that you were wasting your degree and your father had concerns about the massive role you were about to take on all by yourself. it didn’t matter.

  two weeks later, you met amber valley and its sunlight for the first time in years, pretending that the storm ceased and the sun shone to welcome you back. 

  iii. the granddaughter

the sun faded quickly when you realized the bus dropped you off on a plain dirt road in the middle of nowhere. the movers took the rest of your belongings separately, so you were left with nothing but a duffel bag and a cell phone that couldn’t find any signal.

  “oops,” was all you could say. you didn’t think it was a crazy idea, that there would be service at the very least.

  it took you a few moments to let the situation settle in and for you to realize that you were abandoned in a place that was unfamiliar to you. was it unfamiliar? you looked around, seeing nothing but fields on fields and accepted that there was no way you could even try to remember where you were, even with the help of the maps app. you knew you made it to town, but you were certainly left at the farthest point of the borders. 

  and then, you heard it.

  it was over at least ten years since you last rode, but your ears perked up at the sound of a horse’s gallop naturally. you had to squint, but it was unmistakable.

  they were going in the other direction and they were going fast, so you had to think fast. you tried yelling and waving your arms, but quickly saw that it was useless. so, you dropped your bg and brought your hands to your mouth, releasing the loudest whistle that your vocal chords could handle.  

  the horse and its rider kept going and for a few seconds, you thought you lost hope. but, then, as you were about to pick up your bag in shame, you watched them take a wide turn back around. they were headed to you.

  you waved your arms back and forth again, affirming that you needed their attention. as they came closer, you could make out a figure of a man with chestnut brown hair peeking out underneath his cowboy hat. he wore medium wash, stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt. 

  “that was the loudest whistle i’ve ever heard,” he hollered, drawing closer to you.

  you shook your head bashfully. “didn’t even know i remembered how to do that.”

  “pretty sure the whole town heard. my name is namjoon, are you visiting someone here?”

  likely a few years older than you, you tried to recall someone named namjoon from your memories. his appearance didn’t ring a bell, so you were searching your brain for his name or if you heard it from somewhere.

  you told him your name and then squinted at him, pausing for several moments before speaking again. “are you. . .joonie?”  

his eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at you like he couldn’t understand what language you were speaking. “pardon me?”

  joonie. he was mayor kim’s eldest son, who was sent to a fancy arts camp every summer when you were younger. you only met him a few times throughout the years, as he often arrived back the same week you were due to leave your grandpa to go back to your parents, but one feature stuck in your mind always. his dimples. you thought you recognized namjoon’s polite smile and piecing it together with his name seemed to be the key. 

  “i’m pretty sure you’re mayor kim’s kid. i’m bad with faces, but you’re joonie, aren’t you?” the confidence in your voice was fuelled by the fact that no one really left amber valley. it was the kind of place where families would raise their children with the kids they grew up with themselves. 

  namjoon seemed to still be calculating your appearance in his head when you heard the faint noise of galloping once again. the two of you looked over to see another person on a horse who was looking around the field, likely looking for namjoon. the man in question brought his hand to his mouth and released a whistle similar to yours - though, you did gloat silently because yours was, in fact, louder.

  still, it was enough to get the person’s attention and they finally made eye contact with the two of you. they began approaching and you could make out that it was a man’s figure. still, even with how small of a town amber valley was, you were surprised to see who it was.

  “jungkook!”

  “namjoon, i just spent fucking 15 minutes looking for you - “

  you tried to keep your expression neutral when you saw that it was actually jungkook on the horse. he wore an all-black outfit of cargo pants and a wife beater tank that exposed his tattooed arms. it made it hard to keep your expression the same.

“oh, hey. did you come to collect something from your grandpa’s property?” jungkook suddenly ignored his previous frustration at namjoon, cleared his throat and dropped his voice by an octave, in addition to cutting his voice’s volume by a cool half. he swiftly hopped off his horse, too cleanly to be casual.

  namjoon’s confusion only doubled, darting eyes between the two of you. “sorry, have you guys met?” he didn’t miss the way that jungkook straightened his shoulders without even trying to be subtle.

  you missed it, though, having cut away your stare to double check if your phone managed to get any signal. none. sighing, you shook your head at jungkook, as he began explaining to namjoon.

  “ - we called her bunny. remember bunny?” he nudged towards you.

  namjoon looked back at you again and concern formed. “you’re the granddaughter. oh, you were at the funeral - i’m sorry about your loss. your grandpa was such a great person.”

  you put on the same tight smile every time someone mentioned him. the worst of the grief came back on some days, but you learned how to manage it day by day as time went on. jungkook watched you do so and cleared his throat.

  “the old bus stop is the worst,” he interrupted, gesturing towards the tiny sign that indicated that it was in service. “people get lost all the time when they arrive. well, we don’t really have a lot of people visiting by bus - “

  you couldn’t help but cut in. “i’m not visiting.”

  the two men gave you and your single chanel duffel bag a blank stare and wondered if the idea was so hard to believe. it was for your parents, who both thought you caught them on some sort of prank show when you told them about grandpa’s envelope. you were wearing platform mary janes and a leather skirt in the dead of the june sun, so maybe they had a reason to be confused.

  there was a moment of silence, so you decided to speak again. “yeah, i’m not visiting. um, i’ve decided to take over my grandfather’s farm. i’m moving to amber valley permanently.”

[zyafics]

BEFORE DAWN | Jason Todd

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Ex!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — Jason suffers from a failed mission and needs you. Word Count — 3.0k.

Content — angst, hurt/no comfort.

Zya's Notes — this is my first time writing Jason, bear with me.

Loss is a frequent echo in Jason's life.

Weighted to the depth of his soul, anchored by his part. Since his birth, nothing but the blanket of death envelops his life—from his mother, to his time with the Joker, to the Lazarus pit that brought his resurrection. Because even if it did bring him back to life, the innocence behind his eyes was gone.

You've always known this. From the very first day you met him, Jason warned you he was damaged. At first, you assumed it to be a precaution he gave all his lovers because he didn't see himself as something worth loving. Some of that remains accurate. However, over time, you learned more about his secrets and tales and discovered his statement wasn't an exaggeration.

Because it's easy to love Jason Todd.

But it's just as easy to hate him.

Kicking off his boots, Jason steps inside his apartment and disengages his helmet from his head. He sets the red mask on his shelf, maneuvering to his cabinets in search for the hardest liquors in stock.

Tonight had been a rough mission. Despite the countless lives he saved, he still couldn't rescue a child from the massacre. All he remembers is the piercing screams, the little girl's pleas for help, his hushed reassurances that he's almost there.

But he wasn't. All there was left was silence.

Jason uncaps the glass and swallows a large gulp, moving to his bedroom. He lands on his bed with a thump, a groan slipping through gritted teeth from the pain.

There had been phone calls and pings from the Batcave, where he was sure the rest of the family had found surveillance of his gruesome mission, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Louder than the rest, he hears the moronic ringtone Dick set for his number playing on a loop, like an irritating itch that refuses to die down. Ignoring them all, Jason drinks from his bottle until there's nothing but droplets left.

That's when he hears a shy creak from the front door.

His body hums with heightened nerves, not easily seduced by the copious quantities of bitter alcohol Jason tried to force down his throat. He highlights every sound echoing through his empty apartment—the leisure clicks of heels against hardwood, calculating the distance it travels—and by the time his bedroom door cracks open, you peek through.

At first, he thought he'd imagined you. That happens. A side effect of the Lazarus pit, Jason managed to control it after years of training—to distinguish between what's real and not. But it comes back on occasion. However, nothing was worse than the episode months after you broke up with Jason.

"Hi, Jay."

Jason blinks. His hallucinations never spoke. They always observed and trailed after him as a figment of his imagination, a shadow from the corner of his peripheral. But they always remained silent. Taunting, even.

That's how he knows this is real. You're really here.

He should feel a cool sense of relief wash over him. It's been months of anguish and grief from missing you and wanting you back. It didn't matter that the breakup shattered him, he knew that if he saw you again, he would welcome you back with open arms.

But none of that arrives. All that came is hurt.

"What are you doing here?" He rasps, and despite his attempt at keeping his hostility at bay, they seep out like spits of venom.

You flinch, gripping the doorknob tighter as you resist the urge to run. "Dick called me."

He huffs, "Dick's always in my business."

"Maybe it's because he cares about you."

"If he cared about me, he would've been here."

Jason's words weren't aimed at his older brother. It's a direct shot to your chest, but Jason doesn't have a speck of remorse. His eyes are bloodshot, making his irises glow, and his expression hardens into sharp lines. You'd told Dick this was a bad idea, that Jason would want nothing to do with you, but the eldest refuted that you're the only one he would be willing to listen to.

Perhaps, once upon a time. But not now.

It's easy for you to leave, turn your heel, and exit the apartment complex without another exchange. But you don't. It's only been a few months since you last saw Jason, but you can't pretend that you don't miss him. Don't long for him every night. Don't check the news and headlines for any articles regarding Red Hood and his nefarious activities after dark.

Pushing the door wider, you step into the familiar bedroom and approach Jason, each step feels heavier than the last. He eyes you carefully as if you're prey entering a trap, and you grab the bottle clung to his chest before looking at the empty content.

His hooded gaze raises, "Didn't know I was supposed to share."

You scoff, but your shoulders loosen slightly. You set the bottle down on his nightstand, grabbing his muscular arm and hauling him up from the mattress, with difficulty because of the weight of his gear. Like a practiced choreography, you unlatch his belt, to the straps around his pecs, and unload them to the closet where it's stashed for the next day.

Jason says nothing as you return to the space before him, making a conscious choice to not meet his stare. You're surprised by his lack of resistance, especially as you drag him to the nearby bathroom, flicking the light on, and setting him in front of the sink counter.

When you pull out the aid kit from under the cabinets, Jason finally breaks the unbearable silence. "You remembered."

Your breathing lulls and you sink in the memories of the past. Long nights of patching Jason up, after his encounters with criminals and felons—the whips of clashing blades and the graze of bullets on skin. You even took a medical course at Gotham College to better equip yourself on how to take care of your boyfriend.

Well, ex.

"How could I forget?" Your voice is quiet, almost indistinguishable, but Jason clings to every little word. "I was the one restocking it."

"Do you remember your training?"

"Of course I do," you say. "They don't give out As for anybody."

A faint smile breaks out across Jason's face, even if he didn't want it to, and you lift your head to discover the easygoing expression. You return with your own grin, and a moment, suspended in time, there's a place where you forget the broken status of your relationship.

Despite the rough exterior Jason tries to exert, attempting to hold you at arm's length, his eyes soften upon meeting yours, tracing your features as a way to drink you in after months of agony and separation. They linger on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, wondering if they still taste the same as before.

But as quickly as it came, it left. Jason turns away, curling his hands into fists, his jaw sharpening by the grind of his teeth. Remnants of his anger remain, pulsing, eruptive, and targeted at you. It dulls with every passing moment in your presence, but it isn't fair. You can't return exactly as you were as if you didn't add to his misery.

"Jason?"

"Just finish up," he snaps, stonewalling his emotions to keep himself safe. "I don't have all night."

You sigh. Unraveling the roll of gauze, you examine the cuts and bruises on his shoulders and forearms. It isn't too bad. Jason has always been good at protecting himself—and you—so you believed the blood soaking his shirt was mostly his opponents rather than his.

When you grab the isopropyl alcohol, the can is light. "It's empty," you murmur, setting the gauze back in the kit. Jason glances at the bottle in your hands.

"It's—"

"I know," you mumble with a nod, slipping out of the suffocating bathroom before clinically moving through your old apartment, and finding another bottle behind one of his doors. When you're about to return, you catch a whiff of lavender in the air and freeze, searching the room to find a lit candle sitting on the island in his kitchen.

Your expression softens, admiring the glass filled with wax before you make your way back to the bathroom. Jason's attention is set on your phone sitting on the counter's edge.

"Someone texted you," Jason informs, his arms crossed against his chest as his gaze drifts to your face.

"Oh," you set the bottle down as you pick up your phone, reading the message.

Jason studies your expression, wondering who it could be. He didn't check out of respect for your privacy, and he's holding his tongue from asking, but a curious thought pounds at the edge of his mind. Did you move on? He couldn't resist by then. "Who is it?"

"Tim," you answer, setting the screen face-down on the countertop. "Also, Damian. He says to 'get some rest, Todd,' and that you still owe him a match tomorrow morning."

You punctuate your sentence with a soft smile, hoping to simulate the feelings from before, but Jason doesn't return the gesture. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and a sting surges through his veins. "Didn't know you still kept in contact with my brothers."

"Didn't know you still kept the candle."

If Jason was surprised by your response, he doesn't reveal it. He leans against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into his spine as his arms remain crossed over his chest. "You were right. The aroma covers the smell of blood."

Your lips curve with surprise, your eyes brightening from his admission. "I was right?"

"Don't let it get into your head."

"I wanna hear it again."

He says your name as a scold, but you merely beam from his words. There were some suggestions you gave Jason when you lived with him—making his place less James Bond and more homey. Before you came, he tracked grim and mud into the living area, wafted a tingeing scent of copper, and covered the entire apartment in weaponry and computers. You adjusted some things, but they were accepted with reluctance, and you hadn't expect Jason to keep any when you left.

Jason mirrors a gentle smile on his face as he watches the excitement radiate from you, reminding him of an easier time. That's how the start of your relationship felt—giddily, charming, and loveable.

"Your turn," Jason declares, uncrossing his arms and returning them to his side.

