#she cried herself to sleep every night and pulled herself back together every morning

[adieutristana]

Heya!! Read your rules and saw your request slots were still open. And I saw you wanted Arcane women specifically. So can I request some Mel Medarda x NB reader who reunites with the after her disappearance due to the Black Rose? Comfort and fluff where reader was worried fucking sick and is surprised she’s alive (I’m pretty sure the time jump was a year or close to a year so-). But yeah, just a lot of fluff and happy stuff. Please and thank you!! ^^

of course! thank you for requesting <3

one out of three finals knocked out, pray i survive the other two guys 😛

summary: mel and nb reader reuniting after mel’s run-in with the black rose.

characters included: mel

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of death, s2 spoilers.

men dni.

chewing on needles. salt in the back of your throat. hair-pulling. constant screeching. nausea. lifting a searing iron. explosions.

that is how life feels without the presence of mel medarda.

without the knowledge of where she is, what she’s doing, or if she’s even alive.

things seemed to be going okay- although mel was wrecking herself about what to do with her mother in charge, harping on her and picking apart her every move, things were okay. things were good. you were mel’s rock, the anchor keeping her stable throughout all of the chaos that was piltover’s current political climate.

and then mel just… disappeared. seemingly vanishing into thin air. you searched every single spot the woman could be: her home, of course. gala halls. shops she frequented. the council room. academy properties. you’d even tried to ask soldiers stationed outside of ambessa’s quarters where mel was, but none of them could provide an answer. none of them would provide an answer.

to say you were worried sick was an understatement. you couldn’t sleep. your appetite was at an all-time low. all you could think about was mel. mel, mel, mel. you laid in bed during the early mornings, the space next to you uncomfortably empty. no shift of weight on the mattress like usual when mel got her early start. no mess of limbs as you woke up in her embrace. just you, staring at the gold-trimmed ceiling, with an indescribable pit in your stomach.

above all, you worried for mel’s safety. while a respected woman in piltover, being a council member did come with its risks. maybe someone had snapped, and taken their anger out on her, and she was gone this entire time. but you couldn’t think like that. you couldn’t, you couldn’t.

mel had been taken away from you. your darling, your dearest love. you couldn’t let anything take hope away from you, too.

your head hung uncharacteristically low as you made your way through the streets of piltover. the air hung heavy, and every little thing seemed less… appealing since mel’s disappearance. your heart ached inside of your chest as you recalled going into luxury shops with mel on the way to run actually necessary errands, as well as buying various collectibles from street vendors when they popped up.

it just wasn’t the same. being without mel for such a long time… how long had it been now? six months? you couldn’t tell. the days had begun to blur together around the two week mark. you tried desperately to search for a purpose without mel in your life, but how could you? it seemed so unfair to the woman. but you had to keep pushing. giving up would be even more unfair to mel.

another month passed. and another. still, radio silence from mel. no words from the other council members, anyone else in piltover, or even mel’s own mother.

your tear ducts had dried up long ago, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to cry. you wanted to scream from the rooftops and wail and break down so fucking badly- but you didn’t have it in you anymore. you had cried yourself hoarse. your tears had been used months ago. day and night, night and day, until you physically couldn’t. there was a lot that you just physically couldn’t.

looking out the fogged window, hoping that you’ll see the familiar, tall, elegant silhouette of the woman you loved. but you never did.

until the day you finally did.

mel cowered in one of piltover’s squares, her hands in her hair and her eyes squeezed shut. her breath increasingly shallow. but despite her curling into herself, you immediately recognized it was her. you had to get to her.

you nearly tripped over yourself running down the marble stairs. out the door. running on pure adrenaline to get to mel.

“mel! mel! mel? can you hear me? oh my god, mel…”

you panted, taking a pause to catch your breath. hunching over with your hands on your thighs, standing up and trying to maintain your balance. you saw her. in the distance- so close yet so fucking far. too far.

for the first time in close to a year, your eyes filled with tears. a dam threatening to break at any second. you have to keep moving, you have to get to mel.

mel looks back over her shoulder, and the second her eyes settle on you, she’s sprinting to see you. both of you running record-speed towards each other, without a care in the world who or what was watching.

when mel finally reaches you, her arms close around your shaking form. her eyes look directly into yours, and her hands are roaming all over you. your shoulders, your cheeks, your waist, the small of your back. grasping at you any way she can.

“are you… real?”

mel mutters. her voice is soft and she sounds so defeated.

“yes, mel, i’m real.”

you whisper, tears finally falling. once they start falling, they don’t stop- the dam broke, but it’s okay. mel is in front of you, in your arms. finally.

the woman then lunges forward to capture your lips with hers. her lips are chapped, a stark contrast to the usual softness, but you can’t help pressing into her. your arms coming to drape around her neck. even after breaking apart for air, peppering little kisses all over her face. her cheeks, her chin, her temples, her forehead. she’s here. mel is here.

mel’s appearance is a far cry from the usual curated perfection she presents to piltover.

her eyes are blown wide and tired, bloodshot. her skin is littered with bruises and blemishes. her nails are cracked and worn down, her clothes tattered. but you swear, she’s never looked more beautiful. maybe it’s the grief talking. maybe you just love her.

mel’s now-calloused hands come to cup both of your cheeks, gazing into your eyes. she swallows, her voice wavering and unsure.

“i didn’t mean to leave. i was… captured, by the black rose. i couldn’t find my way out for so long, and… i saw my brother.”

your eyes widen, and you gasp. kino? hadn’t he died years prior?

“but it wasn’t him. it was a trap. that place was filled to the brim with traps, keeping me in its grasp…”

mel trails off, her eyes still looking into yours. you were her security at this moment. she was yours.

you could only move your arms to wrap around her waist, squeezing. nestling your head into the crook of her neck and gently pressing your lips to the skin.

“i was worried sick.”

you state, voice barely above a whisper.

“i know.”

she replies, cradling the back of your head with one hand.

“i was so scared. the black rose preyed on everything i had left. every weakness, every pain in my life. i even thought i saw you at one point, but no.” she trembles. “it was another trick.”

you mutter small ‘shh’s into mel’s neck. humming, dry tears on your cheeks, assuring her that you’re there. mel is safe now. she’s okay.

“you’re here now, my love. that’s what matters..”

through tears, wiping her own with the pads of your thumbs.

“i’m real. this isn’t a trick. whatever happened back there, it doesn’t matter.”

you accentuate your words by connecting your lips to hers, again, with delicate care. as if the woman is a piece of glass that could break if handled too harshly.

mel pulls back after a moment with a somber smile, mouthing, ‘i love you.’

“i love you more.” you whisper. “we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?”

[coolprettyleo]

begin again au ☆ - Frankies Lore!

wc: 1.8k

tw: drinking, mean coach, quitting, embarrassing? fluff bit of angst?

ryan leonard x hughes sister au!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie couldn't believe what she had just done. something that had been a long time coming finally crashed down and for the first time in her life frankie felt bittersweet.

her whole life has revolved around the sport of hockey; having three brothers playing in the NHL and a mother and father who both played collegiete and now coach is a nightmare in disguise; for someone who is so tired of trying.

dont get her wrong she loved the sport. growing up, she started to confuse what the love was actually for. she thought she held the same passion to play that her brothers did, she was wrong. she now knows the love was to watch it never play it. she loved too watch her family come together and love something so much. she loved too watch other people play. she loved it from a distance. it took a while to come to terms with that.

when she explains the situation to anyone she always uses the same analogy. she loves to hear country music but that doesn't mean she wants to become the next taylor swift. even if she was a fan.

frankie had finally had enough and quit. not before going off on her coach though. something that she had been wanting to say every time she had been forced to stay after practice, run extra drills, every time she has been yelled at for tipping a shot in, every time she had been compared to her brothers, she finally did it.

*flashback to earlier*

"I want to see you guys here tomorrow morning seven am sharp!" coach lindsey said fiercely.

frankie respected the woman. her story was something she found inspiring. but right now she wanted the strangle the woman. her bones felt as if she was just hit by a bus and she hadn't had a good night sleep in about a month. so frankie being frankie, loudly groaned.

"hughes! just for that, you can stay back and do some laps!"

dont cry. dont cry. dont cry. you caused this.

her teammates filed out torwards the locker rooms desperately trying to get away before their coach decided to ultimately punish all of them while she began to skate. in her head frankie was about to lose it as her coach began to yell insult after insult.

"cmon hughes! you're never going to be good as your brothers with that speed"

"you call that faster?"

"I didn't tell you you can stop!"

coach lindsey yelled. she looked and sounded like abby lee miller. frankie smiled to herself at the thought as she began to slow down after skating as fast as she could for about fifteen minutes straight. not feeling well frankie skated off the rink towards the closest trashcan and threw up.

as she heard her coach coming up to her she began to plead.

"please, I cant take it anymore" she cried.

"your done for tonight. and fix that attitude by tomorrow morning will ya. you think your brothers are pulling this crap with their coaches?"

"I said I cant do it anymore!" frankie yelled finally having enough. shocking both herself and her coach.

"how is any of this okay! after everything you just yelled at me, pushing me through utter exhaustion, you come over here and try to act like its okay!?! i'm done."

"grow up and stop being a brat hughes. i'll see you tomorrow."

"you won't. I promise you that" Frankie threw back as she got her bag and began to walk out.

"you walk out that door and your future on this team is done!"

"its been done" frankie said walking out with tears streaming down her eyes.

*flashback ended*

she didn't know what to do. if she were to call her family they would worry and fly in thinking she was going through a manic episode, maybe she was but this felt real and it felt good.

its like her brain and heart had been at war since she was thirteen and her heart had finally won the war five years later. she didn't know whether to laugh or cry though.

she was happy because she was finally free. but she felt a dark cloud gloom over her when she realized she had to tell her family what she just did. she honestly didn't know how they were going to react.

the guilt began to rain on her as she remembered hoe happy they had been for her because they realized she can actually go on and play professionally since the PWHL had its debut and she was already a top prospect for the 2024 year draft but she just went and ruined it.

they're going to disown me.

that thought alone caused frankie to be where she was right now. in a bar with her fake ID drinking her feelings away on a wednesday night. alone. this had to be borderline alcoholic.

"I mean I wanted this right? so why do I feel like throwing myself off the bridge! why am I like this! am I being annoying? you can tell me greg" frankie rambled on to the bartender whose name was actually john.

"im going to call you and uber" he said dismissing her not wanting to deal with a drunk college girl.

"no! let me call someone!" she said taking the bar phone away from him. seeing as her phone had died about forty five minutes ago. quickly dialing the only number she remembered due to the fact she never saved his contact in her phone.

"hello?"

"drew! please, please come pick me up! you know I hate taking ubers alone. I swear i'll give you a little something after..." she said suggestively.

"frankie? hold on drews in the shower. its will, are you drunk? really on a wednesday? where are you?" will began to scold her over the phone, sounding very motherly.

"don't you judge me, I needed this. and im at the mecca" frankie slurred.

"ryan and I will be there in fifteen" he said hanging up.

__

"lady get off the counter!"

is what will and ryan heard when they walked into the bar.

"oh god" ryan said as he saw frankie start to crawl onto the counter. quickly rushing over to pull her off.