"There's not much to say." You admit somberly. "I keep in touch to make sure everything's okay."

"With everyone?"

"Dick, Tim, Damian..." You trail off, contemplating adding the last member. "And Bruce."

You study Jason's face as he absorbs the information, but nothing helps you identify his emotions. That's one of the difficult things about being with Jason. He never reveals his true emotions to you, always making you guess his thoughts. He doesn't tell you when he's hurt, or angry, or happy, because he keeps it all to himself.

At first, it didn't bother you, because you knew he didn't trust easily. But, sometimes, it feels like he didn't trust you at all.

You can't bring yourself to ask, to beg him to talk, so you go back to helping him with his wounds. In the silence, you clean the cuts, layering a thin layer of ointment cream over the scars, and bandage him up. By the time you're done, Jason remains as quiet as he was before.

That's truly all Dick asked you to do. He couldn't get into contact with Jason, and knowing an unannounced visit from Nightwing would do nothing but provoke an argument, he thought to ask you to check-in. To make sure he isn't beating himself up over the loss in his mission.

You didn't have to clean him up. Take off his gears. Make sure he isn't hurt. But you did.

As you make your way out of the bathroom, you glance at the exit. Jason can return to his bed on his own two feet, and as you're about to bid a polite farewell, Jason cuts you off.

"Why didn't you ever check up on me?"

The question startles you. Turning to see him exit from the bathroom, Jason stops a couple feet away from the bed, keeping a safe distance from you. His gaze never wavers.

"Jason..." You swallow a bile forming in your throat. You didn't want to give him some pseudo-bullshit to comfort him. He has always appreciated the truth. "We were broken up."

He huffs, "Which was something I didn't want."

"I know."

"It destroyed me,"

"I know,"

"I needed you," he confesses with such rawness, you can't help but falter from the sound. Your hands clench into fists by your side, nails digging into your palms to ease the ache in your chest.

"I..." You stammer. "It was hard for me. Being your girlfriend."

The good has always been good; euphoric and phenomenal. But the bad had been bad; miserable and troublesome. You couldn't handle the whiplash of emotions, of being pulled to absolute highs one night to being dragged to complete lows. It was too much for your little heart.

"I love you, and I'll always will, but I just... It was hard."

Jason stares at you, and behind his strong demeanor, something cracks behind the armor. He swallows thickly, his mind running a hundred miles an hour trying to rationalize your confession. "Did you... did you move on?"

"Jay..."

"No, I don't want that," he asserts, despite knowing a positive answer would wreck him, "I want to hear it. Was it easy to forget about me?"

"Jason, please," you beg, throbbing pain eliciting from your clenched palms as tears crowd your vision. "It took everything of me to step inside your apartment. To see you. When Dick called me, I truly didn't want to go, but he said you needed me."

His breathing slows. Pieces forming together. "And you came."

You nod once. "And I came."

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling with unsteady beats, and you can't help but take this as an opportunity to bid a formal farewell. You can't take it. But just before you can take two steps towards the bedroom door, Jason calls out with a rough voice. "Stay."

It takes everything of him to say that. Vulnerability seeps into the very crevices of his words, to his dark eyes, waiting for your answer—waiting for you to deny him. "I'm... I'm not asking for anything else. I don't expect anything. But I need you tonight."

Your eyes soften. You know how hard is for Jason to talk about his emotions, about his needs. You know it isn't good for you, every rational bone in your body telling you to leave, but you resist against them. Extending your hand, Jason doesn't hesitate to take it into his palm, pulling you into the bed.

It's so easy. You slip under the covers, crawling over to Jason's side as you lay your head on his chest, laminating the irregular beats of his heart. His arm settles around your waist, brushing against your thin tee, in an act so endearing, so natural, it's almost forgotten that this is the first intimate touch in months.

It hurts to be around Jason. To remember the good times. To recount the worst. His breathing remains unsteady—not because there's any damage to his lungs, but because that too is a side effect of the Lazarus pit. When you first dated him, you thought every night's rest was his last.

It causes you to tighten your grip around his torso, needing to keep him real. Alive. Your breathing becomes steady when you feel his hand glide over your skin in soothing strokes.

"I thought you hated me," Jason admits after a long stretch of silence.

"I could never hate you," you whisper. "That's not possible."

"You left me."

You don't answer that. Abandonment can be constituted as hate in Jason's world and there's nothing you can say to make him believe differently. Lifting your head from his chest, your eyes wash over his relaxed features. The fluff of white hair in the mass of dark roots, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, jaw, and the crooked outline of his nose. It's as if you're trying to commit to memory all the changes that have happened since you've been gone.

"I'm here now."

Jason nods and you return back to your previous position. It's always been difficult for him to find his slumber, but he manages to find it easy with your presence.

But as he falls asleep, you can't seem to follow him. For a moment, you wonder why everything was such a problem. Why couldn't you have stayed in this relationship if the both of you brought to each other a sense of peace no one else can encapsulate? But, then you remember.

It's the mornings. The morning after every bad mission, every disaster under the domain of Red Hood. Jason would return to the streets, becoming more reckless, vicious, and death-prone than ever before to make up for the loss he had the previous night.

And it killed you. Sitting in this apartment, obsessively checking for any articles about how Red Hood finally struck his last time. Even though Jason may have been raised from the dead, given the opportunity of a second chance, he lives his life as if it's his first.

Jason goes out into the world believing he's invincible. And maybe he is. Maybe he can beat death once again. And again. And again. But you can't sit around and watch. Because every night, every day spent wondering if he is hurt, if whether he's going to walk through the front door, kills you.

So, by morning, when the sun filters through his blinds and a warm ray lands on Jason's scarred and healing skin, his muscles throbs with pain, and his head pounding with a mild case of hangover, he slowly opens his eyes one by one.

And he remembers. He remembers everything the night before. How you came. How you stayed. And when his hand drifts to the place on his chest, to find any remnant of you, he discovers nothing but the wisps of air.

Because before dawn, you're gone.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Ten

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: talk of death and dying, grief, reader gets to a pretty bad place, stabbing

A/N: It’s earlyyyyy. If this was a Friends episode, it would be called, “The One Where Reader Loses Her Goddamn Mind”

As a child, Gurney would take you to the seashore to reward you for a particularly good session, whether it be academic or physical training. You used to look forward to these rare occasions. Not only because you loved the sea, but because your beloved mentor would loosen and his scarred face would slip into a semblance of a smile. On this specific day, you remember the sky being impossibly blue and the water still as a puddle.

You had reveled in your good fortune.

Laughing, you had initiated your favorite activity — chasing the waves down the shore then running away as the tide crashed at your heels. The memory of that day invoked a sense of warmth and safety, enveloped by the sunlight and the briny smell of the sea.

You had taken a break from your antics to catch your breath when you noticed dimples forming in the sand whenever the water receded.

You squatted down, sea-sprayed pants rolled to your calves, to inspect your discovery. After a few moments, you realized that snails are causing the dimples, being no longer than your pinky nail and entombed in pastel-colored shells. Delighted, you watched them scurry to bury themselves in the sand before trying to grab one for yourself. You dug fervently in the wet sand, giggling as they slipped out of your still chubby fingers.

Finally, finally, you managed to scoop up a hunk of crumbling sand that hosted one of the tiny snails.

Crying out triumphantly, you hurriedly brushed the sand from its purple-colored shell and then held it up to the sun. The small, nearly translucent creature disappeared into its home. But you didn’t care. You found it and it’s yours. Gurney, sitting in the sand a few feet away, calls, “What did you find?”

You skipped over to him. Slowly uncurling your careful grip, you showed him your treasure.

“It’s a snail,” you had told him enthusiastically, “I caught him in the tide.”

Gurney smiled indulgently at you. “How cunning you are, Lady Y/N.”

You started to dance, nonsensical and without rhyme or reason, the dance of small children so possessed by happiness that you needed to release it somehow. “I’m going to take it home and show Papa,” you said as you spun away, snail clutched to your chest.

Later, Gurney approached you. His feet had been bare and encrusted with sand, face reddened by too much sun. He squinted at you. “Lady Y/N, I must tell you something.”

“Hm?” You had been busy balancing on a piece of driftwood, arms spread out like wings. You had transferred the snail to your pocket after worrying your sweaty palms would lose grip on him.

“You must return your friend to the sea.” When you gazed up at him in disbelief, he ruffled your hair. “It will die if you take it from its home.”

“But…but I love him,” you said with child-like solemnity. Your lower lip jetted out.

Gurney’s smile turned pitying. “I know you do, Lady Y/N. You have a gentle heart. But sometimes, when you love something, you must let it go so it can be happy and safe. You want your snail to be happy, don’t you?”

You paused and considered this, then nodded.

Stepping off the driftwood, you moved a few paces closer to the shoreline and laid the snail lovingly atop it. It wiggled into the sodden sand and vanished as the tide washed over it.

Tears that you were too ashamed to shed burned your eyes, and you sniffed.

“You did the right thing, Lady Y/N,” Gurney had told you, “because of you he will live another day.”

You thought that by journeying to Giedi Prime, by marrying the na-Baron, you would be ensuring the happiness and safety of your family and beloved mentor.

But now, like the tide washing over the snail, they were gone.

At first, you were detached from reality, wavering slightly. Asha and Feyd and the servants stared at you. It felt as if a numbing agent had swept over you, completely obliterating any sense of self. You ran the words over and over in your mind, hoping that if you repeated them enough you might be able to change their meaning.

The House of Atreides has fallen. The House of Atreides has fallen. The House of Atreides has —

Tears blurred your vision. Your lower lip trembled. You said, very quietly, “You did this.”

“Y/N,” Asha had said, stepping towards you.

“You did this,” you repeated louder, voice loathsomely tremulous. The numbness in you turned sharp and jagged. “You did this. You knew. You knew.”

Asha started, “We didn’t —”

“You think we did this?” Feyd snapped.

You barely heard him as the pieces fell into place, memories of the last few months surfacing and creating your gruesome truth. The threats from Rabban, the Sardaukar soldiers, Rabban’s recent departure. There was no doubt the Harkonnens were behind your family’s downfall. Had they all known? Were you just another pawn in another game that you hadn’t wanted to play?

Hysteria crept into your tone. “You knew. You knew. And you lied! You fucking lied! All this time you knew they were going to kill my family and neither of you did anything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Feyd sneered.

Asha looked to him, alarmed. “na-Baron, perhaps this isn’t the best time to —”

“If I wanted to kill your family, I would’ve done it on our wedding day,” Feyd continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He advanced on you. “We had no hand in their deaths.”

“Don’t come near me.” You held up a hand to prevent him from getting any closer. Your gaze flickered between Asha and Feyd, to the servants watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. “None of you come near me.”

“Y/N —”

“GET OUT!” You screamed. Tears had streamed down your face then, which was surely reddened by anger and grief. “All of you! Get out!”

The servants scurried away, leaving Asha and Feyd in their wake. They stared at you; Asha in fright, Feyd’s expression unreadable. Your whole body shook with the concentrated effort not to launch yourself at them. “I never want to see either of you for as long as I live.”

Feyd’s mouth worked. “Fine.”

He spun on his heel and disappeared. Asha lingered momentarily, seemingly searching for something to say, but ultimately ended up trailing after the na-Baron with her head low. Now that you were alone, you flung yourself into your quarters and started pushing furniture in front of the door.

You wanted to be alone. And you never wanted to see another Harkonnen again.

That had been, what — three days ago? Four? You had stopped keeping track. After barricading the doors, you had alternated between wailing your sorrows and destroying everything you hadn’t pushed in front of the door. Then, from that night and into the next two days, you had curled into a corner of the room and slipped in and out of consciousness, getting up only to relieve yourself.

It was the third day, then, that Feyd began knocking. At least, that’s what it started as.

Soon he was pounding on the door, throwing his body against it, screaming and cursing and crying out your name. He roared, “You can’t stay in there forever!”

Each strike of his fists on the wood reverberated through you like a physical blow. Not once did you respond to him, much to his ire, demanding that you let him know you’re still alive.

Were you?

You weren’t sure. And even if you were, you had nothing to say to him.

Your sadness was a living, breathing thing, its arms reaching around your middle in an embrace that slowly squeezed the air from your lungs. You could feel it compressing your bones, your blood, pressing down on you with merciless force. Everything melted together in a devastating act.

And then, in fragments of time when you could wade through your crushing grief, grim realization would settle in.

The last time you had seen Jessica, you not only insulted her status but dismissed her from your presence. She’d tried to reconcile, through your father, of course, but you had denied her even that. Would you have felt as justified in your decision if you knew she would be dead soon?

Your heart panged at the thought of Leto, too — how you had so cowardly ran from him to avoid his disapproval of you. And now…now you would never see them again. Never hug your mother or feel the brush of your father’s beard on your cheek, inhale their familiar scents.

You were alone. Completely alone.

And worst of all? It was the fault of the people you had just decided worthy enough to trust.

This delivered a hit to you almost more crippling than the deaths of your family: the death of the new family you thought you found. Asha. Feyd. Their faces circled through your mind. You did your best to shove them away but sometimes you thought you saw them in the corner of your eye, heard Asha’s musical laugh or caught the fluid, graceful movements of Feyd’s stride.

And each time you turned in a flurry of hope that they were there. Because, despite their betrayal, you wanted them there to comfort you.

The fifth day passed. Your images of them increased, to the point that you staged arguments with them and raged and sobbed and came undone. You vaguely realized that the food you kept refusing was affecting you, the poison your body now depended on taking its toll without daily reinforcement. Your days became delusions and fake conversations. You were weak, mentally and physically, unable to move. Some of the nausea and fever returned from the first few days after dosing, too, rendering you powerless.