"m'not interested." she mumbled when she felt big hands around her waist.

ryan felt his heart crack. he knew he shouldn't because, one she probably thinks its some random guy and two frankie doesn't know he likes her.

since he first met frankie he realized he's had a thing for her but being the good friend he is, he kept his feelings to himself not wanting to start problems with drew.

it gives him so much anger to think about the fact that drew basically just uses her for sex. but at the same time she's probably just using drew too. so who is he to to get mad.

someone who would give her the world

"what are you doing frankie" will says giving her a disappointed look as ryan pulls her over his shoulder.

"I was just trying to dance!" frankie says upside down.

"on a wednesday at seven thirty pm? at least wait till ten" ryan says approaching the car and strapping her in.

"i quit the team"

"WHAT"

"ur lying"

will and ryan said at the same time with their eyes wide. they knew frankie hated playing hockey, they just never thought she was going to quit. someone with as much talent as frankie needs to be out there.

"m'not. im done and im scared to tell my family. I think they're going to be mad" she slurred as her eyes began to water.

ryan, who cant handle to see her cry quickly got into the back seat with her, and started to comfort her. wrapping her up in his arms and wiping her tears that began to fall from her big blue eyes. he could stare into them forever.

he told will to start driving back to her apartment as he comforted her.

"frankie, your family loves you and you know that. they're never going to hate you because you quit, if anything I think they've been expecting it-"

"geez thanks ryan" frankie says crying drunkly. ryan cant help but smile a bit because even though he hates to see her like this she looks really cute.

"not like that, its just anyone who knows and loves you can see your not happy out there. I see it, will sees it, so I know for a fact they see it too. and if they didnt and they do get mad thats on them. its your life not theirs" ryan says with his arm wrapped around her as she sniffles into his shirt.

"I guess so" she finally says seeing as their pulling up to her dorm.

"can you walk me up? its okay if you dont want too! I get it, im just scared that the RA is going to see me like this and call campus security on me and-"

"frankie! of course ill walk you up, are you kidding" ryan cuts off her rambling pulling her out of the car.

"i'll walk home smitty, you dont have to wait" ryan says knowing he was doing homework earlier that was due tonight before frankie had called.

"you sure?" will says kinda feeling bad for not staying and helping him take care of her. but then realizing ryan probably wants to take care of her.

him and gabe loved to tease ryan on the fact he was hopelessly in love with frankie. of course they would never tell drew even though they know if ryan were to just tell drew how he feels drew would back off. ryan just likes to be complicated.

"yeah, we'll be fine. right frankie?" he says keeping her upright. she was fully awake but the thing about frankie hughes is she loves to lay on the floor when she was drunk.

"yup!!" she chirps while ryan smiles down at her.

they wave goodbye to will while ryan picks her up and walks to towards her door. he smiles as he gets too her door and sees her doormat.

'cool bitches only'

he opens the door using her keys that he found in her purse and hauls her inside down the hall to her room. her room was so her. he loved it.

god I sound like a creep.

he shakes the thought from his head as he settles her down, takes off her shoes, and wipes all the remaining makeup off her face. thinking of how perfect she was.

"ryan" she says dreamingly as she feels him pull the cover over her body.

"yes baby?"

frankie felt her stomach do a cartwheel and she couldn't understand why.

"thank you. for everything."

"anytime frankie hughes"

he says before giving her a kiss on her forehead and walking home.

send in ideas for this au!! im really excited for it!

[toodleoorblx]

Heliotropes

Rio Vidal x Agatha Harkness Word count: 2,464

Summary: Agatha allows Nicky to go to a nearby flower patch. Only if she comes with. Who waits for them there kick starts something that Agatha never thought could be possible again. (Chapter 1 - /5) Warnings: Angst with hope A/N: Fixing up Marvels Agatha All Along episode bc Marvel sometimes sucks :(

Chapter 1: A bouquet of flowers

Agatha sits with her back pressed firmly against the damp, knotted bark of an ancient oak. The earth beneath her is soft from the morning rain, fragrant with the heady smell of wet grass and leaves that feel cold and alive against her skin. She pulls in a deep breath, savoring the air thick with rain’s echo, while her fingers tenderly stroke her son’s long, brown hair. Nicholas’s head rests on her lap, his small face upturned to the canopy of branches above, though he’s not looking at anything in particular—he’s deep in thought, his young mind a quiet mystery to her.

His small hands clutch a dandelion he plucked during one of his rambles, its yellow petals bright even in the soft light of the fading day. Agatha’s lips tighten as she watches him. Unless they’re hunting witches together, unless she can track his every step, she hates when he’s out of sight.

“Nicky,” she says softly, her voice almost swallowed by the stillness of the forest. She’s caught, as always, by the sight of him—those wide brown eyes, full of something that feels so much older than five years, the faint lines of a smile lingering on his lips, the long hair that falls over his brow. His fingers worry at the dandelion as he turns toward her, drawn by her voice.

“Yes, Mama?” he answers, his tone so innocent it tugs at her heart. Yesterday had been his birthday. Five years. Another year gifted to her, another reprieve from the silent, eternal fears that steal her sleep. She wakes some nights in a sweat, clutching at empty air, her throat hoarse from cries she can never remember. Each year she pleads silently for just one more, and each year, mercifully, he remains her own. Nicholas smiles up at her, his eyes soft, and Agatha finds herself smiling back, her fears dissolving under his gaze.

She tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, her thumb brushing his cheek. “You seem especially bored today,” she murmurs.

He shrugs, shifting slightly in her lap. “I want to go to the flower patch, Mama.” His face lights up with a grin, the bright, innocent gleam in his eyes so fierce it makes her chest ache. “The colors will be even brighter after the rain. Can I, please? I promise I’ll stay there. And I won’t even complain if you must kill more witches soon,” he adds, his voice hopeful, even cheeky, as he tries to make his promise sound grand enough to earn her permission. His brown eyes gleam, wide and pleading.

Agatha sighs, torn as always between her fierce protectiveness and her inability to deny him anything when he looks at her like that. “Okay, Nicky. But I’m coming with you.”

The delight on his face is instant, a flash of pure, unfiltered joy that squeezes her heart. “Thank you, Mama!” He throws his arms around her, squeezing her in a hug that leaves her breathless, and plants a quick, sticky kiss on her cheek before scrambling up to his feet, his small figure already bouncing with excitement.

“Stay close,” she warns as she stands, brushing the damp soil from her skirts.

“Slow down, Nicky,” she calls as he begins to dart toward the trail leading to the flower patch. But he’s already laughing, sprinting ahead of her, the sound of his carefree laughter mingling with the rustle of wet leaves as he races to the field they passed only yesterday.

Nicholas stumbles into the field, and it’s as if he’s stepped into a living painting. The flowers sway gently in the lingering cool of the afternoon, each petal a wash of color made all the richer by the earlier rain. Roses unfurl in proud reds and pinks, tulips stand tall in bursts of yellow and purple, and delicate hyacinths scatter their pastel hues. His small fingers reach out, brushing over the softness of a lily. There’s a moment, like the whole world has hushed just for him, where Nicholas feels entirely entranced. He thinks of his mother, of her stern but loving face, and a warm resolve settles in him: he’ll make her a gift.

He kneels before the lilies, carefully plucking the stems with tiny, meticulous fingers, trying not to bruise the petals.

“Nicky?”

The voice, soft but unfamiliar, slices through the stillness, and Nicholas startles, dropping the lilies as he whips around. Standing before him is a woman, a stranger, yet not entirely unfamiliar. She’s tan like him, with skin that seems to soak up the golden hues of the sun, and her large brown eyes mirror his own—warm, curious, carrying an expression of knowing that unsettles him in some way he can’t place. Her dark hair tumbles freely over her shoulders, and a green cloak shrouds her, though her hood is pulled down, leaving her face visible. She smiles warmly, and for a moment, Nicholas finds himself smiling back, charmed by the dimples that appear on her cheeks.

It’s strange, though. Her smile feels so familiar, as though he’s seen it in a dream, or perhaps in a face he only vaguely remembers.

“Who are you?” he asks, tilting his head with the same curiosity mirrored in her gaze.

She doesn’t answer right away, instead watching him with a look that’s almost…wistful. Like she’s savoring the moment in silence, drinking in his presence as though she’s waited a long time to stand before him.

“Someone,” she says finally, her voice low and soft, almost a murmur. “Someone I wish you already knew.”

He frowns, little brows pulling together in confusion. “How do you know my name?” he asks, his fingers tightening around the stems of the flowers he’s gathered.

She kneels down beside him, and he notices the scent she carries—a mix of herbs and damp earth that reminds him of late nights in his mother’s arms, the gentle murmur of lullabies. “How could I not?” she replies, a strange smile playing at her lips. “You’re very special.”

Nicholas bites his lip, wary but fascinated. “Are you…are you a friend of my mama’s?”

For a brief moment, her smile falters, and her gaze drops to the lush green ground as though she’s searching for something buried in the earth. “You could say that,” she murmurs, her voice nearly a whisper. “I used to be very, very close to her. Once upon a time.”

Nicholas tilts his head, studying her face, but her expression remains unfathomable. “You’re not anymore?” he asks, his voice soft, carrying an innocence that seems to tug at something deep within her.

She lifts her eyes to meet his, and in that gaze, there’s a quiet intensity, an ache softened by love. “No,” she says simply. “But I still care for her. I still love her.”

He considers her words, his young mind wrapping around them slowly. “Mama doesn’t have many friends,” he says after a moment, his voice filled with the surety of a child who knows his mother’s world far better than he understands his own. “So…I’m glad she had you.”

Her laugh is soft, almost a sigh. She reaches out, briefly brushing her fingers against his, and her touch is light as a petal. “Thank you, Nicky,” she whispers, her voice thick with a warmth and sadness he doesn’t fully understand.

Agatha reaches the edge of the flower patch, her fingers stained with the juice of wild berries she’d found along the way, but when her eyes land on the scene before her, the berries slip from her fingers, forgotten. There, kneeling among the sea of vibrant blossoms, is Nicholas, his arms overflowing with flowers, grinning up at… her. She can’t see the woman’s face, but the shape of her is unmistakable. There’s an aura around her—dark and vast, like a void just waiting to swallow light. Agatha’s blood runs cold, and she’s frozen in place, a wave of pure dread making her limbs feel weak, her breath sharp and shallow.

“Rio,” Agatha whispers, her voice fractured. It’s like speaking a name that’s only ever lived in her nightmares, one she’s tried to bury a hundred times.

Both Rio and Nicholas turn at the sound of her voice. Nicholas beams up at her with a bright, innocent smile, his arms wrapped around the flowers he’s picked. Rio, on the other hand, looks up slowly, her face calm, yet her gaze heavy and unreadable.

“Mama! You didn’t tell me your old friend would be here,” Nicholas says with the simple enthusiasm of a child, oblivious to the heavy silence that hangs between the two women. He holds up the flowers proudly, his cheeks flushed.