Your mind played tricks on you. A memory of Caladan superimposed on top of Feyd’s mouth, his body on yours, Gurney and your parents and the sea and the snail and your own bloodstained hands. The Feyd your subconscious conjured found you like that — crumpled and spent and sodden with tears — after you imagined he broke into your quarters.

Unlike the other images, however, this time he scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed where he laid you down on the bedclothes and plied you with something bitter-tasting that drifted you off to sleep.

A bright light washes over you, and you slowly open your eyes. The first thing you notice is a warmth inside you that previously had been missing. Then, that you’re lying in the bed and the room has been cleaned and, for the most part, rearranged.

You jolt up. There’s a cuff around your left wrist, keeping you bound to the bed. It rattles as you yank on it, urgency seizing you.

“It’s just a cautionary measure, na-Baroness.”

A woman glides into view. By the crown of dark haired braided back from her forehead, you know she’s not Harkonnen. The woman stops at the end of the bed and smiles reassuringly.

“Who are you?” You croak.

“My name is Doctor Wyn. I am a physician that’s been called in to aid your recovery.”

You consider this. “Feyd-Rautha called you.” She nods at this, and in response you recline back against the pillows. “I don’t want to see him.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Wyn says. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I suppose.”

“Your body was suffering from the lack of nourishments and, without your dosage of poison, severely unable to regulate itself. Did you suffer any…delusions? It’s mostly commonly associated with poison withdrawal. I want to clarify what you remember of the last few days.

You hesitate but eventually recount your memories, including seeing Asha and Feyd. “The last thing I remember is a vision of…him.”

Wyn hums. “I suspect that was real, na-Baroness. He’s the one who managed to get to you. And in good time, too, you were close to death.”

“He…found me?”

“Yes, na-Baroness.”

You think back to your fragmented memory of the event, of Feyd’s pale, concerned face hovering over you as he tucked you into his body.

That had been real?

“Did he put you up to this?” You ask.

“No, he did not,” Wyn answers with a hint of amusement, “but he has been waiting anxiously for you to awake. Do you mind if I inform him? I will only be gone for a moment.”

You nod your assent. The thought of Feyd makes your stomach twist uneasily.

When she leaves, you turn your gaze up to the ceiling. The last few days float over you, the news of your family’s deaths. The numbness is now replaced with something you can’t quite name — not sadness or grief. It’s almost peaceful, except for a flicker of anger.

Wyn returns. You’ve moved yourself fully upright and flattened down your hair. The surprise is evident on her face. You tell her, “Let him in.”

“na-Baroness, are you sure?”

“Yes. Do it now.”

Wyn nods again before leaving. This time, the sound of approaching footsteps is only too familiar. Feyd freezes when he sees you. An indecipherable expression crosses his face before disappearing behind his usual indifference.

You take him in greedily — the contours of his face, his broad shoulders, plush lips. All of this pales in comparison, though, to the scar that starts at his right brow and slices across his nose to the opposite cheek.

Feyd examines you. “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same to you.” You want to know what caused the scar, but you don’t want him to know that you care. “Why did you save me?”

“It would be terribly inconvenient for me if you died.”

“Are you sure it’s not because I’m the only thing linking you to Arrakis?”

Feyd’s gaze hardens. “Explain.”

“Arrakis,” you repeat like it’s obvious, “isn’t that why all of this is happening? I’m the last of the Atreides line and as my husband you stand to inherit the planet.” And the spice trade.

“Admittedly, I’ve given thought to it,” Feyd says with a tired sigh, “as did my uncle, who I suspect orchestrated this entire tragedy.”

“Don’t separate yourself from him,” you hiss.

“Did you not hear me?” Feyd rounds the bed to your side. “The Baron has been acting of his own accord, scheming behind our backs, wife, with my idiot brother. And while we should’ve been retaliating, you’ve been…here.”

“Here, what? Mourning my family?”

“Do you not wish to avenge them?”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek. “I do.”

It’s true — his words fan the anger in you into a burning inferno. You do want to avenge them. You want the Baron to pay for what he’s done.

Feyd sits down on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. His hand twitches as if to grab yours but ultimately thinks better of it.

“We can’t do it if you do not trust me and believe me complacent,” he says. “Tell me what I must do to prove it to you.”

You don’t reply. Instead, you stare at him, achingly beautiful, this man whose darkness calls out to yours. You can tell that he is earnest about this. His suggestion is a summation of your relationship thus far, you push him and he pushes back harder. Only, this time, you would push last.

“You hurt me,” you murmur, “and now I want you to feel the same.”

“How?” Feyd asks. Did you imagine his eyes flick down to your mouth?

“Give me your dagger.”

His movements are slow, deliberate. Not once does he tear his gaze from yours as he unsheathes the dagger at his hip. Feyd presses the handle of it into your palm. It’s heavy, a weight you’re not certain you can even wield in your current condition. You wrap your fingers around its leather grip.

And Feyd never even flinches as you plunge the dagger into him.

Part Eleven

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1

[moirindeclermont]

It's a new week, and welcome all of you!!

Today's episode of "All Polin's First Times We Didn't See" is about dreams (in two parts, this one is Colin's, tomorrow is all about Pen). Please continue to make requests. We have roughly two weeks to go before this series ends and Kinktober starts... I have around 6/7 prompts already, so I have space for more 6/7. I can't wait to read your requests! But now, let's talk about dreams.

Pen might ask about dreams since Colin said he was dreaming of her. Maybe they are cuddling in the morning, and it's a nice quiet day where they get to indulge a bit. "Tell me about your dreams," says Pen, playing with the hair on his chest - something so intimate it still makes her heart beat faster. He looks at her, "Only if you tell me yours," he says, and by the blush Pen now has, he knows it's going to get juice soon. Pen nods: she must be really curious.

"The night after our first kiss, I didn't sleep at all," he confesses. Now, the memory is happy and not bittersweet because she is here with him, so he can laugh a bit at his own dramatics. "You rocked my world with that one, Pen," he adds, stealing another kiss—now they can, now they are married. "But that evening, I was so tired that I went to bed early, and I dreamt about me coming back to your garden," now he gets shy because he knows what's next.

He looks at the incredible woman who is looking at him with such awe in her eyes: "I confessed my feeling... and you—dream you—said you felt the same. that I occupied your thoughts constantly. Then I kissed you, not like our first kiss. I pressed you against the wall and made you mine with my hands and mouth," he tells her, and she smiles at him. "You're such a romantic; even your dreams are as sweet as you," she says, but he laughs with her, "That was only the first dream... "

"Every night after that, it got worse and worse. I imagined having you under me. Exploring your bosom," and he traces a nipple with his fingers, making it hard. He pinches it, making Pen gasps. "Once we were at a ball, and you were dancing with someone else... in the dream, I walked towards you, pushed the Lord away and kissed you there right in the middle of the room," he says, remembering how he approached her and Lord Debling he thinks now he might have taken some inspiration from his dream.

"After the hot ballon, it got even worse," he adds, noticing how she is trying not to move. "I had an erection constantly," and as he speaks, Pen takes him in hand, pumping him slowly. "I imagined your mouth around me or how you tasted. I bought an eclair that day to get close to how your mouth would taste," and he shakes his head. "You had me under a spell, Pen," he says, his breath just a bit quicker because of Pen's movement.

Pen now takes him in her mouth. He would never get used to seeing her in between his legs, eyes on him, licking and sucking him like she was starving for him. He moans and pants, "Continue," says Pen. He can't think much, but he tries for her. "I woke up humping the sheets or with my erection in hand, thinking -- ahhhh, Pen, yes -- thinking of how much I wanted to sink into you and show you what pleasure is," he says, and it seems like Pen is enacting his dreams.

Because the moment after, she is sinking into him, her wet core enveloping him. They both moan loudly. "Tell me more, Colin," she says, and he can only grab her hips to accompany her while he speaks, his voice broken by his moans. "I tried everything to get away from thoughts of you - bloody hell, Pen - I even went to a brothel but I passed the time on my own, imagining you, -- you're a goddess, wife -- Always you."

And Pen is not jealous, not in the slightest, when she is the only one capable of making him turn into this with just a look. Words become useless as they fall into each other, kissing and moaning their pleasure. "Dreams didn't hold a candle against you," he says between thrusts; they are both close now. "The first time I sank into you, I think you took my soul as your prisoner," he says, utterly wrecked, pen all but screaming her release above him.

He comes a bit later, and Pen is now lying on top of him. "If I took your soul, it's only fair, I think," he finds the courage to look at her through the exhaustion. "You took mine when I met you," she clarifies for him as they kiss, staying like that in that embrace for a very long time.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Keith VS Kagari

The Beast Tempts the Little Rabbit Episode 1

Ep2 | Ending | Epilogue

If I were to head to Jade on an errand to buy books for the owner—

("Enjoy the seasonal flowers in the flower-viewing event!" ...So that's why it's so lively here.)

Every flower I’d seen was rare, and it filled me with excitement.

(There are so many delicious-looking stalls, and I'm starting to get hungry.)

(I've finished the task the owner asked me to do, so maybe I should just enjoy the event as it is.)

Emma: "Ah...!"

Man: "My bad."

Suddenly, a man running from behind collided with me, causing me to stumble.

Emma: "No, I'm the one who should apologize!"

The man nodded and then hurriedly disappeared into a large mansion along a deserted street.

(I think might have been in the way. I need to be more careful.)

(Huh...?)

I suddenly caught a sweet scent, different from that of flowers, and stopped in my tracks.

Curious, I search for the source of the scent and came across a mobile vendor with a sign that read "DORAYAKI" in large letters.

(Dorayaki is a traditional sweet from Kogyoku, right? I remember Owner made it for me once.)

(It feels strange to see it in Jade.)

My stomach grumbled, expressing its hunger.

(I haven't had it in a while, maybe I should have some.)

Emma: "Excuse me, could I have one dorayaki, please?"

…..

???: "One dorayaki, please."

Staff: "Sorry, buddy. The lady there just bought the last one."

Staff: "Come back tomorrow!"

???: "I see, got it."

???: “...Dorayaki.”

???: "...Hm?"

......

Emma: (Why is this happening...)

???: "..."

(Who is this guy?)

Though I was supposed to be enjoying the event, savoring my first dorayaki in a while and strolling through the town,

I now found myself cornered by a man I didn't recognize.

(Could it be that I just don’t remember him...? Despite him being so eye-catching?)

With his fiery red hair tied up, expressionless emerald eyes, and the sweet, yet fleeting scent that enveloped him, there's no way I could forget him.

The man with the emerald eyes, who had been staring at me intently, slowly brought his well-defined face closer.

Emma: "Hey, there's a suspicious person here!"

???: "Suspicious? That's rude. I was just trying to stop you because you started running."

Emma: "Anyone would run if they realize they're being followed."

I try to escape, but he grabs both of my hands and holds them against the wall, blocking my way out.

(Since it’s come to this, I have no choice but to use what Owner taught me. It’s my first time doing it though…)

Silently apologizing in my mind, I kicked the man with the emerald eyes between the legs as hard as I could—or so thought.

???: "If you’re going to do that, create an opening first."

(Huh? This guy is NOT normal.)

In an instant, the man with the emerald eyes tangled his leg around mine, thwarting my movement.

Words of desperation raced through my mind.

???: " Also, your gaze dropped too low. What good does it do to let your opponent know that your next move is to kick them?"

Emma: "S-sorry?"

(No, wait, why am I being coached right now?)

???: "More importantly, did you forget something?"

Emma: "Huh? Forgotten something...?"

???: "What are you doing?"

(That voice...!)

I turn my face towards the familiar, low, calm voice.

Standing there like a godsend is Prince Keith, the first prince of Jade.

Back when he visited Rhodolite as a royal guest while I was serving as a Belle to select the next king,

I remember being comforted and saved many times by his sincere and boundless kindness, despite his lack of confidence.

(But, Prince Keith has a secret that he can't tell anyone...)

Prince Keith cautiously closes the distance between us.

The usual gentle and calm atmosphere fades away, and is replaced by a glare towards the man with the emerald eyes.

Keith: "I heard your voice and came here. You, move away from her."

(I’m saved...)

Emma & ???:

"Prince Keith..."

"Keith, huh?"

(... Huh?)

Keith: "Huh? Kagari? And Emma?!

(Kagari...? Does that mean he knows Prince Keith?)

Keith: "Why are you two in Jade...? No, more importantly, why are you in such a position...?"

Keith looks back and forth between me and the man with the emerald eyes, and suddenly begins waving his hands in a flustered manner.

His cheeks seem to be slightly flushed and… I have a bad feeling about this.

Keith: "I'm sorry, I had no idea you two were acquainted like that, I... I... I've interfered."

(I knew it, he did misunderstand!)

Keith: "Just ignore me like the annoying weed I am."

Keith: "Or rather, I should disappear as soon as possible, right? Uh, um, best of luck to you both!"

Emma: "Wait, Prince Keith, it's a misunderstanding. Please help me!"

Keith: "Huh?"

...

Emma: "I'm sorry for calling you a suspicious person when you were just trying to return my wallet."

In a café—after the waiter finished taking our orders and left, I immediately bowed deeply as if grabbing onto the table.

Kagari: "It's fine, raise your head."

Keith: "Kagari?"

Kagari: "Sorry for trailing you and cornering you against the wall."