Agatha cant speak. Their resemblance. Nicky is the spitting image of Rio. She hadn't seen it before, but now that they kneel side by side… It makes her want to scream and smile. Of course, she had seen similarities, personality wise, and power wise. Nicky is witty and kind, he has a passion for nature and wildlife that just cannot originate from her alone, and a few weeks ago, he resurrected a dying baby bird. All on his own. At four years old.

That day hadn't left her mind as of late. Who knows what he will be able to do by that time… Oh.

Death is inevitable, not even love can stop it.

Her chest tightens, and she feels the wet warmth of tears sliding down her cheeks. She knows, with sickening certainty, why Rio has come.

“No,” she chokes, her voice trembling as she drops to her knees. “No, no, no, please, Rio—” The words come out broken, desperate, each syllable frayed and raw. “Please… not my baby.”

Rio rises, her eyes holding Agatha’s with a sadness that’s both deep and unfathomable. Nicholas watches her from where he’s seated, his own expression shadowed by confusion. He watches his mother cry, his gaze darting between her and Rio, trying to make sense of it all.

“Our baby,” Rio says, her voice firm but soft, her gaze unwavering as she steps closer to Agatha. “He’s mine too, Agatha. Whether you choose to see it that way or not.”

Agatha can only shake her head, her heart a frantic, pounding ache against her ribcage. “Please,” she whispers, her voice hollow, breaking in her throat. “Please, Rio, give me more time… I-I’ll do anything. Just please, don’t take him.” Her head bows, forehead falling against Rio’s shoulder, her hand clutching at the fabric of her cloak as though holding on could somehow keep her whole.

Rio sighs, and after a moment’s hesitation, her hand comes to rest on Agatha’s head, her fingers sliding gently through her hair. Agatha’s breath shudders, her eyes closed, surrendering to the familiar touch that holds so much power over her.

“I want you to want me,” Rio murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. Agatha feels the wetness of a tear slipping onto her forehead as Rio’s head bows over her, though the sky is clear above them, and no rain falls from it. “But I know I can’t ask that of you. And I’m not here to take him from you.”

Agatha’s breath stutters, sharp and quick, as she lifts her head from Rio’s shoulder. Her brow knits in confusion, still thick with disbelief, and her voice trembles when she speaks. “You’re…not?” Her eyes search Rio’s face, every flicker of movement, every small line of sorrow etched into her expression. But Rio only shakes her head, a slow, quiet gesture that’s as gentle as it is heartbreaking.

“Then…why are you here?” Agatha’s voice is barely more than a whisper, each word laced with fear and hope mingling together so tightly she feels as though she might unravel.

A tear slips down Rio’s cheek, tracing a path over the skin that’s flushed with emotion she’s tried so hard to hold back. Her dark eyes, so like Nicholas’s, are wide and vulnerable, filled with the kind of pain only love can bring. “Because he’s my child too,” she says, her voice barely holding steady, thin and brittle. “I wanted to see if he looked like me, if he liked the same things as I do…if he was happy.” Her voice cracks, and she takes a shaky breath, her fingers curling around her cloak as she fights to hold her composure. “I wanted to be someone to him, even if…even if that’s not a mother.” She pauses, and the weight of her words hangs between them like the heaviest burden. “I’m not here to take him, Agatha. I’m here to see him. His time isn’t up.”

Agatha stands frozen, her heart pounding so hard she’s certain Rio must hear it. Her mouth falls open, lips quivering as her mind races, torn between disbelief and relief. Tears spill down her cheeks, her body unable to contain the flood of emotions, and she lets out a tiny, broken laugh, shaking her head in amazement. “He…he resurrected a baby bird, you know,” she says weakly, her shoulders slumping as she shrugs, grasping for anything to steady herself. “Just a few weeks ago.”

Rio’s lips curve into a soft, tender smile, the kind of smile that only someone who knows a love so deep it defies logic can give. “I know.” She looks away, almost bashful, though her pride is evident in her eyes. “I didn’t think he’d get any necromancy from me,” she murmurs, a hint of wonder and admiration in her voice.

Agatha’s smile wavers, her lips pressing together in a tremulous line as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. Her gaze softens, her blue eyes glistening with tears, her heart pounding with an overwhelming sense of connection to the woman she’d once loved, the mother of her son. “I…I didn’t think it was possible,” she says, her voice thick, shaking.

A rustle from nearby breaks their moment, and Nicholas stands up, tilting his head with the same curiosity he shares with his mother. His small face is filled with hope and innocent confusion as he watches them, his brown eyes flicking between them, searching for answers. “Are you and my mama friends again?” he asks, his voice light with the straightforwardness only a child could bring to such a moment.

Agatha freezes, her voice caught in her throat, unable to answer as a rush of emotions threatens to swallow her whole. Her eyes glisten as she looks at Nicholas, his small form so much a mirror of the two of them that her heart clenches painfully. But Rio’s expression softens as she looks at him, and she presses her lips together, struggling with her own emotions before finally answering.

“I hope so,” she whispers, a tear slipping down her cheek, though a small smile tugs at her lips.

[lunarubra]

Se la montagna non va a Maometto

Hi everyone, I know I said I’d publish the next chapter soon, but life and my insecurities have caused a bit of a delay (I’ve rewritten this chapter five times now). I still need a couple more days to get it just right. In the meantime, here’s a small treat for you—I hope to have the next chapter ready by Sunday. Thanks for your patience, lovelies!

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: Just another morning, waking up together...

Warning: Smut and Fluff, English Not My First Language

Words: 2590

Masterlist | Serie

Jiyan loved sleeping, but she was always an early riser. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the many years she spent living on a boat, where life moved in harmony with the rhythms of nature. The boat was more than just a home; it was like a floating world of its own, where every day began and ended with the gentle sway of the sea. Mornings on the water were magical. She’d wake with the soft light of dawn filtering through the cabin windows, the sound of waves lapping against the hull, and the distant cries of seabirds calling out to the new day.

She remembers, she would throw on something warm, her bare feet quick against the cool deck, rushing up to catch the first glimpse of the sunrise. The sky would be painted in shades of pink, orange, and gold, and she’d stand there, feeling the salty breeze on her face as the sun rose to greet the waves. There was a peacefulness in those moments, where the world seemed vast and quiet, yet so intimately close. Sometimes, the clouds would part just right, casting shimmering reflections on the water, and it felt like the ocean itself was waking up, stretching beneath her feet.

Living on the boat had taught her to move with the elements—to respect the tides, the winds, and the unpredictable moods of the sea. Every day was different, shaped by the shifting colours of the sky and the ever-changing patterns of the water. It was a life that made her feel alive, deeply in tune with the world around her, where the boundary between herself and nature blurred. Perhaps that’s why, even now, she found it impossible to sleep in. Her body was still synced to the quiet whisper of the sea, ready to rise with the sun and greet the day, just as she had for so many years.

But now, things felt a bit different. Waking up next to Cillian gave her a sense of peace and safety that she craved. Even though they still had their own places, if he was in Dublin, it was rare for them not to share the same bed. She still loved her independence, but it felt like a waste not to spend every possible moment together, even through the night.

Jiyan was a morning person, though, and loved starting her day by turning on the radio and preparing some çay. The man sleeping beside her, however, was the exact opposite. Cillian loved to sleep in, and not even the clamour from the mechanic shop below her apartment could stir him. No matter how loud it got, he remained blissfully unaware, lost in sleep.

She stretched beside him, and he stirred slightly, pulling her closer with his arm around her waist, burying his face in her neck before letting out a contented sigh. She smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, taking in the quiet details of his face. As she gently tried to slip out of his embrace, Cillian only tightened his grip, unwilling to let her go.

"Cill..." she whispered, but there was no response. With a mischievous smirk, a plan started to form in her mind.

Se la montagna non va a Maometto…

Carefully moving his arm aside to give herself more room, she pushed him onto his back and paused for a moment, admiring the view, waiting for any reaction. There was none—he looked completely dead to the world.

“Let’s see if that’s true for all kinds of stimulation”, she thought with a devilish grin.

She loves seeing him like this, just in his boxers, with his bare chest exposed and the lines of his muscles visible. His rhythmic breathing was soothing as he slept. She kissed his neck slowly, savoring the chance to explore every inch of his body while he was unaware. She enjoyed tracing her fingers along his chest and abs, pausing occasionally to see how he reacted. Even in his sleep, there was a slight tension in his face, as if he was anticipating something. When she reached his nipples, she playfully teased them with her tongue until he let out a moan, still asleep but showing signs of arousal.

Feeling an obvious hardness growing beneath her thigh where it lay close to his groin, Jiyan released his nipple with a satisfying pop and grinned.  

Careful not to jolt him awake, Jiyan skimmed her palm up Cillian's thigh, feeling the pleasant wiry texture of his leg hair. He shifted on the bed and parted his legs a little, still asleep and breathing evenly, even if a bit faster. She caressed him through his boxer and he almost jolted in her hand, contracting his abs and letting out another deep moan.

“Having a good dream, aren’t we, Cillian?” she thought with a sly smile on her lips. 

Slowly and carefully, not wanting to wake him up just yet, she slid her hand under the waistband of his boxers and finally felt him in her grip. Cillian mumbled something unintelligible, his voice still soft and sleepy despite his growing arousal in her hand. 

With one final move, she pulled down his underwear, releasing his throbbing member. She pressed tender kisses on it as it pulsed, engorged with blood. 

She traced her fingers gently over it as he slept, noticing that he was gradually becoming more alert. She took it into her mouth, sending another intense surge of heat through Cillian's body. Blood rushed to his groin, causing him to become fully aroused in her warm and wet mouth.

She pulled away with a slight pop and looked up at his face, noticing his squinted, confused expression. She licked him again, savouring the sensation like a soft serve cone, taking him deeply into her mouth, almost reaching the back of her throat to make a point before pulling back out.

"Jiyan…" he moaned deeply.

Then she began sucking again, slowly, her eyes lifting to meet Cillian’s as he finally opened them, gazing down at her with a mix of amazement and surprise. In any other situation, she might have found it amusing, but right now, she had a more important task to focus on. With another deep suck, she could see how hard it was for him to resist grabbing her hair—his hands clutched the bedsheet instead, fingers tightening as he fought the urge. The control she had over him in this moment thrilled her, and she was fully enjoying every second of it.

“Fuck, Jiyan…”

Jiyan smirked around his length, pleased with his reaction. She increased her pace, hollowing her cheeks and swirling her tongue around the tip. Cillian's hips began to buck involuntarily, seeking more of the wet heat of her mouth.

"God, Aji..." he groaned, his voice still husky with sleep.

She hummed in agreement, sending vibrations through his sensitive flesh. Cillian's hand finally found its way to her hair, gently running his fingers through the dark curls. Jiyan took him deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate his full length.

Cillian's breathing grew ragged as he neared his peak. "Jiyan, I'm close... I'm gonna—"

She doubled her efforts, bobbing her head faster and sucking harder. With a strangled cry, Cillian gripped the sheets tightly, his back arching off the bed. Overwhelming waves of pleasure flowed through his body as he reached his climax, releasing himself directly into her throat. Panting heavily, he gazed down at Jiyan with hooded eyes. She released him with a soft pop and licked her lips with a coy smile, crawling up his body.

“Good morning” she said sweetly, kissing his chest while he was still trying to catch his breath.