Kagari: "If there's ever a next time, I'll call out to you even if you're eating dorayaki."

Emma: "Ah, so that's why you didn't call out immediately. Thank you for your consideration."

Keith: "Even after all that... Emma, you're truly a generous woman. Thank you."

After showing a relieved expression on his face, Prince Keith clears his throat softly.

Keith: "Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, let me properly introduce him."

Keith: "This is Kagari Amagase, the second prince of Kogyoku."

Keith: "Jade and Kogyoku have had exchanges since ancient times, so Kagari and I have known each other since childhood."

Emma: "I see!"

(That's why their interaction seemed so relaxed, like they're comfortable with each other.)

Keith: "If I remember correctly, wasn't it when the king had you brought from Kogyoku to train me, Kagari?"

Kagari: "Yeah. You had spirit, but you were surprisingly weak."

(I've seen Keith training with Licht before, so it's hard to imagine him being weak.)

Keith: "Those hellish training sessions were unique, both then and now."

Keith: "Those memories are nostalgic..."

From his wry smile, I could tell the training had been extremely harsh.

Keith: "In return for the training, I taught Kagari about medicinal herbs."

Kagari: "Kogyoku is always bustling with injured people, so knowledge of medicinal herbs comes in handy."

(Kogyoku is still a country constantly at war.)

(And Kagari is also feared as a demon.)

From appearances alone, you wouldn't guess it, but his expressionless emerald eyes reflect nothing, which made him a bit intimidating.

Keith: "Kagari, this is Emma, a friend I met in Rhodolite."

Keith: "I know it might sound presumptuous for a giant guy like me to call someone like you my friend."

Emma: "If anything, I might be the presumptuous one. But I'm glad you consider me a friend, Prince Keith."

Keith: "R-really? That's... I'm glad."

His shy smile made me smile in return.

(Prince Keith always brings comfort no matter the situation.)

Kagari: "Rhodolite... Ah."

Kagari: "So that sweet scent earlier was the smell of roses. They bloom year-round there."

Kagari: "Cherry blossoms also bloom all year round in Kogyoku. We're like flower buddies."

Emma: "Right, I guess so."

Keith: "Oh, that sounds nice. Since Jade is also abundant in nature, maybe we could join the club?"

Kagari: "If you join, it'll be more like being plant buddies than flower buddies."

Keith: "That suddenly took away the cuteness... It's sad, but I'll decline joining."

(Prince Keith seems quite disappointed...)

Waiter: "Sorry for the wait."

(Wow...)

The waiter leaves, and I glance at the table.

In front of me is a mille-feuille, in front of Prince Keith is a thick galette with various flavors to enjoy,

And in front of Kagari is a stack of dorayaki.

(I thought the "Dorayaki Tower" was just a joke of a name, but it's quite literal.)

Emma: "I never imagined there would be such whimsical sweets in Jade."

Keith: "The pastry chef here is from Kogyoku, you see. They put it on the secret menu at Kagari's request."

Emma: "I see... What a thoughtful gesture."

Kagari: "Thank you for the food."

After saying a silent prayer, Kagari begins to slice the dorayaki with a knife and quietly starts eating.

His flawless eating style mesmerized me, as it maintained a perfect balance even though it looks like it might collapse at any moment.

Kagari: "Princess."

Emma: "Huh? Princess? Did you mean me—ugh!"

Keith: "..."

In the blink of an eye, the dorayaki is stuffed into my mouth.

Despite feeling flustered, the gentle sweetness of the red bean paste spreads in my mouth as I chew.

Kagari: "Which do you prefer, the dorayaki you had from the mobile vendor or this one?"

Emma: "I, I like them both. By the way, the dorayaki I had was also with smooth red bean paste."

Kagari: "......I'll buy some tomorrow."

(Maybe they were sold out, and he couldn't have any.)

(Kagari is... unpredictable in both thought and action.)

Keith: "Dorayaki is highly effective for Kagari, so it's good to remember just in case something happens."

Emma: "Understood. I'll make sure to remember it well."

Keith: "Right. Emma told us why she came to Jade earlier, but what about you, Kagari?"

Kagari: "I'm hunting someone down."

Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 14

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Trapped in your own subconscious, floating aimlessly on a platform without walls or support. At any moment, you could lose your balance and fall.

Walking with determined steps, wet hair falling over your eyes and obscuring your vision. He was about to catch up with you again when you glanced back over your shoulder. The cold pierced through your torn clothes, and the movement of your flesh sent a burning sensation through your wounds, making your legs falter from the pain. Your internal organs vibrated with a visceral discomfort, as if they were being endlessly torn apart, and your vision was distorted by vertigo.

The sound of intense breathing echoed in your ears as you forced your body to keep running—or rather, dragging itself in quick, stumbling steps. The atmosphere around you was nonexistent, a complete darkness, with only the ground faintly illuminated, following your bloodied, cut feet. An endless trail of crimson blood stretched out behind you.

In the distance, you could hear his whispering voice and the sound of his laughter, mixed with the smell of alcohol that overwhelmed your nostrils. But it wasn’t just booze—your body was completely soaked in the flammable liquid. His hand grabbed your throat from behind, enveloping your body in a crushing tension, and his hot breath was close to your face, making your heart race with fear. Your eyes were wide and fixed on the lighter he held. A simple click of the silver object drew a muffled sound from your lips as you accepted it.

You were about to burn.

3 minutes and 40 seconds.

That was the limit your brain could endure without oxygen, suffocating while your body remained submerged in water that covered you entirely. The sides of the bathtub prevented your return to the surface, and you were so close, feeling your lungs fill up more and more. Your ability to comprehend dissolved, and the forced lack of air made your eyes close, surrendering to the weakness of your body.

When you finally regained control of your delirious mind and pushed away the shadow looming over your shoulders, you surfaced back into this plane with a jolt, breaking through the bathtub’s water in a frantic coughing fit. You gulped air into your aching lungs and bruised ribs, pushing your hair back as you recognized the familiar surroundings. The mixture of pink-tinted water spilled over the porcelain, flowing toward the drain just a few inches away.

It was your bathroom.

This was already the fourth episode of the week. If it weren’t for your ability to shock your mind out of the trance with a near-death jolt, I don’t know where you’d be now.

You looked down at the inside of your thighs, mutilated after yesterday morning. The deep pressure of the cuts made with the dagger revealed just how far you were from escaping the previous crisis.

Each day, the visions grew more intense and less unreal, defying your control without any kind of stimulus. This meant you had to get more creative, pushing yourself harder, because you knew that the deeper the pain or agony you inflicted, the quicker your return to reality.

There were 12 shows, interviews, rehearsals, new stage design meetings, studio sessions to compose and work on the new album, trips, flights, private performances, TV programs, and music video shoots. All this within the span of a single month.

Your body was so exhausted that you could barely think for more than two minutes. You were in such an automatic state that you had the fleeting sensation that everything you did was involuntary, as though your body performed the actions on its own, without even asking your brain for permission, so rehearsed had your movements become.

On the way to yet another rehearsal for the band’s new clothing collection, you saw your phone’s screen light up on the passenger seat, but you ignored it and kept your foot pressed on the accelerator. It wasn’t as if you were in any condition to drive, but you didn’t have another option. Even though your hands trembled against the leather steering wheel, you gripped it tightly while blowing cigarette smoke into the air.

Your body consumed nothing but cigarettes and coffee. You were so weak that you couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to eat anything. You had grown to hate the sound of your own chewing and the sensation of food scratching your throat.

Simple things like that seemed to lose their value as the days went by, and with them, their meaning. You could barely taste flavors, smell scents; even textures felt different. Slowly, you felt as though you were detaching from yourself, watching your regression as a mere spectator.

The photoshoot was outdoors. You arrived to find the guys already dressed and chatting among themselves. Some crew members were adjusting the location’s lighting, while the photographer fine-tuned the camera lens. You felt a bit cold and pulled your hoodie tighter around you before stepping forward. But before you could reach them, you froze in place.

Noah was with a girl, someone you didn’t recognize. She was wearing a hoodie and pants from the band’s collection while a woman finished touching up her makeup. She wouldn’t stop talking. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t enough to bother you, even though you didn’t know what was going on, but you were a good liar.

“Don’t do this.” A hand grabbed your arm and subtly pulled you back. Gerard brought you close enough to him that you couldn’t avoid catching the woody scent of his breath. “Don’t think about ruining another rehearsal.”

“As far as I know, I’m part of this too, and that’s my role today.” With a sharp look, you yanked your arm free from his grip.

“No, you’re not.”

“What?” Your brow furrowed immediately as you followed Gerard’s gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the scene ahead.

Noah and the girl were talking. He was showing her something on the tablet, explaining how she should position herself in front of the camera. It was impossible to ignore the deep unease boiling in your stomach, a sensation as if acidic liquid were burning inside.

“She’s the one who’s going to take the photos in your place. Isn’t that great?”

“What do you mean, in my place?” you asked, watching as his shoulders shrugged dismissively, as though he didn’t have the answer.

“Noah came up with the idea, and I agreed. I called a better model, someone with way more charisma than you—which isn’t hard.”

His eyes wavered, scanning you from head to toe with disdain. The way he always looked at you with disapproval and exhaustion, as if you were nothing but a burden, stirred a nearly nostalgic ache.

Sometimes, Gerard reminded you of your mother. She would act similarly when bound to a commitment with you, though it never made her like you any better or stopped her from seeing your existence as a burden throughout your time together.

He was exactly like that.

“I’ve always said your relationship is destroying the band. The less you two do together, the better,” he stated bluntly. “Look at how they communicate—she does what he says, and he’s happy about it. She’s pretty, polite; I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be a great shoot. Maybe he’ll even ask her out after.”

“You’re lying. This wasn’t his idea,” you contested, crossing your arms as you analyzed the scene before you. They did seem well in sync, and for a moment, you saw him smile.

He smiled at her.

“Why would I lie?” Gerard said, drawing your attention back to his impassive face. “You’re going downhill. Your appearance gets worse every day. Not even all that makeup you use can hide it anymore. He’s tired of you, tired of this rotten version of you and the trail of destruction you’ve left in his life. He’s realized he might be capable of attracting a decent woman, and look…”

He paused briefly, as if ensuring he was hitting his mark.

“Slowly, he’s finally replacing you,” he taunted. “And wouldn’t it be interesting if he suddenly realized there are better voices out there than yours and decided to get rid of you once and for all?”

“Are you sure I’d think that’s a bad thing?” you replied, exhaling a tired tone and shrugging with a laugh.

If that was what you’d always wanted since realizing how much harm you caused him, why couldn’t you feel better about it? Instead, it felt like déjà vu—a cutting sensation dragging you back to not so long ago, when everything truly fell apart for the last time, and you felt him slipping through your fingers.

Your saliva turned acidic. Slowly, you took a few steps back. On the sidewalk, you chose to sit and smoke another cigarette while watching the cars move down the street. There was no doubt it was an excellent choice. She was a pretty, friendly girl, brimming with life and seemingly determined, with a maddening passion for things, healthy skin, a beautiful smile. She was simply everything you had never been.

And you couldn’t help but think that someone like her was exactly who should have crossed his path.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Ruffilo’s voice made you lift your head and squint against the light. After a crooked smile, he got the message and took a seat beside you, close enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the same scene.

“It’s not true, is it?” you surprised him with the question before he could say anything. “It wasn’t his idea, was it?”

He took a deep breath and slowly tilted his head to rest it on yours. From this distance, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry."

“Do you agree?” Your question came out innocently as you raised your head to look at him. He let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course not, silly,” he assured, and your tense shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “None of us agreed because we wanted the band to stay together, but you know how Noah is when he gets an idea in his head, and apparently, this one was pretty solid.”

Nothing new under the sun.

You agreed with him on the notion of keeping some distance, but the difference between you and Noah was that your attempts didn’t involve making him feel like garbage in the process. Noah had never hidden his veiled attempts at revenge, and anything that made you feel inferior seemed to give him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Screw it,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Out of all of us, he’s the only one thrilled to keep designing clothing collections we never see a dime from.”

“My opinion isn’t far from yours. Sure, I get why Noah feels gratitude toward Gerard for believing in us when we were nothing, and I acknowledge his role in the band’s success, but that doesn’t make him a fair guy. Honestly, I feel like being under Gerard’s thumb holds us back,” he confessed, loosening the hug and sitting upright. “In almost ten years, we could’ve toured more countries, reached more audiences, done something different instead of the same old thing. We all feel like we work for a band, but we’re not really part of it.”

“Back when we played in a garage, it seemed so much simpler.”

“Because back then, we were a group. Everyone wrote together, everyone listened, everyone had a say in the creative process for the first album—we were a family. You get what I mean?” he said, turning his face toward you slowly. “I can’t blame you or your relationship with Noah because, deep down, we’re all in the same boat.”

“Are we?”

“You’re starting to feel like this isn’t for you anymore, aren’t you? That you’re not doing it out of passion, but because you have to. Like there’s no love left in any of it.”

Your heart tightened as you realized he wasn’t alone in feeling this way—the others felt it too. Ruffilo was absolutely right, and the conversation became even more painful when you remembered the energy your shows used to have compared to now. You weren’t sure if the fans noticed, if they sensed that you’d rather be anywhere but on stage because every day it felt like another piece was stripped away from you.

“We’ll figure it out,” you tried to reassure him, giving his side a light nudge with your elbow. “We just need to get this damn album out of the way and ditch that guy. Once the band’s back in our hands, things will work again, our way—and that includes putting Noah in his place.”

“You’re tough as hell,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of your head and pulling you into another hug. “I envy that.”

Oh, he didn’t need to worry—if there was one thing you weren’t, it was tough.

After rehearsal, a meeting with the band was called to finalize more details about the new album. You were testing sounds and organizing potential tracks with what you already had. He didn’t even greet you when he arrived and took a seat at the table, and honestly, it made no difference. You just wanted to wrap up the conversation and go home.

“Of the tracks we have so far, Violence Against Nature is the only one we haven’t recorded yet. Noah, you need to carve some time out of your ridiculously packed schedule to check this off the list,” you pointed out while scribbling in the notebook on the table.

Everyone at the table exchanged glances, and the guys lowered their heads. Folio ran a hand down his face and muttered something like, "Oh no." Your eyebrow shot up in confusion, and you turned your gaze to Noah, who seemed to be rehearsing his words as he tapped his fingertips on the table.

“We’re not going to record that song together,” he said all at once, directing his attention to the table as you stopped scribbling and looked at him. “I want it to be a collaboration with someone else.”

“We agreed this album wouldn’t have collaborations.”

“Well, I just changed my mind.”

Setting the pen down on the table, you took a deep breath. You hadn’t left home that morning prepared to argue with anyone, least of all him, no matter how much he tested your patience. If this was a test, you’d come out unscathed.

“Since when do we make decisions alone, Noah?” you asked, tilting your head. “Last I checked, we’re not the producers of your solo career. We’re a band, and everything we do or plan to do needs to be discussed!”

“Okay, then let’s discuss it now!” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Nothing annoyed you more than when he acted immature on purpose.

“I didn’t write a song just to be left out of it because you decided this out of sheer spite!”

“It wasn’t a decision made out of spite.”

“Then what’s the reason?”

“I don’t want to sing with you anymore,” he declared so easily that it left you speechless for a few seconds. Your friends sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling as if being in the middle of all this was pure torture. “We’re stuck in the same band because of the contract, but I can’t stand sharing anything with you anymore—be it on stage, in the studio, on a plane while traveling. I can’t even bear the sound of your voice. Is that what you wanted to hear? It’ll be three collaborations; it won’t be that bad. You haven’t been into all this for a long time anyway…”

Maybe you’d felt annoyed at him before or had been angry after your countless arguments, but you’d never truly felt rage toward Noah—not until now. You were just as tired as everyone else, which was evident in everyone’s faces, but even in a moment like this, he couldn’t think of anything but himself.

It wasn’t as if he were clueless. He knew how important the band was to you. He knew your poor performance was never intentional. You never agreed with the label, never wanted to be in this environment controlled by that man as if you were a puppet. You never wanted to be like Noah.

But that never lessened your love for the band. You just wanted it back and were working tirelessly to make that happen, and he was discarding you.

Placing a firm hand on the table, you rose carefully, a brief vertigo nearly forcing you to sit back down, but you held steady. Every step you took toward him felt like the ground vibrated under your feet, your veins pulsing with heated anger. In response, he made a point of not breaking eye contact. Slowly, you leaned in, bringing yourself level with his height while he sat. Noah took a deep breath, seemingly pushing his limits to keep his eyes locked on yours without assessing the rest of your face now so close.

“Fine, you can have three, four, even ten collaborations if you want, sweetheart,” you assured him with a nod, offering a restrained smile that quickly faded into a serious expression. “But you’ll have to write your own songs for them.”

“What? Everything you’ve written belongs to the band!” he snapped, leaning closer.

“Oh, now you want to talk like a band member? Look at this, guys!” You laughed, never breaking eye contact. “Nothing is officially produced or handed over to the label yet; they all still belong to me. So, if you’re really better than everyone here and ready to work alone, it’s simple: write.”

You had just played a dirty card against him.

Bad Omens didn’t have time to rewrite any songs, especially not Noah, who hadn’t been able to create anything in ages. He was at your mercy, and just for his arrogance, you were going to watch his collaboration idea go down the drain until he crawled back with an apology.

It might not have been the wisest move, and you might have been just as immature as him, but today, you weren’t feeling particularly creative.

You were, however, ready to make him have as long and miserable a night as yours when you turned your back and finally left the studio with your friends.

In your room, the dim light reigned, but you hadn’t bothered to turn it off since you arrived and settled on the bed. Propped up against the satin pillow, you were forcing raw chocolate cake batter down your throat, chasing it with sips of pure gin, as you reflected on life.

Awful.

Maybe you shouldn’t think at all.

Just when you thought you were making progress, something always managed to pull you back.

Not even those pathetic soap opera protagonists are as unlucky as you.

Your irritating thoughts were interrupted by the glare of your phone lighting up the bedspread. From a distance, you noticed two messages had come in. You took another sip of the drink and exhaled with a hint of disgust as you leaned over to grab the device.

When your eyes landed on the message in the notification bar, your entire body froze from head to toe.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

You clutched the phone tightly against your chest as your breathing became erratic. When yet another message arrived, the device vibrating against your body, you hurled it against the wall with a piercing scream that rattled your throat and ended in a dry, agonizing whimper.

This was impossible.

You were losing your mind.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[nrdmssgs]

Little things, they do 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) (headcannons)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Alex, Soap, König) here

Little things, they do, that get you every time. Silly, warm, heart-melting, wholesome things.

Captain John Price

Knuckle kisses. That's it.

Praises you not only when you succeed, but also when you fail. “I know, you tried so hard, love. This doesn't make you lesser. You don't have to prove anything to me. I'm proud of you. You're enough.”

Compliments you at the most random times. You've just woken up with an absolute mess on your head, or you walk around the house in old faded sweatpants and a dirty T-shirt because the rest of the clothes are being washed? John takes your hand, brings it to his lips and whispers "You are incredibly beautiful." or “How did an old git like me ended up with the most gorgeous, hottest  human being out there?”

He has this habit of going behind your back and leaning close to your very ear while telling you something. Maybe he just likes to feel you close and uses it as an excuse, maybe he wants to “envelop” you in a way, hide you from the whole world, sharing his knowledge, feeling, how interested you are in a topic.

One of those people to actually use paper and envelopes, that some hotel still provide their rooms with. You get these long 3-5 page letters from different corners of earth every now and then. They can be absolutely platonic - he can literally describe, what he's seen or overheard on the streets lately or rant about how he wants to hear seabirds voices, but they are interrupted by the unceasing roar of engines and roadworks here… But you see it: every line screams “I love you. I freaking love you so much, it's almost 4 am here, and I'm still wide awake, because I need to write to you, to communicate in any way that will be safe for you.” 

Simon Ghost Riley

He is no stranger to triggered stress or panic. So if you have any phobia, and he finds out about it - he starts protecting you from its triggers. Let's say, you're scared of spiders and scorpions. Even a picture of one can absolutely freak you out. Simon goes above and beyond to shield you from any type of appearance of these creatures in your life. In summer, he'll escort and even tiniest spider out of your apartment, before you see it.

He even shares a googledoc with trigger warning time codes for every piece of media, you wanted to see. Even if it's a long series - he just checks every episode of it on a fast rewind and writes you, if it's fully safe to watch or not. 

Ghost has a wealth of experience in dealing with insomnia and is willing to help you, if you come across this issue. Just don't hesitate to ask - he is ready to spend all the night helping you out. Will definitely start with pressing your back to his chest and guiding you through a breathing exercise.

If you had a bad day and dropped him a message - he`d surely call you as soon as he can to talk you through everything that happened and soothe you. 

“I`m always there for you, you know?” “I know, Simon…” “No, thats not the way, we do that.” “...” “Come on. Say it.” “I remember, ok?” “Say. it. I need you say it out loud.” “You are always there for me, no matter what.” “And?” “... and I can call or text you any time and you'll reach back asap.” “Good job. I'll call you again before you go to sleep.”

Despite his ascetic way of life, he likes nice things and gradually accustoms you to the same preferences. 

It all starts with tea. One day, you go grocery shopping together. You walk between the rows of shelves while Simon stays by your cart. Returning to the cart, you find him skeptically examining the box of tea you dropped into the cart earlier. "What is this?" "It's tea, Simon, stop pretending you can't read." Ghosts gaze eloquently demonstrates his attitude towards this product. "It's trash." He pulls out a simple but elegant box from the top shelf. "This is tea." You try to convince him that with the money spent on that "good" box, you could drink tea all year, but he is relentless. Simon ends up buying the tea himself and brewing it at your place. When you first try it and roll your eyes in pleasure - he smiles contentedly. “Told you.”

Kyle Gaz Garrick

“Babe this is delicious, wanna try it?” - say yes and firstly he will kiss you. You absolutely need to try that ice cream, his tongue is just a nice bonus. Ofc shares his food with you afterward.

One of the most supportive human beings out there. Encourages every your hobby, hella proud of you and not shy to demonstrate it. “Have you heard her singing? RNs got a voice of a songbird!” “Kyle, please, I just went to a few vocal lessons and learned like… 2 songs.” “Those are my favorite ones from now on, love.”

If you work from home, he'll walk into your room randomly (but only when he is 100% sure, you're not on the call), sit beside you and just stare silently at you. Ask him, what's up, and he'll give you a quick kiss on the forehead and walk away grinning. 

Slow dances with you on streets, when you two pass by street musicians. Doesn't care if everybody looking, even if someone pulls out a phone and starts filming this wholesome scene. It's only you in Kyles hands, that matter right now to him. 

If you have a pet - he definitely becomes its new dad. When Kyle is around - your four-legged friend absolutely forgets about your existence, because Gaz is an expert in best scratches!

By the way, your pets birthday is now Kyles official holiday!

[itacats]

In His Steady Hands

FT: Soap x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, dystonia, self-doubt, and mild self-inflicted injury (hand injury from hitting a mirror).

SUM: When an unexpected gala invitation honoring Soap forces you to confront some of your deepest fears, the night becomes more than just a social event—it’s a battle against the overwhelming weight of stress and a fight against your body. As tensions rise and emotions spiral, will your connection with Soap be enough to steady your frayed nerves, or will it only deepen the cracks within?

A/N: This one got heavy, but it’s all about facing fears and leaning on those who care. Soap’s got your back, promise! 🌟💔 Also inspired my me attacking a tree at my friend's house during an episode and fucking up my hand.👌

In His Steady Hands Masterlist

Part 4: The Gala

As you get home from an early morning class, you find a rather ornate envelope in your pile of mail. The invitation is as unexpected as it is elegant: a glossy card embossed with gold lettering, the kind that promises a night of opulence. It’s for a charity gala, a glittering affair meant to honor Soap’s military service. The moment you read his name printed in bold letters, a knot tightens in your stomach. You can almost hear the echoes of your own hesitation before the words even sink in.

You sit there, card in hand, thumb tracing over the ornate lettering. The event is prestigious, glamorous—a world that feels so far removed from the quiet, cautious life you’ve carefully cultivated. And yet, the pressure to be there, to show up for Soap, weighs on you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The invitation seems to pulse with expectations, and your mind races through every possible outcome, every imagined scenario.

What if the crowd overwhelms you? What if your symptoms flare up in front of all those established people? What if you can’t keep it together? The questions spiral, each one louder than the last, drowning out any trace of calm. The idea of being in such a public space, under the bright lights, surrounded by strangers who will surely notice every twitch, every spasm—it feels almost unbearable.

But then you remember Soap. His unwavering kindness, his willingness to understand, to help. He’s invited you because he wants you there, and something deep inside stirs at the thought of supporting him the way he’s supported you. Despite the gnawing anxiety clawing at the edges of your mind, you realize you don’t want to miss this. You don’t want to let your fears hold you back from something that could be meaningful—for both of you.

A sudden flicker of bravery rises in you, like a spark catching fire. You can do this. You will do this.

You press your hand against your chest, as if trying to steady your heart, and, without another moment of hesitation, you scrawl your name on the RSVP card.

The decision feels monumental. It’s not just about attending an event; it’s about confronting your fears, about stepping outside the boundaries of your own limitations. And even though the weight of the decision lingers like a heavy cloak, a strange sense of pride blooms in your chest. You’re doing something—something for yourself, and for him.

As you drop the card into the envelope, sealing it with a soft sigh, you can’t shake the feeling that this is a turning point. A moment where you choose to face the unknown, to take a step toward something greater than your fear.

This gala—this night—will be more than just a fancy event. It will be a test, a challenge, and perhaps, a chance for something deeper. Something real.

The night of the gala dawns, and it’s everything you expected—and more. The grand ballroom is a dizzying vision of luxury: golden chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, their light catching the crystal glasses that sparkle on every table below. Everywhere you look, the world shimmers. Guests in elegant attire glide past, the soft murmur of conversation rising and falling like the tide. But despite the beauty of it all, a sense of unease tightens around you, creeping in the shadows of the extravagance.

The ceiling above is a canopy of stars, twinkling in hues of silver and gold, a visual marvel that should be awe-inspiring. But instead, it feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on you, suffocating in the elegance of the moment. The crowd around you feels like a maze you can’t escape, the noise too loud, the air too thick. The walls of the room close in slowly, and each passing second stretches longer than the last. The ground beneath your feet seems unsteady, as if the floor itself is shifting with every step you take.

The realization hits you with a sharp jolt: the excitement, the beauty, the people, the pressure of fitting in with a crowd you have no place being a part of—it’s all too much. A wave of dizziness crashes over you, spinning your mind and body into chaos. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, erratic and uncontrolled. You don’t know how to steady yourself; everything feels wrong. The faces around you blur, their conversations a muddled hum, and suddenly, the space feels like a cage you can’t escape.