Cillian chuckled, still catching his breath, as he ran his fingers through Jiyan’s tousled hair. “Jesus, love, are ye tryin’ to kill me?” he murmured, his voice still thick with pleasure. He pulled her up for a slow, lazy kiss, tasting himself on her lips.

Jiyan hummed contentedly against his mouth, her body moulding perfectly to his. As they parted, she nuzzled his neck, her warm breath tickling his skin. "I thought you could use a nice wake-up call," she teased, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

"Mmm, I'd say that was more than nice," Cillian replied, his hands roaming down her back. 

In one swift motion, he flipped them over, pinning Jiyan beneath him. His eyes darkened with renewed desire as he took in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Jiyan's breath caught in her throat as Cillian's muscular body pressed down on hers. A low moan escaped her lips as she arched against him, desperate for more of his touch. "Is that so?" she purred, wrapping her toned legs around his waist. The soft fabric of his t-shirt rode up her body, revealing the smooth, lean skin of her waist. Every nerve in her body was on fire, craving the closeness of their bodies entwined.

Cillian growled low in his throat, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His hands slid down her sides, fingers digging into her hips as he ground against her. Jiyan gasped, breaking the kiss to throw her head back in pleasure.

Taking advantage of her exposed neck, Cillian trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat. He nipped at her pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue. Jiyan's fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she writhed beneath him.

"Cillian," she moaned, her voice breathy with need. "Please..."

Cillian smirked against her skin, trailing his lips down to her collarbone. "Please what, Aji?" he murmured, his hands sliding under her nightshirt to caress her bare skin.

Jiyan arched into his touch, frustrated by the teasing. "You know what," she groaned, tugging at his hair.

"I want to hear you say it," Cillian insisted, his fingers dancing along the waistband of her panties.

"Touch me," Jiyan pleaded, her hips bucking up against him. "I need you inside me."

With a low growl, Cillian captured her lips in a passionate kiss. He made quick work of removing her nightshirt and panties, tossing them aside. His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and dip. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. Jiyan gasped, arching into his touch.

"You're so beautiful," Cillian murmured, trailing kisses down her neck to her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. Jiyan moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair.

As Cillian lavished attention on her breasts, his hand slid lower, tracing patterns on her inner thighs. Jiyan spread her legs wider, silently begging for more. Finally, his fingers found her wet heat, and they both groaned at the contact.

"So wet for me already," Cillian said, his voice rough with desire. He circled her clit, drawing out breathy moans and whimpers. He watched her face intently, savouring every flicker of pleasure that crossed her features. Jiyan's hips rocked against his hand, seeking more friction.

"Please, Cill," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you..."

Cillian couldn't deny her request, feeling himself grow hard once again.

He positioned himself between her thighs and pressed against her entrance, eliciting a groan from both of them as he eased inside her tight warmth. They kissed each other deeply as they became one, revelling in the intense pleasure of being joined together.

Cillian stilled for a moment, allowing Jiyan to adjust to his size. He peppered kisses along her jaw and neck, murmuring words of adoration against her skin. When Jiyan rolled her hips impatiently, he began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had Jiyan gasping with each thrust. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"Faster," she panted, her nails raking down his back. "Please, Cillian."

He obliged, picking up the pace and angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. Jiyan cried out, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.

Cillian buried his face in her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent. He could feel himself getting close, but he was determined to bring Jiyan to her peak first. Snaking a hand between their bodies, he found her clit and began rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud.

"Oddio," Jiyan moaned, her inner walls clenching and causing Cillian to feel a surge of pleasure as she cursed in one of her native languages. Knowing it was him that brought her to this point.

"Come for me, Aji," Cillian whispered in her ear, his voice husky with desire. "Let go, love."

His words, combined with the dual stimulation, pushed Jiyan over the edge. She cried out his name, her body arching off the bed as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. Cillian groaned at the feeling of her inner walls clenching around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Cillian followed her over the edge, burying himself deep inside her as he came. He collapsed on top of her, both of them panting heavily as they basked in the afterglow of their shared pleasure.

After a few moments, Cillian rolled to the side, pulling Jiyan with him so she was draped across his chest. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

"Good morning indeed, love," he murmured, a smile in his voice.

Jiyan chuckled softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Mmm," she replied, her breath warm against his skin.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of each other's bodies. The sounds of the city outside their window began to filter in - the familiar sounds of the shop downstairs opening and the first cars being worked on, mingling with the soft hum of people chatting as they walked by. But in some quiet moments, when the busy world seemed to fade away, they could hear the distant rumble of the sea, a soothing reminder of its constant presence.

Cillian turned slightly, glancing at the clock on the shelf.

“6 o’clock, Jiyan?” he asked, his voice a bit petulant. “It’s so early…”

“Are you really complaining?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

Realising he was treading on dangerous ground, Cillian quickly retreated. “Nope, never. Feel free to wake me up this way anytime you like,” he murmured, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head. “I love you,” he said softly, then added with a teasing grin, “Even at 6 a.m.”

“You’re such a dork,” she replied with a smile. “So now that you’re awake, you’re going to make breakfast for me, right?”

He kissed her lips again, then with a grand gesture, got up completely naked. He bent down to kiss her hand and said playfully, “Anything for you, m’lady.” He headed off to turn on the kettle, ready to start the day, while Jiyan’s giggles echoed from the other side of the room.

As Cillian stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Life with Jiyan was unpredictable—sometimes chaotic, often hilarious—but it was also full of moments like this, where the simplest things felt profound. He loved how she stirred life into his mornings, turning even the quietest of days into something vibrant. And as he poured the boiling water into the teapot, he thought about how lucky he was to have found her.

Masterlist | Serie

Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

amazing dividers from cafekitsune

[letsgetrowdy43]

Say yes to heaven ☆—

This takes place from Christmas 2020 to the spring of 2021

Warnings: heavy making out, swearing, lmk if anything else :)

The first part

Au Masterlist!!

It had been months since Honey and Quinn's summer of rendevous, the nights of secret-filled kisses and promises of a forever slowly withered away with time as the autumn months approached. On their last night together in Michigan the two of them sat down in her room at the lake house and talked about it all, from the break up to what they wanted after she was done school.

He'd asked her only one question that entire night "what do you want in your life?", it was simple really, but Honey was at a loss for words. How do you say 'the only thing I've ever wanted in my life is you' without sounding completely lost, like she needed to re-evaluate her entire being. But it was the truth, Quinn was really all she wanted, she had only ever pictured a life with him in it, where he was she would settle, it seemed so unworldy but it was something she'd decided long before everything got messy. Instead she settled for a quick "I dont know yet," leaving both of them disatified with the conversation.

The next morning regret of falling back into old habits hit Honey as she watched him pack up his bags and head to the airport, she missed him a lot more than she cared to let on, but this was how it was meant to be, longing for love on two different sides of the continent.

☆☆☆

Honey was asked to go with Team USA to the World Juniors to help with the media during her Christmas break, seeing as the pandemic had taken a hit on hockey at the time it was the only work she'd really been offered in a while so she took the opportunity.

Quinn on the other hand had been itching to see her, the moment he pulled into his driveway with Jack he expected to her be at his house along with her family waiting in their kitchen for family dinner as they usually did when they were finally altogether. He was gravely disappointed when he walked into his house to only see her parents and older brother on the couch, with no Honey in sight.

Honey's senior year had gonna by quicker than she'd anticipated, after Christmas it felt as if in the blink of an eye she was searching for a grad dress and searching for media jobs in the Michigan area. She also gave in to her curiosity and looked into jobs in the Vancouver area as well, pretending not to be upset as she job searched, fully knowing that there was and probably wouldn't ever be a set plan for her to move in with Quinn.

She and Quinn had yet to talk about if their futures aligned, she silently hoped that maybe he would ask her to get back together cause there was no one else out there for her, she knew that, but she wasn't going to be the girl to insert herself into his new life.

The night before her graduation she received a short message from Quinn saying sorry to her for not being able to make it to her big day, telling her how proud he was of her for accomplishing her dreams and wishing her well. She followed his text up with a quick thanks and a joke about him being a university dropout, then turned off her phone and cried in her room as she laid out her cap, gown, and dress.

Something about his absence felt suffocating, this was something she always pictured, and she had always imagined Quinn next to her during all of it. She remembers the end of their sophomore year and how hopeful they had both been in their relationship, it felt like a slap in the face, they were so naive to what the reality would be for their futures.

So now she sat in her bed, deep breathing as she tried to calm herself down to get a good night's sleep.

The next morning was hectic, getting up just as the sun began to rise to get her hair and makeup done, and her dress ironed along with every other small routine she needed in order for her morning to go as perfectly and smoothly as possible.

A quiet knock on her door startled her out of her anxious daze, she fixed the sleeve of her dress and opened the door to see a smiling Quinn in a suit. "You're here?" she said as she pulled herself into his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he held her for the first time in nearly a year. "You really thought I wouldn't make it?" "Yes, and I was mad at you for it" she laughed as she pulled away, her eyes tracing his face, thumb running over the growing beard, face seemingly more mature than the last time she had laid eyes on him, he looked really good. "I could hear the anger in your message," he whispered as his hands found solace on her waist before she allowed him to enter her apartment bedroom, and motioned him to take a seat on her bed.

She searched her room for her jewellery box, Quinn watched her brows furrow as she finally found it, his heart thumping in his chest as he grabbed the small box from his pants pocket. "Hun?" he whispered as she made her way over to him, she stood in between his legs as she put her last earring in, an awkward smile on her face as he stared up at her, "this is for you" he then pressed the small black box into her palm.

Nerves filling his stomach as she opened the tiny box, "you really didn't have to get me anything," she paused as she revealed a key, "is this?" "It's a key to my apartment, I know you said you didn't know where you were gonna end up after school, but a little selfish piece of me wants you all to myself in Vancouver," he mumbled as her gaze switched between the key and him. A grin grew on her face as she nodded, not ready to giving him a verbal answer just yet.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked lowly as she held the key in her hand, such a small thing that just changed the entire trajectory of her entire life. "Please," he mumbled, staring up at her with lustful eyes as she cupped his face as smashed her lips onto his.

His hands gripped her thighs as he pulled her forward and into his lap, "did I tell you how pretty you look today?" he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. She shook her head and placed a kiss on his jaw, "did I tell you that I think the beard is hot," she grinned as his face broke out into a smile, his hand finding the back of her neck and pulling her down to kiss her again.

"I missed this so much," she said in between kisses, smiling at how careful Quin was, trying not to ruin her hair. He hummed, "m' never letting you go again," he whispered as his hands travelled down to her ass, making her laugh at the suprise contact.

"Guys!" Jack swung the door open to tell them that everyone was taking pictures, but screamed at the sight before him and slammed the door shut. "I'm not ready to deal with that," she whispered with a laugh as she looked at a wide-eyed Quiin, placing a kiss on his cheek as she got up off of Quinn's lap to flatten out her dress. "He should've knocked" Quinn shrugged and straightened out his tie, cheeks a cute pink hue as Honey took his hand and led him downstairs.