The gala continues to swirl around you, dazzling but oppressive. You try to breathe through the weight of it, but the air feels suffocating, heavy with polished conversation and the clink of champagne glasses. The once beautiful chandelier now seems to loom overhead, its light too bright, too harsh. The crowd’s laughter and applause echoes through the space, amplifying the tightness in your chest.

Panic rises, sudden and unrelenting. Your thoughts scatter, heart racing as though the world itself is speeding up and you can’t keep up. With every step, your legs feel less steady, almost like they're filled with cotton or sand or a mixture of both. You can’t breathe, can’t think. The walls close in, and before you realize it, your feet carry you toward the bathroom in a hasty, disjointed motion.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and for a moment, you feel the cool isolation of the space settle around you. You place your hands on the edge of the sink, spasming fingers embarrassing the cold from the smooth porcelain, grounding yourself against the whirlpool of panic threatening to pull you under. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead only seem to highlight how far out of place you feel. You want to stay calm, to breathe, but the spinning in your head won’t stop, and your heartbeat echoes loudly in your ears. You’re dizzy, lightheaded, and overwhelmed by the chaotic, beautiful world you just fled.

And then, it happens. A sudden, involuntary spasm jerks through your arm. Before you can stop it, your fist clenches tight, the force of it jarring through your entire body. The movement is so sudden and uncontrollable, it happens in an instant—your hand slamming into the mirror with a loud crack.

The sound is sharp and final, echoing in the small room. For a split second, everything goes still. Your hand is pressed against the now-cracked surface of the mirror, the jagged lines spider-webbing out from the point of impact. Your reflection wavers as your vision blurs, and your chest tightens in a mixture of panic and disbelief. The dizziness you’d been fighting suddenly escalates, and your body trembles, a mix of anxiety and frustration flooding through you.

Great, you think. Just great. The mirror now reflects a shattered image of you, just as you feel shattered inside. You want to disappear, to run and hide, but you can't. You can't hide from this. Afterall, how do you hide from yourself?

You stagger backward, pulling your hand away from the mirror—fresh bruises blossoming on your knuckles are highlighted with cuts from the glass. You quickly wipe at the tears that have already started to form, the tremors are starting to set in more noticeably now, but you try to control them, to make them stop.

Just as you're about to turn away from the mirror, Soap’s voice reaches you from behind the door. The concern that falls from his lips snaps you out of your daze, and your pulse spikes again. You don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to know. But before you can react, the door opens more, revealing Soap standing there, his face drawn with concern.

He freezes for a moment, taking in the cracked mirror, the shaky and uncontrolled way your body moves, and the tension that hangs in the air. His eyes soften as he steps into the room. “Hey,” he says gently, his voice full of concern but also patience. “You alright?”

God, you were getting tired of hearing that–people’s are you okays were almost all you heard when they saw you like this.

You swallow hard, heart racing. You want to say something, to explain what’s happening, but the words aren’t there—at least, not the ones you want to say. You know he doesn’t understand this battle, this war inside you that nobody else can see. The look in his eyes, though compassionate, stirs something in you that feels like shame. You can’t explain this—you don’t even understand it yourself. Instead, you shake your head, a motion that feels weak even to you. “I— I’m fine,” you manage to choke out—hiding your hand in the process, but it’s a lie. You’re far from fine. You feel as though the world is slipping further away, and you’re struggling to keep up.

Soap watches you for a long beat, and something flickers across his face—confusion, concern, maybe even a little fear, but there’s no judgment. No pity. He takes a small step toward you, close enough to be there, but not too close to overwhelm. “You sure?” he asks again, his voice soft but insistent, like he’s not willing to let you shut him out.

You don’t know how to answer him. All you can do is nod, though the action feels empty. You don’t want to burden him, to drag him into this confusion that feels like it’s consuming you.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, the tremors in your hands flare again, sharper this time. Your knees threaten to buckle, and your breath catches in your throat. Soap sees the shift immediately. “Hey, sit down,” he says, moving closer to steady you. His voice is calm, but there’s a firmness to it, as though he’s not going to let you fall apart alone.

Without a word, you pull away, stepping past him and into the hallway. Your exit feels like a retreat, and the tension lingers, thick and heavy between you. You can hear him calling your name faintly, but you don’t stop. The echo of his voice seems to chase you down the hall, but the space between you stretches like an endless chasm while tears begin to stain your face.

As you disappear into the crowd again, the air seems to crackle with the weight of what just happened. The tension between you both hangs like a fog, and the guilt settles like a stone in your stomach. You wonder, fleetingly, if this will be the moment that changes everything between you. As if it hasn’t already.

Want to see what's up next? Click here!

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 5.4 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Basically, it's a rough night. Prompt: You promissed you'd get that moonflower, remember? This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 20: Bad Moon Rising

November 22nd, 1976 - Monday (Full Moon)

Kless had kept his promise, 3 days ago you had gotten a package from him, an old brown owl had delivered it, biting you sharply when you tried to take it from his beak, he flew off right after, just as you brought your finger to your mouth to try and lick the wound clean. You opened the thick envelope and found a small notebook –muggle by the looks of it– with an interesting black and white pattern and Damocles Belby’s name on a small square at the front. You opened it and started looking through hundreds of notes on werewolves. On the kind of food they ate, the effects it had on them and more. If you thought your research had been thorough, his was pretty much the bible of werewolves. He had also added a very in-depth research on the Moonflower near the end of the notebook.

A note fell from it as you flipped the pages: Your turn.

You stared at the information a little longer, entering an almost hyper-focused mode as you tried to learn a bit more about the Moonflower so you’d be faster to find it, that you barely realised someone had sat next to you until they spoke. 

“What are you looking at luv?” Remus asked as he peered through his spot to look at the notebook you had on your hands. 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you realised who the person sitting in front of you was. You froze, you couldn’t tell him it was a potions project, he was your godricdamn partner in that class. Freaking James Potter, you thought. “It’s uh… Kless lent me his notes for my herbology project.” 

“Kless?” Remus asked with a frown. 

“Damocles Belby, from 7th,” You said, raising the notebook so he could see the cover.

“Damocles?” Remus repeated as if he was still trying to remember who he was, “When did you even befriend him?”  

“It was kind of an accident,” you told him, and that wasn’t a lie, “he was nice enough to help me pick up my stuff when… It doesn’t matter, actually.” 

He then pulled the notebook down a little “I’ve seen that flower,” he told you, pointing at the drawing of the Moonflower. 

“Really? Where?” You asked excitedly. 

“Grows in the forbidden forest.” 

“Thought it wasn’t a good place for humans,” you tsked. 

“Yeah, that’s how I found out,” he sassed back. 

You shook your head with a smile as you stared at him “So it grows there?” 

Remus nodded, “Sirius picked it up once, the idiot ate it and had this pretty heavy trip.” 

“He did?” You asked, eyebrows raised “Where?” 

“On a small glade, they’re common on glades,” he explained “Where they can bask in moonlight.” 

“Oh that’s super useful actually!” you said with a smile. 

He narrowed his eyes at you “You wouldn’t be thinking of getting some, right? You know how dangerous the Forbidden Forest is.” 

“Me? That’s ridiculous!” You said, pitch a little higher than normal. “I know it’s no place for humans,” you said with a little nod, managing to level your tone “It’s all for investigation,” you added in the end with a little smile. 

Remus looked at you, a little tilt in his head before adding “You wouldn’t do anything that stupid.”

You nodded lips closed tightly, taking a deep breath as you did. Remus was about to say something else, but Sirius arrived, planting a kiss on your cheek and he completely forgot about it. The moon was close, and seeing him be so domestic with you just made him jealous and of the two of you, to his dismay. 

“What you up to Starshine?” Sirius asked as he took a seat beside you. 

You closed the notebook “Just studying,” you said, “got some notes borrowed and I’m reading through them,” Sirius hummed in response and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He was clingy today, “rough day?” 

“A little,” he whispered. 

Remus turned to the side and pulled out a piece of parchment, writing something down on it before turning it into a paper plane and sending it off. Sirius, still with his arms around you, unwrapped one of his arms ever so slightly and pointed at the paper “Who is that for?”   

“Alice,” Remus answered, a little more bitterly than he intended to. 

“Oh,” Sirius said simply before changing the topic altogether. 

Fast forward to now, you were already preparing for your little adventure. You had actually told Marlene you were sneaking out into the library, so the girls didn’t worry about you not being back at the dorms on time. Marlene wouldn’t ask too many questions which is why you’d decided to tell her instead of Mary or even Lily. 

You had been hiding in the girls’ bathroom when Myrtle popped her head out from the toilet “Someone’s sneaking out of school today,” she said in a sing-song voice. She wasn’t being loud like she was normally, which you were thankful for. Inviting her to the Halloween Party had been a good idea after all. 

“I need to get something from the forbidden forest.” You said, sitting over one of the toilets and closing the door. 

“Tonight’s a dangerous night,” She told you, “You wouldn’t want to end up like me.”

You raised an eyebrow “Would you rather I stay here and chat with you all night?”

She shrugged “It’d certainly be safer,” she said with a little nod. 

“Unfortunately I can’t, I need this thing to help my friend.” 

She hummed “Of course, the brave (Y/N) would risk her life for a friend.” 

You scoffed, “I’m not risking my life.”

“Of course, because the Forbidden Forest is one of the safest places in the castle,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. 

You huffed in response, “You’re not going to deter me from going.” 

She looked at you innocently “I’d never dream of such a thing.” She seemed to think for a second and puffed her chest as if taking a deep breath -a rather silly move for a ghost- “Just be careful… you’re not the only one roaming outside of the castle tonight,” she said before disappearing dramatically. 

You stared at the place she had gone to before checking the pocket watch. It was time, you took a deep breath and cast a disillusionment charm around you. Carefully opening the door of the stall before walking outside of the bathrooms. Once there, you looked to both sides, making sure there was nobody around before starting to walk the path you had carefully traced as you planned your outing. 

Once you reached the Quad, you pulled your broom from under a couple of dried leaves that you’d use to hide it and took off towards the forest. You landed close to the spot where you had found Fang and threw the broom into the ground. You stood there, breathing in the natural scents of the pine trees. The forest was dark, you hadn’t taken any lanterns along since you did not want to be spotted, which is why you took some time to let your eyes adjust as much as possible. You looked up at the sky, it was still cloudy and the moon wasn’t out yet either so you turned back to look at the forest and smiled, it looked as dangerous as alluring. 

You perked your ears, silence. 

Your turn, you remembered Kless’s note, and finally walked inside. Casting a footstep silencing spell to make sure the crunch under the leaves was unnoticeable.  

The disillusionment charm still cloaked you, rendering you invisible as you navigated through the dense forest. You moved slowly, cautiously, looking carefully through the trees attempting to find a clearing. That’s when you heard something behind you, you spun around, alarmed, trying to identify the source. 

Two powerful arms encircled you. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of ashy blond curls but it was the smell that gave him away, a thick cologne that would smell nice if it wasn’t for the fact that he had threatened you while wearing it - Evan Rosier. 

You attempted to bite his hand, but he only pressed it harder as two other figures appeared from the trees. "Well, well, look who we have here," Crouch sneered, a wicked smile on his face. "Out of the castle and at this hour?”

Your breath quickened as you assessed the situation. Evan's grip was relentless, he was grabbing you with such force you were sure it would leave a bruise, and you could barely move your hand toward your wand, still concealed in your pocket. You could feel his chest behind you, firm and muscly –like James’– but Evan had you pressed against him, squishing you so tightly that you wanted nothing more than to push him off, but you couldn’t, your strength was no match.

“Finite incantatem,” Barty said, waving his hand over you and making you completely visible. 

“She’s all warm and snuggly, perhaps she’s out to snog her boyfriends,” Mulciber said bitterly. 

“Are you?” Barty asked with a menacing grin. 

Evan loosened his grip just a little and that allowed you to nod, “They’re waiting for me,” you lied, voice coming out muffled from Evan’s hand, still over your mouth. 

Barty chuckled in response, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Deceptive little thing," he taunted. "Didn't you say you saw them at the castle, Severus?"

A final figure came from the shadows “I did.” 

“Snape,” you said with a gulp, he was probably the only person you’d be able to reason with, “I’m not looking for trouble–“ 

“Shut it!” Evan cut you off, pressing his fingers to your jaw and jerking your head back. Your jaw clenching so tight you feared you may break a tooth.

You gulped, nor being able to hold a straight face and pulling a grimace instead, brows furrowed and breath heavy. But you did as told, extending your hand towards your pocket as you attempted to distract them. When you finally managed to reach the edge of your wand, you pointed it towards the tallest figure, and whispered “Opugno.” Suddenly the leaves on the floor started to move in circles and surrounded the boy, you smiled and pointed your wand straight to Barty but he was faster to notice your intentions “Accio dragon scale wand,” he said, and your wand pulled out of your pocket, flying straight towards his hands. 

“Were you trying to distract us?” He said, waving your wand in the air, you looked to the side, breath heavy as you tried to think of ways to escape. 

“Finite incantatem,” Severus said as he pointed his wand towards Muciber, who had been scraped by sharp rocks and leaves from the forest’s floor.

You huffed and tried to wiggle out of Evan’s grasp, Barty laughed again, “Well, I might have not been able to throw you off your broom back at the game, but you’re out of luck now. I see no protection charms around.” 

You looked at him as realisation hit “The jerking of my broom… It was you!” Barty licked his lips before bowing sardonically as he did, he was proud, “What… what protection charm?”