-

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-

[deathbystero]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐠𝐞 (𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟑𝟔) - 𝟏𝟖 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 - 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟖

Marko grew up in the early 1900s with his mother and siblings in a little house in Italy. He knew very little about his father for the man had died in a work related incident a little after he was born and his mother never seemed very open to discuss the topic further.

The family lived in poverty, rarely able to scrape together enough money from their meagre wages to feed everyone, and more often than not, there was no food at all. Marko did what he could to help out, but it was always down to his older siblings to bring in the money. At times, he was left feeling rather helpless, as if he was just an afterthought,  an unwanted burden on his mother's shoulders. He was another mouth to feed, another being to clothe and shelter. 

When there was nobody home, his siblings were usually forced to take him along when they went into town to sell their wares. As far as Marko knew, none of them ever made much money. His mother would make her own way in the world by sewing dresses and selling whatever she could find but it wasn’t enough. 

Eventually, when Marko had just turned thirteen, the dreaded letter came through the post, giving the family a month’s notice to pack up everything they owned before they were evicted and forced out onto the streets. It was a cold hard truth that had been long awaited, one that everyone in the family had known was coming but which none of them had truly believed. 

His siblings hadn’t stuck around, running off to start new lives just days before the eviction, while Marko was forced to stay behind, clinging to his mother like a scared child. She couldn’t afford to pay rent on even the cheapest of places and they didn’t have any relatives willing to let them stay over until they could get back onto their own feet again. So, with little left to offer, they packed whatever items they had left and ended up on the streets, surviving on the bare minimum. 

Marko's mother found a job washing dishes at a small inn, spending the money she made on alcohol and drinking herself into oblivion every night. He was forced to watch helplessly as she fell apart, unable to do anything other than be there for her as best he could, cleaning up after her and keeping her safe at night. 

While she was at work, Marko roamed the streets, stealing whatever he could get his hands on and eating what scraps he could find. He found himself hating his siblings, hating the idea that they'd gotten away so easily while he was stuck here with no money and an alcoholic mother to take care of. They were lucky. He wasn’t. 

One evening in August,when Marko was sixteen, his mother disappeared, never returning from work. He had tried searching for her, running up and down the streets like a lost puppy, wailing and calling out for her, but it was futile. The woman was gone and he was alone.

He returned back to their pitiful shelter and wept into the night, praying desperately that someone would come for him, would care for him. That night, he cried himself to sleep,  exhausted and starving, whilst he dreamt up a carefully formulated plan; a plan to flee the country and start anew. 

There was a boat, Marko discovered, set to leave early the next morning, taking both cargo and passengers to America. It was his only chance and so he grasped it  eagerly, leaving their sorry shelter behind in search of freedom and adventure.

He snuck his way into the storage hold where the ship was docked and hid under a blanket until dawn broke, the ship pulling away from land and taking him away from the only place he’d ever known and to somewhere entirely foreign. He held onto the hope that maybe things would improve once he found his way there, but deep down he knew he was being foolish. He was a sixteen year old boy, underfed and poor, who hardly spoke a word of English and had no family to fall back onto if all things went downhill. What could he possibly expect to find?  A life amongst strangers would not give him a better chance than he already had, who wouldn't spare him an ounce of pity even if he begged on his hands and knees? What was he thinking? He had to have been totally crazy. No sane person in his right mind would risk their life like this. And yet, here he was still trying. Still trying his hardest to make something of himself. 

The ship docked in America about a week after it’s departure, and Marko was greeted with a strange mix of excitement and dread. He'd been expecting something akin to Europe, but what lay before him was anything but glamorous or fantastical. He felt completely at odds with the people that walked past him,  some laughing and chattering loudly, others barely sparing him a passing glance. He was surrounded by strangers and so incredibly out of place. If anyone should've noticed him in the crowd, they gave no indication of it as they continued talking and laughing and chatting around him with equal gusto, unaware of his plight. 

He wandered about the bustling streets for hours, eventually finding an alleyway to curl up in and wait out his hunger pangs. He’d found very little food on the boat, taking what he could from crates and boxes without  much thought, not caring if he was eventually caught. His clothes were dirty and tattered, worn thin and threadbare, his shoes covered in dirt and grime, and he was positively sure he looked absolutely deplorable. Biting his lip against his inevitable tears, he buried his face into his knees,  hugging himself tightly, shivering violently. Sleep seemed like a far off thing,  impossible to come by as his thoughts kept circling around how utterly hopeless he felt, how utterly alone he was.

It wasn’t until several days later that his luck seemed to change, a not so dim light appearing at the end of the tunnel. He'd found a little abandoned warehouse full of art supplies; crates of leftover paint, paint brushes which had certainly seen better days, and canvases, most of which were torn and tattered, but usable nonetheless. 

Marko has gathered up everything he could get his hands on, seeing an opportunity to make some cash, and spent almost the entire day painting whatever came to mind. He was surprised at himself - he didn't remember the last time he painted, but somehow this was different.  Like he was drawing for the first time, like he was creating something entirely new. There was a sense of wonder that he couldn't explain, an awe he hadn't known since childhood. This wasn't about making money. This was about finding himself. 

When he finally emerged from the building, covered head to toe in brightly coloured paint stains and tired from lack of sleep, he decided he might as well try his best at selling what he had created, knowing that nothing else would provide him with any kind of income. It didn't matter that he lacked experience with art, that he was untrained. The paintings were his ticket. The only way out of this misery he lived in. 

And so he set about selling everything he had, working his hardest, desperate to make every penny count. And, boy, did people pay. It was almost comical at how careless the rich were with their money, throwing it at him with no regard as to what it might go towards, as long as they got whatever it was they wanted in return.

Marko was soon able to afford enough money for food and clothes, settling into the little warehouse and sleeping on an old uncomfortable mattress stuffed into one corner, surrounded by crates of paint and brushes.

He took pride in the fact that he had made something of himself, having managed to carve out his own niche with a little bit of paint and a couple of worn out brushes. He felt good about the fact that he had managed to become somebody, somebody who had a purpose, somebody that mattered in the world. 

When he turned 18, Marko took to wandering a little further into the city, searching for inspiration and finding plenty. It became routine for him;  he worked late nights painting whenever he was able, waking up with the sun so that he could spend the morning wandering before returning to paint once more. He sold his creations out on the streets, bought  meals and slept rough. He was happy. He felt complete. He should've been happy, content with his living situations, besides it was more than he'd ever thought he'd have, and yet he still felt as if something was missing. That loneliness still lingered, that hollow feeling that wouldn't go away. 

In November of his third year on the streets, Marko met two men whilst out wandering at night, shaking off the disturbance of a rather unpleasant nightmare. 

The first of the two was blonde, his hair messy in a styled kind of way, with piercing blue eyes and sharp, handsome features. The second was tall with dark hair and a strong jawline, seemingly just as striking as his friend. Both were dressed entirely in black and approached Marko much in the same way a predator would its prey, a smile adorning each of their faces. 

“Can I help you?” Marko asked quietly, his accent thick and heavy, despite his best efforts to hide it. 

The blonde one grinned, “You’re a runaway, aren’t you, kid?”

Marko hesitated for a brief moment, weighing up his options before nodding slowly.

The man reached out a gloved hand, offering to shake, “I’m David.”

“Marko,” Marko replied quietly, shaking his hand.

David nodded, seemingly satisfied. His friend said nothing. “Where are your parents?”

“My mother's dead…” At least that’s what he thought. 

“Your father?” David pressed.

“Dead too…”

“So… it’s just you then?” David questioned, tilting his head slightly. Marko nodded, looking down at the pavement. What did these guys want? Money, drugs, sex? Who knows, but Marko certainly wasn’t too keen on finding out. 

“Hey,” This time, it was  the other man, the brunette one, who reached forward, his hand landing upon Marko's shoulder. “We ain't here to hurt you, kid. We're here to help.”

Help?  Marko furrowed his brow.  “I don't need no help.” “Of course not,” David interjected before the boy could say any more, “But that doesn't mean we can’t offer it. You're young, lost and all alone in this world. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend or two?” 

A friend...  That’s what he’d been seeking, someone to rely on. Someone to show him that he wasn't completely alone in this. But was it really possible for him to turn to these strangers, especially after everything he'd been through so far? Could he trust them? They were probably just playing a trick on him. They'd probably planned to kill him and leave his body somewhere and never bother him again. So why should he believe them?

“Look,” David began, “I know we seem shady, but I promise we'll do nothing to harm you. Right, Dwayne?” 

The brunette nodded. “We just want to help.” 

This was a mistake. These two men could easily kill him, leaving him to die on his own somewhere. Or they could rob him. Or beat him senseless. Either option would be equally horrible.... but something about them told Marko that maybe they were being truthful. Maybe they did actually want to help him.  Maybe they meant what they said, because they weren't bad people.

“... okay…” Marko muttered softly, raising his eyes to meet theirs. 

The two men smiled, sharing glances between each other before turning back to Marko. “Great! Let's get going now shall we?”

Marko stared at them for a while longer,  trying to gauge if they were telling the truth or lying, before nodding slowly and following after them. 

Marko became the third member of Max's family that night, and for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

A/N: This is way longer than I'd expected it to be, and, although it started of a little bit shitty, I think it got better towards the end. As I've said before, this is my own take on things; none of what I have written is canon in any way, shape, or form and is simply a silly little thing I came up with over the x-mas break!

[omgkatherine01]

Fire Of the Dragon: Chapter 2 - Driftmark

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Targaryen reader

Note: Short chapter this time, sorry...

Please comment, like and share ❤

Your mother died a dragonrider's death.

That was Daemon Targaryen told his daughters that night after he returned without Laena by his side.

Visenya, Baela and Rhaena had stayed together the whole night, finding comfort with each other after their mother and unborn sibling's death.

Daemon stayed the whole night with them as the girls cried themselves to sleep.

It had to be a bad dream, Visenya hoped.

But it wasn't.

She and her sisters woke up in a heavy heart.

Their mother wasn't around anymore.

She was dead.

She wasn't coming back.

Laena wasn't there to greet them every morning, giving them kisses on the top of their heads, helping them with their hair, laughing...

She was gone.

Visenya couldn't clear those words from her mind for days. Not when they left Essos.

Not when they reached to Driftmark.

Not while Laena's mother, Rhaenys pulled her and her sisters in a hug to comfort them.

Not in the funeral...

Laena Velaryon was gone.

And she won't return.

At the funeral, Daemon's youngest daughters escaped from his side to be with their grandparents, even if they didn't know them well. Visenya, on the other hand, held on to her father's hand, as she watched Ser Vaemond turn towards Princess Rhaenyra.

She turned to look as well.

Princess Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon, didn't look like Velaryons, like Baela and Rhaena did. Nor like Visenya. They looked nothing like their father, or their mother for that matter.

When Vaemond bashed how Velaryon blood was true and old, everyone looked at Rhaenyra and Visenya's father had laughed, taken away the attention.

After the funeral, Daemon took Visenya with him to the balcony where everyone were eating and drinking, remembering Laena as Baela and Rhaena sat on a bench.

"How long are we going to be here?" Visenya asked softly.

Daemon looked down at her and leaned against the wall. "A couple of days, perhaps. However, your grandparents wish for us to stay a little longer. I'll find us somewhere to stay."

Visenya nodded lightly and glanced around. She straighten up when she saw Queen Alicent approaching them with her knight, Ser Criston Cole trailing behind her.

Daemon followed her gaze and his jaw clenched by the sight of his good-sister. "My Prince," the queen greeted and her eyes landed down at his daughter. "Princess Visenya."

Visenya bowed softly, "Your Grace." Alicent's eyes soften more, and she smiled softly, "How you have grown." She looked from her to Daemon, "I am very sorry for your loss."

Daemon gave a small hum and Ser Criston clenched his jaw. Visenya looked from her father to the Queen, "Thank you, Your Grace," she said softly.

Alicent placed her hands on Visenya's arms, "My daughter, Helaena, is around your age, you used to share a nursery when you were at the Keep."

Visenya looked toward three of the four children of the Queen. Aegon had been few years older, but much taller, and Helaena was looking through the stones for bugs while Aemond stood with his brother.

"I shall say hello to her, Your Grace," Visenya said as she looked at the Queen. Alicent smiled softly and gave a small nod. With that, Visenya bowed to her and glanced at her father before she walked toward the princes and princess.

Helaena was looking at what seemed to be a spider, speaking in riddles. Aegon groaned and walked away from them all as he looked at Helaena.

She cleared her throat and he turned to her, standing straight. "Hello," she said, deciding to turn to Aemond since Helaena seemed to be occupied.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Visenya," Visenya introduced herself.

Aemond gave a small nod, "Aemond," he said looking a little cautious. His nephews and big brother had not been good company over the years in his childhood, he had been the butt of their pranks and jokes simply for not having a dragon, he didn’t want to add another person to that.

"You're Prince Daemon's daughter, aren't you?" Aemond asked.

Visenya nodded, "And you're the King's son, so it makes us cousins."

The roar of Vhagar was suddenly heard and everyone looked up to see the large dragon interrupting everyone's thoughts. "She's mourning," Visenya said. "Vhagar."

"Is she yours now?" Aemond asked.

Visenya shook her head, "No, I... I do not have a dragon, to be honest," she said sadly.

Aemond seemed surprise, "You too?" he asked quietly.

Visenya nodded, "I guess you do have one as well?" Aemond shook his head, "Do you want to claim Vhagar?" he asked, wondering why she wouldn't have claimed such a mighty dragon.

Visenya shrugged lightly, "I didn't felt it was right to claim her right after she lost her rider. My mother. Step-mother, to be honest," she confessed, "And my father didn't let me get near Vhagar since mother died, so..."

Aemond nodded and looked down before at her, "I, uh, I'm sorry, about..."

Visenya nodded, and gave him a small smile, "Thank you," she said softly.

They heard Daemon calling for Visenya and she turned back to Aemond, promising they would speak later. Aemond nodded and watched her go back to her father's side before looking out to the shores.

Taglist:

@parkchaeyoung1997, @alwaysholymilkshake, @holb32, @zoleea-exultant, @ladybug0095, @froobiefroob

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 19

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but somewhere around 7am Lena drifted into a light doze and lingered there, halfway between sleep and waking, until she felt Kara stir against her side an hour later. A sleep-heavy arm was draped across her waist, and Kara burrowed her shoulder softly, only half-way conscious of her surroundings. Then, as if suddenly remembering that snuggling was not in their usual friendship repertoire, she stilled.

‘Hey.’

Lena turned her head on the pillow to meet Kara’s gaze, finding her sleep rumpled and bleary eyed, her cheek creased with pillow lines and hair mussed into a tangle that caught the early morning sun like a halo of gold around her face. She looked so soft and cuddly like this that it made Lena’s breath catch, as the knowledge of what it would be like to wake up with Kara (not just beside her, but with Kara) hit her squarely in the chest.

‘Good morning...’

For a few indulgent heartbeats she let herself imagine pulling Kara in close for a morning cuddle while she was still all snuggly and drowsy like this. Kissing the golden tangle of her hair, then tilting her chin up to kiss her lips…

She pulled back from the thought before it could travel any further along this dangerous, tantalising road and stretched, the movement causing Kara to shift away just enough to allow Lena to think about something other than how cute she looked when she had just woken up.

‘How are you feeling today? Any bad dreams?’

‘Nope. I thought I would have, but I guess I felt safe with you being here... Thanks for looking after me last night.’

‘Always.’

The word slipped out so naturally that it was a moment before Lena realised everything it implied. Always. Not just until Kara’s memories were back. Not just if they worked out their differences and found a way to be together afterwards. No matter how bitterly they might fight, if Kara truly needed her she knew now that she would be there. Always.

‘So, what do you need today to help you start to recover?’

‘Huh? What do you mean recover? I’m not sick!’

Kara sounded genuinely puzzled, as if she hadn’t been caught in the grips of a terror so strong that she had barely been able to perceive her surroundings a few hours earlier. Lena answered carefully, not sure if Kara was just trying to put the whole experience behind her, and not wanting to push her too far if she wasn’t ready to engage with it.

‘No, I know you’re not sick, but last night was pretty traumatic for you, so I thought you might need a bit of support to deal with that...’

Before she was even done Kara was laughing, waving the suggestion away as if she had implied she might need to go to the ER for a scraped knee.

‘Oh, that! Lena, that was just a panic attack. I told you, I get them sometimes when I get claustrophobic, it’s not a big deal. I’m totally fine now. No more tight space, no more panic. Simple!’

‘Just a panic attack? Kara, you were petrified. And what you told me about the dream you had… it seemed a lot more that.’

She shrugged. ‘Okay, so I guess I panic big, I don’t know. I’m fine now though.’

‘Do you remember what happened in the dream journey with Nia?’

‘Sure. I tried to crawl through a tunnel and it was really small, and I got kind of claustrophobic. I guess I must have been breathing fast or something because you noticed and woke me up, and then I cried on you a bit, and then we went to bed. I’m sorry if asking you to stay over made it seem like a bigger deal than it was – it was just nice to have someone else here is all.’

While Kara’s version of events could loosely have been said to have described what happened the night before, it did not at all tally with the intensity Lena remembered. So how was Kara talking about it so casually? How did she seem so completely unaffected mere hours after coming out of the most horrific confrontation of every moment of pain and terror Supergirl had ever faced?

Oh.

Every terror Supergirl had faced.

Could it be that what Kara had experienced in the dream-space was close enough to being a Kryptonian memory that her mind had rejected it, to be replaced with the much more every day human explanation of a claustrophobic panic attack? Lex’s barrier was clever, she had to give him that. Twisted, cruel and evil, but clever. To get back to herself Kara would have to break through all of that pain and fear in a single push, or every failed attempt would simply add another layer to the wall between her human and kryptonian memories.

She reached up a hand to rub at her temple, trying to puzzle it all through and come up with a way their new insight might help them beat this, but as soon as the covers fell away Kara gasped.

‘Your arms! Oh my god, did someone hurt you? Who did this?’

Lena looked down at her own arms to see that the bruises that had been starting to surface the evening before had turned dark over night, blooming into a vivid purple-pansy ring around each forearm, ugly and shocking against her pale skin.

‘Oh. No, no one, it’s nothing Kara.’

She tried to tuck them back out of sight under the covers, but Kara didn’t let her. She pulled the blankets right off her so she could see properly, sucking air through her teeth in a pained hiss as the undeniable evidence came back into view.

‘It’s not nothing, you’re covered in bruises…’

Kara took hold of the arm closest to her very gently, cradling it with one hand and tracing over the marks on her inner forearm with the other. Her touch was so feather-light it was barely there, and yet it made Lena shiver at the unexpected intimacy of the contact against such a sensitive part of her skin.

‘They’re finger marks, what-’

Then the realisation hit her, and Kara let go of her immediately, looking like she might be sick.

‘Oh. Oh Lena. I grabbed your arms last night. Did I do this to you?’

‘No… well… not really. It’s not as bad as it looks.’

‘I did. I hurt you. Oh God, I am so, so, so sorry, I can’t believe I did that to you. How could I have done that?’

Kara looked down at her own hands as if they didn’t belong to her, holding them away from her body like she might be able to detach them altogether for daring to harm Lena, no matter that it had been accidental and in the midst of visceral panic. Lena reached out to gather them into her own and pressed them gently, just barely resisting the temptation to give them an absolving kiss.

‘Darling, it’s truly fine. It wasn’t your fault, it’s just the way I’m built – my skin marks if my bra’s too tight, let alone at a firm hold. I know it looks bad, but it doesn’t even hurt, and it was a total accident. There’s nothing to feel sorry about.’

It wasn’t true that Lena bruised particularly easily, or that the marks didn’t hurt. But it was a kind lie, and one that Kara needed right now, because without remembering how bad her fear had truly been she had no other way of rationalising to herself how this had happened.

Kara was still staring at the livid marks as if she could feel the pain of them on her own skin, her telltale worry-crinkle clearly in evidence between her eyebrows, though she looked a tiny bit less sick.

‘Kara, if it was the other way round and I had accidentally bruised you, would you be mad at me for it?’

‘Well no, of course not. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.’

‘Exactly. So please stop worrying.’

The crinkle smoothed out, mostly.

‘At least let me make you breakfast to make up for it?’

Lena relaxed, glad to be back on safe ground.

‘Breakfast would be great. What were you thinking of making?’

‘I actually don’t have that much in so we may be a tiny bit limited on choice until I next have a chance to go grocery shopping... But I could do pancakes?’

‘Sure, I’m up for pancakes.’

‘Awesome, I am amazing at pancakes.’

The regret was still there beneath the layer of determined cheer, but after another glance down at the purple marks Kara tore her eyes away and met Lena’s with something approaching her usual sunny smile.

‘One short stack coming right up.’

Kara headed straight to the kitchen without bothering to change or try to tame the wild lion’s mane of her hair after a night of unsettled sleep, and it felt so incredibly domestic that Lena was momentarily incapacitated by the wave of melancholy longing that swept over her at the sight. This could have been her life. Maybe, if she had done things differently from the beginning, or if Kara had, this could have been what she woke up to every morning.

Lena allowed herself a few moments to wallow in the bittersweet ache of the thought, then she pulled herself together and got up, pausing only to grab the robe from the back of the bedroom door on her way out. She wanted to cover up the bruises on her arms so that Kara would stop looking at her like she thought she had broken her, and could always claim to be cold if asked. Right now Lena didn’t want to think about anything more than Saturday morning pancakes. Saturday morning pancakes, and making Kara’s smile reach her eyes.

There would be time enough time later to worry about everything else.

‘I don’t have any packet mix so I’m going to go from scratch. Six eggs is enough, right?’

‘Six? That is way too many eggs Kara!’

‘Are you sure?’

Lena rolled her eyes and hurried through to join Kara in the kitchen before she could use up an entire carton of eggs on pancakes for two people. Kara Danvers was many wonderful things, but an accomplished chef was not one of them.

She arrived to find that in the minute or so she had been out of sight, Kara had already tipped half a packet of flour and a lake of milk into a large mixing bowl, and was now merrily cracking eggs on top with far more enthusiasm than finesse, though she did fish out the bits of shell that fell into the mixture before she started stirring.

‘Exactly how many pancakes were you planning on making?’