Barty raised an eyebrow “You didn’t know?” You shook your head, trying to think of what he could be referring to “Your stupid little bow.” 

Confusion swept over you, and you felt Evan's grip slightly loosened, he had been too interested in the conversation. Seizing the opportunity, you elbowed him sharply in the gut and made a run for it. However, you felt a sharp, searing pain in your back and collapsed to the ground, trembling. BIood filled your mouth, and you realised you’d parted your lip.

Barty caught up with you shortly after, tsking disapprovingly as he stared at you from above “Did you really think you could run from us? With no wand?!?” he mocked. Crouching beside you as he stared, tilting his head just a little and smiling when he noticed you tried to push yourself up and failed. “I’ve heard you like inviting ghosts to parties.” 

You turned your head to him “What are you–” 

Evan smiled, he was still standing but managed to guess Barty’s thoughts “How about a little tour in the Shrieking Shack?” 

“The– the Shrieking Shack?” asked Snape, he had no problem with making you suffer, but he did not want to murder you “I doubt it’s–“ 

“Shut up Severus, we’ll throw you in as well,” Barty said, snapping towards the boy before it turned to you again “Let’s see if she really is as brave as she claims,” he added as he pulled you up, lounging you across his shoulder, the carelessness of the action made the pain in your back worse, causing you to let out an involuntary cry. Which only got a satisfied laugh from Crouch. 

You tried to fight back, kicking and screaming but Mulciber cast a silencing spell over you. You were still screaming, it was just that no one could hear you. In a second Barty apparated you right in front of the house, leaving you disoriented, and you felt a sharp pain on your leg, probably from splinching, all of which just made you even more vulnerable. How does he even know how to do that? you wondered, still fighting to let yourself free. 

Mulciber opened the door as Barty tossed you inside, “How’s that for a creative prank?” he said as you struggled to your feet and tried lunging yourself forward. Mulciber punched you in the stomach –same place the quaffle had hit merely days ago– and it was enough to send you back to the floor, gasping for air. 

“Poor thing,” he mocked. “She won’t be able to sleep ever again after surviving the horrors of the most haunted house in England. Welcome to our country darling!” He said before closing the door. By the time you managed to get up, they were already locking the door from the outside.

You roared, rage filling every single bit of your body as you banged the door repeatedly, it was useless, their stupid silencing spell made your cries inaudible. You could hear their laughs though, mocking as they saw your futile attempts.

“Just accept your fate darling,” said Evan “If I were you I would start thinking of ways to survive.” 

You pounded the door one last time, your fist throbbing in pain from the sheer force you had used, and finally dropped back to the ground, screaming one last time before tears started running down your cheeks. You felt humiliated and powerless, seething with anger at the realisation that you wouldn’t be able to harvest the moonflower either, your palms were scraped, your leg hurt like a bitch, your back was still in pain from whatever hex they had used and yet, you could feel nothing but rage.

You weren’t afraid of the Shrieking Shack’s ghostly reputation. It might have looked run down and had scratches all over, but you knew the ghosts wouldn’t do much other than attempt to scare you. Regardless, you approached the old fireplace and squinted your eyes until you found an old poker, it was made of iron, great against spirits and even better at cranking open doors. You used it to strike the door repeatedly, still trying to open it when you heard a creak, probably coming from one of the rooms. You gulped, if there was a door, there was a way out, and if there was a way out, you could still get out of this place and harvest the flower. At least that way your outing wouldn’t have been useless. 

You took a deep breath, deciding to make use of the spell you had had and walking up the staircase, you heard muffled voices from the other side of the door of the rooms and you stood there, quietly, trying to make out anything from what they were saying, but your attempts were futile, the walls were thick, no matter how you tried, it was all incoherent mumbling. 

You heard the door creak again. Ghosts did not normally use doors, so whatever was on the other side, had to be corporeal, you tightened your grip on the iron poker, your knuckles white from the force you were using. And after a couple of seconds, you kicked the door open, the poker held high, ready to beat the hell out of whatever or whoever you found on the other side. 

But when the door finally opened wide, what you found on the other side shocked you, “Remus,” you mouthed, a relieved sigh leaving your body, the iron poker falling to the ground with a rather loud clang as you stared at the boy. He covered the distance between the two of you in seconds and wrapped his hands around your face worriedly, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek as he stared at your dishevelled stance. The dirt sticking to your face and your parted lip made it evident that you had been through a lot that night. You relaxed into his warm hands almost immediately, the bruise from Evan’s rough grip already starting to show on your jaw and neck. 

“What happened?” he asked as he placed a piece of your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the state you were in, his hands warm and caring in comparison with Evan’s, you felt safe, so safe and he so worried that the two of you had forgotten the real reason you had ended up in the same place altogether. Remus was completely focused on you, he wanted, no, he needed to comfort you. 

“Barty,” you said, wincing when no sound came out of your mouth, he instantly realised you’d been charmed and took out his wand.

“Finite incantatem,” he said softly. 

“Barty,” you repeated, voice a little raspy from how much you had screamed earlier, even if no one had heard you. You wanted to crumble into his arms and cry like a baby, “I was trying to harvest the Moonflower because…” Remus stared at you in disbelief, ready to scold you when you stumbled into your words “…today is full moon.” 

Remus’ eyes opened wide and he put a huge distance between the two of you in seconds. You felt cold at the lack of warmth his body had brought and winced, but you instantly understood why he’d done it. You stood straighter, you were in danger, and for the third time in the night, you had to find a way to survive. 

“You have to go,” he said sternly “This place isn’t safe, you–“ 

“–You think I don’t know?” You spat, a little annoyed, your tiredness translating into annoyance as you leaned down to pick up the iron poker and walked towards the window, trying to crank it open. Your arms and hands hurt from the force you were using, the struggles from the night taking a toll on your body. Maybe hitting and fighting Barty hadn’t been such a good idea –No, hitting Barty is always a good idea, you thought as you gave another sharp swing toward the window.

Remus looked at you, confusion sipping into his head. Why are you trying to get out? What are you even– “You know,” he said finally with a gulp, had Sirius told you? he wondered bitterly.

You turn to him, sighing and closing your eyes for a moment, “I’m sorry Remus, I didn’t mean to pry, I just–“ 

“-how long?” he interrupted you, voice so dry you almost cringed.

“The last full moon.” you admitted shutting your eyes for a second before turning back to him to try to explain, “When we were at the infirmary together, it was because I was reading that stupid spicy werewolf novel; all the inconsistencies just made sense…” 

He gulped again, she guessed, of course, she guessed. He should’ve expected it, you were brilliant after all. He felt slightly relieved when he realised no one had told you, but it quickly turned into guilt since he hadn’t done it either.

“I wanted to tell you,” he admitted. 

You shook your head “We met months ago Remus, most of your friends don’t know either.”

“But I still wanted to tell you,” he emphasised the last bit, “you wouldn’t be here if I had.” 

“I probably would,” you said, still banging harshly at the windows. “FUCK!” you shouted, launching the metal poker to the window distressed, it fell gracelessly to the ground. No matter how hard you tried they didn’t even budge. “How long do we have?” you asked with a tired sight. 

“Minutes, probably,” he said bitterly “Where’s your wand?” 

“The Slytherins took it,” you responded. He instantly threw you his wand, you caught it with ease. 

You went for the door “alohomora,” you whispered, nothing happened. 

“It closes from the outside.” He explained. You sighed again. “How much did you research about my condition? You know defence spells?” 

“There are no defence spells against werewolves Remus, they’re attack spells, murder spells.” He knew, he just didn’t wanna call them that. 

“So you know them?” he said, ignoring your remark. 

“No! I ripped the page out and burned it,” you admitted. 

He stared at you angrily “Well, that was bIoody stupid on your part!” 

You stared at him in disbelief “Yeah, because learning how to murder my best friend was the clever thing to do!” 

“YES! When your best friend’s a monster, then YES!” 

You frowned when he said that, the way he perceived himself hurting your very soul “Remus…” He groaned and fell to the ground, “Remus!” You ran towards him but he placed his hand in the air, open palm facing you, a warning. 

He looked up at you, eyes glossy, he had hoped the boys would be here before it started “Hide!” he roared, voice cracking “If I get too close, please promise you will defend yourself.” 

You shook your head, eyes welling with tears “I’m not gonna hurt you, Remus.” 

“Please!” he pleaded. 

“If it’s either you or me, then it’s not gonna be you,” you said simply.

He cried out, his eyes turning golden, his teeth growing “Don’t be so fucking stubborn and bomb the shit out of me.” 

That’s it, you thought and tightened your grip around his wand, you stood right in front of him, pointing the wand to the door “Bombarda!” you shouted, Remus’ wand followed your command as if it had been your own. Once the spell reached the door   you screamed again “Protego.” The force field of the spell protected both you and Remus, who was still crouching and crying as his body continued to transform. 

Once the fire was gone, and the dust settled you realised the spell worked, the big metal door was hanging from one of its hinges. You turned around, giving one last look at poor shrieking Remus and ran for it. But the more you ran, the more stress filled your mind. You knew this tunnel, you’d been there before. In your dreams.

And then there it was, the howl that had been haunting you since your very first week, the sound of paws and claws clashing against the stone. You knew this all too well, you were in your nightmare, except this time, it was real. All the warnings you’d gotten filled your mind. The fox was finally in danger. 

Remus’ strides were even faster as a wolf, and he caught up with you with ease. You raked your brain for a spell that wouldn’t hurt him too much “I’m sorry Remus,” you said with a little frown before pointing his own wand against him “Stupefy!” you roared, the force of the spell enough to push him back a couple of metres. You swallowed thickly as you saw him scramble back to his feet, and crouched down through the thick roots near the end of the tunnel. 

There road was now going upwards, you had to claw your way up, digging your nails on the dirt until you managed to reach the light, you were sure you’d broken one, the sharp pain almost invisible as adrenaline filled your body. As you stood up, you realised exactly where you were “The Whomping Willow,” you whispered as you stared. An idea quickly forming in your head. 

While the hit from one of the branches would probably hurt the wolf, it wouldn’t kill him, not like spells would. So you crouched near the entrance, waiting for it, when you saw its snout, you ran to where you assumed the branches of the Willow reached. If you calculated it wrong, you’d be dеad in seconds, so you took a deep breath, hoping you had been smart enough to figure this one out. 

When the wolf emerged from the tunnel, you finally managed to dimension it. It was huge, far larger than your friend. It stared at you, golden eyes sizing you up. You could almost swear the animal smiled as he gave a slow step towards you. He knew there was no place for you to run where he wouldn’t catch you. 

You looked up at the willow, trying to keep your breath steady as you turned your eyes back to the menacing creature. You looked up at the branches one last time, Remus would kill you if he saw what you were trying to do, “Hey! You stupid beast!” you screamed, arms open as if the wolf didn’t already have his eyes glued to your figure “Why don’t come at me huh? What are you waiting for?” you taunted. 

You saw the Willow pull one of its branches and you smiled, “Scared your little witch?” You taunted again.

3…2…1… The wolf lunged at you, and you threw yourself to the side, rolling about half a metre on the ground. At the same time, the  Whomping Willow lunged its branch straight against your previous position, effectively launching the wolf to the side. You heard a crack and the wolf howled, you winced, hoping the sharp hit hadn’t hurt Remus too much. Unfortunately, the willow had thrown the wolf in between you and the castle, which meant: it was no longer an option to run towards it. That left only one escape route, you turned to look at the dark forest again. The wolf was still trying to get up. 

It might have been naive hope, but you thought that perhaps, you could lose the wolf in the forest. So, for the second time that night, you ran straight towards the most dangerous place in the entire school. 

The darkness engulfed you as you sprinted through the woods, no longer caring for the sounds you made, you had to gain terrain. Your legs were already trying to give in when you spotted a clearing; and there it was, shining with the white cast of moonlight, the moonflower. You turned to see behind you, no sign of the wolf. A glade wasn’t a good place to go when you wanted to lose a fierce beast since there is nowhere to hide in them.

You looked back one last time before diving to the side, breath sharp as you tried to reach the place with the flower. Once there you almost threw yourself to the ground, digging around the edges and taking the flower out carefully, trying to work as fast as possible, gently placing the flower under your shirt as you got up and wiped your hands on the grass. 

You heard a howl, and looked around, trying to spot the wolf. It sounded so close. You were terrified, the echoes of the howl reverberated all around you. If you took off in the wrong direction, you might end up running straight towards the beast. 

One deep breath after the other, you heard the howl again, and you took another step back, hearing the sound of something crunching under your feet, you turned your head downwards, spotting the cracked bone you’d seen before, in your dreams. The bones of the fox. You gulped, knowing full well what would come next: a haunting howl sliced through the air piercing your ears, you winced. 

Remus was close. You took a deep breath, trying to remember where the wolf had popped from in your dream, but it had always been from a different place, as if your dreams were all the different possibilities of how tonight would go down. You turned around again, deciding that’s the place you’d run to, only to find the beast right in front of you, its predatory gaze calculating which part of you it would feast on first.

“H-Hey, It’s ok, it’s me,”  you stammered, hands extended as if you could reason with it. You remembered your notes: Werewolves do not remember who they are once transformed. They can be very aggressive, and they have killed friends and loved ones in wolf form. What the hell had you written after that? If he turns and you’re around, run the fuck away. 

If only it was that fucking simple. 