‘I’m hungry! And there’s no such thing as too many pancakes.’

‘Okay… well why don’t you at least let me help you with that?’

She held out her hand for the bowl, but Kara hugged it to her chest with one arm and tried to shoo her away with the other.

‘Nope, absolutely not. I’m making you breakfast, remember? That was the deal. You can go and relax, I’ll let you know when they’re done.’

‘If I’m not allowed to help, can’t I just stay here and talk to you while you’re working?’

At least that way she would be close enough to head off any major crises.

And she’d get to watch Kara being an adorable disaster.

‘Okay, you can stay, but no helping. If you so much as try to wash a dish I am banishing you to the couch.’

‘Duly noted, I will be the most useless, in the way visitor ever to grace your kitchen.’

‘That’s all I ask.’

Kara did her best to stir the over-filled bowl of batter, but it wasn’t combining properly, the mixture staying resolutely lumpy under her whisk.

‘I’m going to get the electric mixer. I’m putting the bowl down, but don’t stir it.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

That promise became harder to keep when Kara started trying to fit together the electric mixer. It was clearly not an appliance she used very often, and it took her a good five minutes to track down the right attachments and work out how to slot them into the machine. All the while Lena stood a pace behind her, biting her lip to keep from offering to take over (after all, if there was one thing Lena Luthor was good at, it was figuring out machines). She held out for what felt to her like an extremely respectable amount of time, but at last she couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Kara, couldn’t I just-’

‘Nope! And that’s your second warning Ms Luthor, one more and you’re benched.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Afraid so. You looked after me last night, so now I’m looking after you, no arguments.’

So she let Kara bash away at the mixer and instead leaned back against the counter to watch her. She had to admit, much as she adored Kara dorky and sweet, she liked her assertive too. It was… appealing (it was attractive). Kara had pushed the sleeves of her pajamas up above her elbows, and in spite of her fumbling there was an assurance in the way she moved, forearms flexing as she tilted the mixer this way and that to find the space where the paddle slotted. She somehow managed to look competent and strong even as she made a mess of a simple kitchen task, and Lena was almost disappointed when the job was finished and Kara stood back triumphantly, holding out her hand for the mixing bowl. Lena passed it over, stepped close to witness the moment of triumph.

With a quick flick, Kara turned the dial up to full power, and the mixer whirred abruptly into life, its not-quite-fully-submerged whisk attachment hitting the edge of the off-centre bowl with an angry clatter that set the whole thing wobbling alarmingly. With the whisk now hitting it side-on, the batter surged up over the tilted edge in a wave, coating the table, the floor and both of them with a generous spattering of raw mixture.

‘Argh!’

Lena leaned over to yank the plug form the wall, wondering if this would count as ‘helping’ and get her banished, but it seemed that stopping a tidal wave of pancake batter from engulfing the entire kitchen was allowed.

‘Sorrysorryssorry! I can’t believe I just did that. Oh look at you, you’re covered.’

Kara passed over a clean dish towel, and Lena used it to wipe the worst of the batter off her face with a rueful little laugh.

‘At least you made plenty of extra, so we can afford to lose a bit.’

‘That is a very generous way of looking at the fact that I just half drowned you in goop. Are you sure you don’t want to go and sit over there, out of the splash zone?’

‘Nope, we’re in this together now. Besides, I think that’s the riskiest part done with. What’s left looks pretty well mixed.’

‘It had better be. No way I’m turning that thing on again.’

The remainder of the process actually went comparatively smoothly, and after another quick stir with a regular whisk Kara fried the first pancake without incident (wisely opting to turn it using a spatula rather than attempting to toss it, though she had looked briefly tempted). Once it was an even golden brown she tipped it carefully onto a plate, added a knob of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup, then handed it to Lena with a flourish.

‘Voila, breakfast is served!’

Lena took the offered plate while Kara poured a second ladleful of mixture into the pan, and examined it. It actually did look very pancake-like. If she hadn’t been here to watch the process, she would never have known that Kara didn’t make them every weekend.

Then she took her first bite.

...And immediately ran to the trash can to spit it out.

‘Oh my god. Kara what did you put in these?’

Kara looked surprised, and a bit hurt.

‘Nothing! I mean, nothing weird, I followed the recipe. Is it really that bad?’

‘Try it.’

Kara took the fork from her and cut herself a bite of pancake. Lena watched her as the syrup hit her tongue and Kara shrugged at her, not getting it. Then she chewed, choked, and rushed to spit the mouthful back out just as Lena had.

‘OH MY GOD.’

‘What is that?’

‘It is the worst thing I have ever put in my mouth.’

Despite the lingering bitter taste on her own tongue, Lena couldn’t help smirking at Kara’s disgusted expression. She was staring at the pancake as if she couldn’t believe that something that was meant to be so delicious could betray her like this.

‘But I followed the recipe!’

‘Is there any chance that you might have mistaken a tbsp for a tsp when you were measuring the baking powder?’

Kara looked crestfallen for a moment, then sheepish.

‘Um… well that would be a really stupid mistake to make. I don’t think that sounds like something I would do... Maybe the flour’s out of date or something?’

‘Mmhmm, that sounds plausible.’

‘Extremely plausible.’

‘So… you’re amazing at pancakes?’

‘I did say that, didn’t I? Well. I’m amazing at eating pancakes. I kind of assumed that that would translate to making them better than it did.’

She wasn’t sure which of them broke first, but in another moment they were both laughing, clinging to each other for support as they took in the total disaster of Kara’s culinary efforts. It was at this precise moment that they were interrupted by the sound of a key in the door, followed quickly by the appearance of Alex, laden down with a large paper bag and a cardboard tray of coffee cups.

‘Hey, I thought I’d drop round and check how you... were… doing?’

Her gentle ‘talking to an invalid’ tone petered out into a question mark as she came in further and caught sight of them, still arm in arm and grinning at each other like idiots amidst the mess of their attempted pancakes.

‘Um. WHAT is happening.’

‘Alex, hey! Come join us!’

‘Yes Alex, come and try one of these delicious pancakes Kara made.’

Beside her Kara cracked up all over again, and Alex’s eyebrows shot up at this further irrefutable proof of her sister so clearly not having a post trauma breakdown. She mouthed a silent ‘what??’ at Lena, but there was no way for her to explain in front of Kara, and she just shrugged helplessly while Kara nudged her playfully in the ribs for her suggestion.

‘DO NOT try the pancakes. They were… not my best effort.’

‘Yeah I see that… what happened?’

‘Kara didn’t let me help, that’s what happened.’

‘I wanted to make you breakfast!’

Alex shook her head at both of them, like a half exasperated, half amused adult walking in on a pair of children getting into mischief.

‘Well, you sure made something. Luckily for you guys I am the best sister ever, and I brought bagels. I thought you might not be up for much cooking after last night. And apparently I was right, even if not in the way I expected.’

‘After last night? Lena! You tattled on me to my big sister??’

‘Oh. I…um...’

Kara didn’t sound seriously angry, but Lena felt her cheeks heating all the same. Because yes, she had told Alex about Kara’s melt down. Of course she had. And worse, they regularly talked about how Kara was doing in much more detail than she would normally consider acceptable to discuss a mutual friend behind her back, but… they had to. If they were going to help her get her memories back, they had to talk about how she was dealing with their treatment attempts in order to move forwards. When Kara knew the full story she would understand that, but there was no way to fully explain now, especially when she had so completely recategorised last night in her mind.

However, Alex thankfully jumped in to let Lena off the hook before the silence could get too awkward.

‘Nia called me after she left. She said you seemed pretty upset, and was worried you’d be cross with her for asking you to do the dream journey.’

‘Oh no, poor Nia, of course I’m not cross with her! I’d better call her after breakfast… it must have looked scary to her, but it was seriously no big deal, it was just the old claustrophobia thing and I had a panic attack. It was nothing. Right Lena?’

Both Danvers sisters turned to Lena, and, not knowing what else to do, she nodded.

‘Sure... Kara, is something burning?’

‘Argh I forgot the second pancake!’

Kara ran back to the stove and switched it off, then went to open a window to let out the smoke that was billowing up from the charred remains of attempt number two. Lena took the opportunity to shake her head quickly and mouthed ‘later’ at Alex, trying to convey that there was more to the story, but it would have to wait until they could talk privately. Alex gave a brisk little nod of understanding, then put the subject aside as she came over to deposit her bag and cups on the cleanest bit of table she could find.

‘Okay, who wants bagels? Lena, I pegged you for a smoked salmon and cream cheese kinda gal, but I also have an everything with everything, a cinnamon raisin or a peanut butter chocolate chip.’

‘The salmon will be fine, thank you.’

‘Cool. Kara, I got the everything and the peanut butter chocolate with you in mind, but I don’t mind switching if you want cinnamon raisin.’

‘Nope I’m happy. We should probably clean up a little in here first though, if the batter dries it’s going to be impossible to get it off.’

Alex looked around, taking in the full extent of the mess with a low whistle.

‘You are not wrong, this place is a wreck. And did you pour a ladle full directly over Lena’s chest? How do you even get that much batter down the front of a robe by accident?’

Lena glanced down at herself and discovered that Alex had a point. Clearly when Kara had turned on the electric mixer she had been more directly in the splatter zone than she had realised, and now kind of looked as though she had thrown up all over herself. Even though she knew she hadn’t, the thought was unpleasant enough that she immediately shrugged out of the soiled robe, intending to rinse off the worst of the floury paste before it had a chance to harden or clog up Kara’s washing machine, but Alex didn’t move out of the way of the sink to let her.

She was staring at Lena with a look of incredulous delight.

‘Oh my god.’

‘What?’

‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.’

Then Lena remembered her pink and white marshmallow pajamas, and winced.

‘Do not.’

‘I can’t help it. You look like one of those valentines candy hearts.’

‘They’re Kara’s. I didn’t exactly come round prepared to stay over and I had to borrow something to sleep in.’

Alex wasn’t listening, too caught up in her utter glee over what she was seeing.

‘Like a little puff of cotton candy! Can I please please take your photo like this??’

‘Absolutely NOT.’

‘Oh go on. I want to set it to pop up whenever you call me.’

‘That’s it, I’m getting dressed.’

‘It’s too late now, I’ve seen it. Next time you go all scary-Lena I’m just going to picture you in your jammies with pancake batter smeared on your cheeks.’

Lena fled the room before Alex could whip out her phone to take the threatened photo, but she could still hear the sound of her cackling even once the bathroom door was firmly closed behind her, as well as Kara’s more quietly amused admonishments to her sister.

She was never going to live this down.

[mode-lfy]

A/n: I wrote this relatively quick, so hopefully you don’t mind any errors found in this oneshot and enjoy the story.

It started off as a joke, Y/n asking for Minju’s number after class. They were in the same university class and Y/n’s friends dared him to ask for her number and ask her out.

One thing after another, they dated and things got further down the road when one night, Y/n invited Minju to his room and they did the deed that night.

Over the course of their final year, they continued studying together and making love. When Minju revealed she was pregnant, Y/n promised to take responsibility and marry her, taking care of her and the baby…

They continued to study together, while Minju struggled with the troubles of pregnancy, Y/n was there to take care of her.