“Remus,” you said then. The wolf growled baring its teeth at you, you winced, struggling not to step back, harsh movements could be your doom. “Moony,” you breathed out. The wolf tilted its head. You half smiled, of course! The boys sometimes talked about Moony as if it were someone else. You took a deep breath, and nodded, gulping as you considered your next words, “I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, extending Remus’ wand further away from your face dangling in between two fingers. Maybe werewolves attack wizards because they know we’re dangerous, you thought naively. 

“I’m gonna leave this in the ground, okay?” you said, you’d read how smart werewolves were, perhaps Moony understands me. You took another deep breath and bent your knees slowly. When you were close enough to the floor you let the wand fall gently on the grass, standing up just as cautiously. Finally, you stared at the wolf, his slow breaths, watching your every move attentively, and it was a stunning specimen. He was huge, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen a wolf so big, with thick and fluffy fur and eyes sharp, golden specks shining with the moonlight, just like Remus’.  

And then, all of a sudden, a sharp sound came from the forest. A growl, but it wasn’t from the wolf. The second he heard it, his ear perked and he lunged straight at you. You crashed back on the ground with a cry, landing next to the rest of the bones you had unwittingly shattered moments ago. 

Moony pushed you onto the ground with one of its paws, his sharp claws on you, past your thick sweater and digging in straight into the skin of your shoulder. His weight was also crushing your sternum, making it hard for you to even breathe. You cried in pain as he flexed his paw, claws digging deeper. You felt tears streaming down your face, but the wolf wasn’t looking at you, it was looking around. 

You were about to lose consciousness when you heard a familiar growl. You turned your head a little and you saw him “Fang!” you screamed “Get out of here, you’re in danger!” you urged, but the dog only walked closer to the wolf, baring its teeth. You looked at it mortified, but the wolf didn’t move to attack him, yet…

Then you heard a creak from the other side of the forest, a stag, a lot taller than the wolf, and with thick and strong antlers. Just underneath it, there was a small brown rat, with its hair standing on end. It looked like it wanted to get close to you, but was too terrified to do so. 

You stared at them, blinking twice before turning back to the dog, who was still growling at the wolf, attempting to get closer. The wolf shifted, its claws digging deeper into the soft skin of your arm, you held back a cry, whimpering as you bit your lip so hard you drew bIood, again. You turned to the stag once again, staring at its antlers through your lashes. The wolf acted as if it knew these animals. Werewolves don’t really attack animals, they seem to target exclusively Humans, you remembered. 

As you continued to stare, you finally discovered another secret “Prongs,” you whispered as you stared at the stag, “Wormtail,” you said as you lowered your gaze at the rat, and finally you turned around to the dog “Padfoot.” 

The dog, who you had assumed to be Fang, wasn’t even a dog, it was Sirius’ animagus form. He did it, and he turned into a dog, of all things! you thought humorously, somehow managing to smile in such a situation. No wonder the boys always laughed so much when you joked about him being a dog, or about the fact that you’d given him “Puppy” as a nickname. Moony’s claws dug deeper, and you emitted a cry, Prongs tensed as if he was preparing to gore the wolf. And that’s when it downed you: Werewolves don’t attack animals, and clearly, they didn’t attack animagus either. Finally, you smiled, recalling one last trick you had under your sleeve.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod 

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: looks like the cat is outta the bag, amma right? This was definetly an intense one, wasn't it? And it's still one of my favourites, I just loooove the action scenes hehe. Either way guys, sorry for the cliffhanger, love ya very much

Raead more Marauders Fiction

[honey-crypt]

I was wondering if I could request stardew valley fic of a farmer with chronic vertigo and Sebastian alongside the ✨DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH WRITE-A-THON✨ (honestly gonna be my favourite write-a-thon) though idk if it’d count as much of a disability other than the balance issues, but at least a walking stick can be used to help balance if ya want ideas for it

a/n: i kinda struggled to write this, hence why it's a short fic. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: medical crisis, mentions of puke/puking

word count: 757

summary: sebastian is here to support you through another vertigo episode.

★ i got you, angel - sebastian x farmer who has chronic vertigo ★

Your eyes stared up at the ceiling while you remained motionless in your bed. The world around you appeared as if it was stuck on a bad tape rewind, your vision tripping and tripping. A burst of nausea struck you and you promptly vomited in the puke bucket on your nightstand. Trip, trip, trip, that was how the world went. Spin, spin, spin, you were trapped in that bed until the episode was over. 

Down in the kitchen, Sebastian stirred the cup of tea, a blend of ginger and peppermint. He wasn’t sure if it was the antiemetic effects that made you enjoy it during your vertigo episodes, but  nonetheless, the black-haired man knew that you loved that blend. Sebastian blew the steam off the tea and deemed it safe to consume, walking up the wooden steps into the bedroom. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted you with a small smile, “I brought you some tea, need me to set it down on the nightstand?” to which you answered with a weak thumbs up. Sebastian placed the cup of tea on the nightstand and laid down beside you, holding you close to his body. You curled up beside him and buried your face into his chest, the hoodie blocking your eyes from the spinning world.

Sebastian adjusted his position and secured you with an arm wrapped over your back. With his free hand, he reached out to the small radio on the other nightstand and turned the knob to the classical music station. A soft melody began to play and enveloped the bedroom in a symphony of violins and flutes. You nuzzled against Sebastian’s chest, the music gently lulling you off to sleep. You liked sleep, sleeping meant not dealing with the nausea, the blurry vision, and the fainting. 

Sebastian rubbed your back with his hand, occasionally tracing shapes and patterns against your thin pajama top. Sometimes, Sebastian wished he could go into your brain and recalibrate everything; after all, he was a programmer at heart. He despised when problems couldn’t be solved. He wanted to fix you, to make you better. 

Sebastian remembered the first time he saw you have a vertigo episode. It was early on in you two’s friendship, you moved to the valley only a month or so ago. The two of you were just chatting by the lake outside his house. The birds were chirping, the trees’ leaves rustled against the cold fall breeze. 

One moment, you were fine, you were getting up from the ground; next thing he knew, Sebastian had to catch you in his arms, as the world around you turned into a never-ending carousel ride. You looked more embarrassed than scared, meekly clinging onto Sebastian like a small child. He carried you off to the clinic without a second thought, trying to mask his concern. 

He looked back down at your sleeping form, feeling you inhale and exhale. Sebastian leaned forward carefully, not wanting to disturb your slumber, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The radio station switched to the next song, one featuring a full fledged orchestra and accompanied by a piano backtrack. 

Sebastian struggled to understand the pain you went through every time you had a bout of vertigo. Sure, he experienced it before, usually when he got ear infections as a kid, but this was different. It was like you were a ticking time bomb and no one knew the next time the vertigo would strike. 

He wanted to take away your pain. The doctors didn’t have any answers, they ran every test imaginable to try to find a diagnosis fitting of your condition. It was simply chronic vertigo, they said, and oh Yoba, how their indifference made Sebastian’s blood boil. 

He knew that you were capable, always strict with yourself to make sure you attended your appointments with the vestibular disorder specialist and the otolaryngologist. He knew that you could handle yourself, but Yoba, did it shatter Sebastian’s heart into pieces when he would find you collapsed by the toilet after vomiting from the nausea or when he would see you cry your tears out because everything around you was moving too fast.

Sebastian peered down at you, his angel. He grabbed the discarded blanket from off the floor and covered the two of you with it. The song slowly came to an end with a final piano and violin harmony. Sebastian’s eyes grew heavy with sleep.

“I got you,” he mumbled aloud, “I got you, angel,” he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

[cemeteryspider]

In the Wake of Destruction: Part 1

Gambit! Remy LeBeau x Mutant! Reader

Summary: Remy leaves on his trip to Genosha, an emotional retelling of season 1 episode 5 "Remember It" from across the globe.

Trigger Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Emotional Distress, and Injury

Word Count: 1310

You let yourself relax on the couch next to Morph and let your head dangle off the back. You felt him shift next to you so you peeked open your eyes to see him, transformed into Remy making googly eyes at you and puckering his lips.

You groaned and scrunched your eyes closed once again, "Don't be a dick, Morph."

"Relax sweetie, he's gonna be just fine, he's in the one place mutants are protected in the world," He put his hand on your knee, and you huffed looking at him again.

"I know, Morph. That doesn't mean I don't worry about him," You set your head in your hands and heard loud footsteps in the hallway.

Wolverine came in, thunking Morph upside his head, "Don't make the lady more upset than she already is." 

Morph rubbed his head, shifting back to his normal form, "Alright, alright, just trying to lighten the mood."

Logan gave a small grunt, settling onto the couch next to you. "Ain't nothing light about waiting for news like this. Feels like the calm before the storm."

"Calm down, Wolvie, we were just talking about the good ol' thief," With that your eyes shifted back to the television screen where you watched live news coverage from Genosha.

When Remy told you he was leaving to go to Genosha with Rogue and Magneto you were immediately hesitant. Not because you did trust him around the auburn-headed bombshell on the jet, no you knew that ship had sailed a long time ago.

No, it was an odd feeling in your stomach. Something in you begging him not to leave, but as you racked your head thinking for a reason you couldn't find any. He told you that he needed to see that the place was really what it said it was. To ensure that it truly was a sanctuary for mutants.

You had Beast search the jet for any and all issues, you asked Magneto if there were any rising tensions in Genosha to which he replied 'Nothing out of the ordinary', you even had Scott ask Madelyne Pryor, which you did not condone them continuing to speak, yet still nothing came up.

Not a single reason you should be worried about him traveling, yet as the day approached, you still asked him to stay anyway.

"Maybe you should stay home, I'm not feeling too great, Remy," You latched onto his arm as you walked him to the landing pad.

He looked at you with a smirk, " I promise I'll be back before you know it, Chere."

Setting his bag down, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you in the air momentarily. When your feet hit the ground once more his lips enveloped yours in a passionate kiss.

"We do not have time for your romantic hijinks at the moment, let us go,” Magneto grunted as he stepped into the jet.

Remy glanced at you one last time, his eyes softening, "I need to see it for myself, Chere. If Genosha is really the sanctuary they claim, it could change everything for mutants. For us. I want to build a future where we don’t have to hide, where we can be safe." He kissed you softly, his touch lingering, as if trying to imprint the memory of you before he left. 

“I love you, Chere” With one last kiss he turned to get on the plane giving you a wave. The plane lifted off the ground within a couple of minutes he was gone. 

“I love you too, Remy,” You whispered into the air.

Several hours later, you were still in the same position, having barely moved except to glance occasionally at the clock. The news had been monotonously reporting about peaceful events in Genosha, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Suddenly and without warning the reporter on the ground stumbled as the building crumbled behind her. Wolverine and Morph jumped up from the couch but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene playing out. 

"Scott! Jean! Everyone get in here!" Someone shouted for the rest of the team, but you couldn't distinguish who. It could have even been you. 

You could only focus on the destruction on screen. The person behind the camera is running towards what might be safety. The once bright and bustling scene of Genosha was now bathed in reds and purples.

You slid from your place on the couch to the floor, hands grasping the sides of your face as you watched your friends, no, family fight the monstrous sentinels.

Your heart slid to a stop, watching one of those beasts destroy Magneto and a gaggle of children with one well-timed strike.

Whatever happened Magneto didn't get up after that attack.

Rogue charged the sentinel, with Remy not far behind on the motorcycle he procured. You knew it was him from the beautiful white suit you helped him pick out for the event and the motorcycle that he expertly wove through the crumbling streets of Genosha. 

He then used the bike to hurl Rogue off her warpath to the side.

"No, Remy, please don't do this," Your words were barely audible as Jubilee sat next to you on the floor, her hand resting on your knee. Every worst-possible-case scenario raced through your head a mile a minute.

It didn't stop Remy from running at the sentinel with all his might. Running and jumping across the broken concrete to get closer. Just close enough to...

Then in a split second, a needle-like appendage was on his side. Even though the cameraman was zoomed in as close as possible, you still couldn't see his face clearly.

Tears blurred your vision, but you quickly blinked them away, forcing yourself to bear witness to this massacre.

The appendage brought Remy close to one of its three faces, but just when you figured the fight was over it started to glow. A pinkish-purple glowed from the seams of the creature. Then in a beautiful pink nuclear-like explosion the camera cut.

Forcing the room to watch the fire covering a section of Genosha, instead of the fates of their friends.

You didn't even hear Trish Tilby's words as you curled up into a ball and continued to block the world out with your tears.

~~~

After the night was over you saw the jet landing just outside, and in a moment of weakness your legs carried you there. An ounce of hope telling you that Remy was sitting in one of the seats waiting to come home to you like he had promised.

However, when Kurt stepped out alone, you could feel the hope draining from your body.

"Meine Freundin," He said as he teleported off the jet and next to you. Still, a part of you waited for the door to open and the stairs to descend. You felt his arm sit around your shoulders.

You looked over at him, misty-eyed already, "Where is he, Kurt?"

He cast his eyes downward, "Gambit is... on the plane. Sadly he cannot come out to greet you."

"He's gone?" Your tears mixed with the light rain.

With a small sigh, he stepped in front of you, "Es tut mir so leid, freund."

“You’re wrong.”

“I am not. I am so sorry for that.”

"But he promised," You fell to your knees and allowed Kurt to kneel in front of you, taking you into his arms as sobs racked your body, "He promised."

The rain didn't stop that day. As you stayed there, embraced by Kurt's comforting presence, memories flicked through your mind. Then a thought, the life with Remy you never had, a house, and kids. You cried harder into Kurt’s shoulder; you wanted it so badly. 

The rain mingled with your tears, but within you, a spark of determination began to flicker.