As Y/n graduated with honors, Minju did as well but didn’t want to attend her graduation ceremony as she had a big tummy. She felt embarrassed.

Y/n went home and took graduation pictures with her, kissing her pregnant tummy.

When Minju gave birth to a baby girl, Y/n was so happy and proud to be a father.

However that’s when the troubles continued.

There were countless times where the baby would wake up in the middle of the night and start crying, ruining their sleep.

Who knew being a parent was hard…. Y/n thought.

They had both agreed that Y/n would go out and work while Minju stayed at home to take care of the family and house.

And when the baby gets a little older, Minju would go out and work too.

Even when Y/n wanted to have some private sweet time with Minju, they would be interrupted halfway by the baby’s crying and Minju would quickly rush to the baby, taking care of her.

Y/n would come home after a long day at work, tired and wanting to sleep but always get woken up by the baby.

Even when Minju tries to comfort him by cuddling with him and spending time, it still annoys him a little.

This went on for years.

When the baby turned 5, the girl could walk by herself and talk but she would always ask for their attention. Even continuing to wake her parents up at night often or early in the morning.

One day, Y/n had enough.

He considered leaving Minju and the girl.

Minju was heartbroken and cried when Y/n told her that he wanted to leave.

“I will come by every week and send you money. I… I’m sorry.” Y/n said as he packed his belongings in a luggage.

Then Minju wiped her tears and stood strong.

“Don’t tell our girl that you want to leave.” Minju said, looking away from him.

When Y/n took his luggage and walked out of the room, his daughter came running to him.

“Appa!” The girl shouted and clinging onto his leg.

Y/n felt hesitant but squatted down to her level and hugged her.

“Appa, where are you going?” She asked, looking at his luggage.

“Ah, I’m going to buy some things, I will be buying alot of things so I’m bringing all these.” Y/n explained, lying to his daughter while Minju looked from inside the room, holding her tears.

“When you come home, can you bring me a present? I will wait for you to come home!” His daughter said, cheerful and unknown to the situation.

Y/n looked at her daughter’s eyes, unsure what to answer. He didn’t want to lie to her.

Then Minju came out and pulled their daughter away from Y/n, “I think you should get going. Say bye to your father.” Minju told her daughter.

As Y/n carried his luggage out the door, he looked back to see Minju crying silently and his daughter waving at him happily.

When Y/n closed the doors and left, he thought to himself. “This is the time… it’s a chance for me to start anew.”

As he walked through the streets, he looked at a 7-11 store and saw a kid with his parents together, happy and laughing as they handed him an ice cream.

He walked away, ignoring whatever thoughts that popped up in his mind.

When Y/n moved back to his parents house that day, his parents were so relieved to have him back and hugged him.

Y/n couldn’t speak to them and decided to take a walk at a nearby mall.

There, whenever he saw a little kid, he kept getting reminded of his own daughter.

He walked into a toy store and was stopped by a salesperson. “How may I help you?” The kind middle aged woman asked.

“Uhm, I am just looking by.” Y/n said.

“Sure, take a look! We have many toy sections!” She said warmly.

Y/n looked around and saw many children running around with their parents, all of them smiling and clinging to their parents.

Y/n couldn’t bear the sight and walked out, sitting on a bench.

He thought of the memories that he had shared with Minju and his daughter.

He remembered when his daughter first started walking on her own, he was so proud and was crying when she walked to him and hugged him.

He remembered when he first made love to Minju, it was a special memory for them, leading to this moment for them.

He remembered when his daughter spoke her first words, then when she called him Appa, and Minju Eomma. They both cried tears of joy, and held each other’s hand.

He remembered Minju told him she was pregnant, they both were anxious but when they called down and decided to keep the baby and stay together. They were happy and believed in a future together.

Y/n put his face in his hands, ashamed of what he had done. How could he have abandoned Minju and his daughter at this time!?!? Not when they need him!

He went to the toy store and asked the sales lady for a toy befitting a little girl.

“I think you can get this! A house playing set with some dolls included.” She recommended it.

“Sure I will get this then!” He said, excited and paying for it before running back home.

His items were barely unpacked, Y/n just put everything back into his luggage and bid farewell to his parents.

“I’m sorry, Appa, Eomma. But I can’t abandon Minju and my daughter like that, I have to be a man for them. A husband for Minju and a father for my daughter!” He said before leaving.

When he arrived under the apartment, he felt nervous. What if… Minju asked him to get lost!?!

“Get lost!” Minju shouted and slapped him. While his daughter watches from behind her.

He got rid of the thought and knocked on the door.

His palms were sweating and rubbing at his pants, trying to calm himself down.

When Minju opened the door, she was confused but Y/n quickly pushed in his luggage and got in.

His daughter quickly ran over to hug him.

“Appa, you are back!” She shouted, as Y/n carried her up.

“Yes, I’m back.” Y/n said, looking at Minju and mouthing the word. “Sorry…”

Minju felt comforted and joined in their hug.

“I got you a present!” Y/n said, putting down his daughter and taking out the house playing set he had bought.

“Thank you!” His daughter shouted, smiling as she held onto the set.

“I will forever be here for you and our daughter…” Y/n said, hugging on to Minju as their daughter ran to her room to play with her new toys.

“I’m sorry that I even thought of leaving.” Y/n said, to which Minju hushed him.

“At least you are back.” Minju kissed him.

“Appa, Eomma. Can you come and play with me!” Their daughter came out running to them.

Minju and Y/n both smiled at each other

[ggukkiedae]

another confidant

date: april 2018

warning/s: insecure thoughts

notes from c: anything spoken in italics is spoken in english, just some soft jaehyun getting a look into the way hannah’s mind works for today 🥰 and ctto for the gif, it’s not mine i found it on pinterest

i’m literally gonna be watching nct nation in like 30 minutes! so a little post to celebrate that 🥰

word count: 1.5k

in which hannah’s solo date becomes a vent-to-jaehyun dinner

Hannah found herself plopping down onto the ground and groaning out loud as soon as Taeyong called for the end of their practice. They had been going at it for the whole day, not to mention the practice she had with 127 earlier that morning for Chain… Wow. She was actually working on a 127 thing outside of NCT 2018. She really is part of 127. 

A deep chuckle together with a hand tickling her stomach brought her back to reality. Instinctively, she swatted the hand away and rolled back over her head. Once she was sat up, she gave a glare to Jaehyun who simply shrugged. 

“For someone who wants to die, you sure have a lot of energy,” Ten shook his head at her and offered her a hand up. 

“Oh, you and I both know who really wants me to die,” a half-bitter chuckle escaped her as she remembered a few of the comments she received about her joining 127. This statement caused multiple heads to turn towards her in worry, which, in turn, was amusing enough to her but eye-roll inducing. “Would you guys relax? I’m out of my emo phase about this, don’t worry.”

“I gave her cuddles last night, so she’s good,” Jaehyun’s dimples popped out as he handed her a water bottle. “Cuddles that she asked for, if I may add.”

Hannah smacked the 97 liner’s arm as a bunch of cries of disbelief rose from the rest of the members. Surprisingly, or not, a few of the older members suddenly gained energy once again and started coming at Hannah for not being affectionate with them. Both physically and verbally. 

The British girl burst into laughter as she ran away from Johnny, Ten, Yuta, and Taeyong started chasing her around their practice room. When the other members said that they’d try to not treat her too much like a girl to not make her feel out of place, she didn’t think that would mean getting smothered with affection. In all honesty, she wasn’t prepared when members outside of Donghyuck, Jaemin, Kun, Johnny, and Jaehyun all started attempting to coddle her. She wasn’t used to it. She was used to coddling her two maknaes, not the other way around. 

But they had all made it clear after the whole no-sleep fiasco that they were going to baby her to the best of their capabilities. When she tried to get Taeyong to talk them out of it, he pulled the “you’re-the-third-youngest-member” card and laughed it off. 

Coming back to the present time, she felt someone grab her around the waist. It was Johnny, if his laughter wasn’t anything to tell by. Her face lit up as she remembered something that Yoonmi had taught her before. With some hesitation, she hooked her leg around Johnny’s leg and pulled forward until he was on the ground, her on top of him and somehow effectively pinning him down. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing. 

Jisung’s voice was the one that broke the silence. “Did noona just… throw Johnny hyung to the ground?”

“Yes, she did,” Jeno smiled. 

“This is rich,” Donghyuck’s snickers filled the room. “I can’t believe you actually used what Yoonmi taught you and made it work.”

Hannah shrugged her shoulders and got off of a still-in-shock Johnny while dusting off her hands. “Once I tried it on Jungkook oppa, I became pretty confident in doing it on anyone no matter their strength or size. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner plans to go to.”

She picked up her bag and walked out the door, laughing as Donghyuck called for her to bring food home. Right, he was spending the night in her and Mark’s place. Just like he’s been doing every other night for weeks now. 

Footsteps caught up with her, catching her attention and making her glance back. Jaehyun had caught up to her and thrown an arm around her shoulders. 

“Hey, princess.”

“You know,” she laughed at him, “the others have started calling me princess because of you.”

“I’m the original,” he grinned, leaning his head a little closer to hers teasingly. “Mind telling me who you’re having dinner with?”

She rolled her eyes fondly at Jaehyun’s casual attempt of being protective. “Myself, actually. I read about this new restaurant opening up nearby, and I wanted to try the food out for myself before I recommend it to anyone.”

With one look at Jaehyun’s growing smile, Hannah knew he was going to start persuading her to let him come with her. Before he could say anything, she let out a groan and shrugged his arm off her shoulder.

Jaehyun was left watching her back as she walked away, unsure of what just happened. Once she was right in front of the elevators, she pressed the button, turned around, and looked at the 97 liner with a raised eyebrow.

“You coming?”

With a grin, Jaehyun made his way over to her. The elevator doors opened just as he got there. “I knew you loved me.”

She just scoffed, hiding her smile at the chance to bond with one of her new members. “You get fifteen minutes to shower. Meet me in our dorm building’s lobby after.

They accidentally matched outfits, much to Jaehyun’s delight. The moment she saw his pastel blue hoodie and white sweats, she made to get back into the elevator, but Jaehyun snickered at her and pulled her out of the dorm building.

That’s how she found herself seated in the corner booth of a new restaurant, aggressively stabbing the carrots in her dish and dropping them on the spare plate she had requested.

“Hannah,” Jaehyun watched her amusedly while taking some of her pasta with the carrot slice and eating it, “it isn’t so bad.”

She scrunched her nose at him. “The pasta isn’t bad, but who in their right mind puts carrot slices on pasta? Carrots are only good for carrot cakes, and you can’t even taste or feel them in those!”

Jaehyun chuckled and switched their plates, placing his creamy lemon chicken in front of her. “Eat that. You need protein to build up the strength if you’re going to have the complete NCT schedule like Mark and Haechan.”

“Don’t remind me,” she puts some of the chicken on the spare plate and pushed it closer to the boy in front of her. “After Chain, we have our last Dream Comeback with Mark. Have you heard the title song?”

“Not yet,” he gave her a look, “you’re not stressing yourself out, are you?”

For a while, all Jaehyun got from her in response was silence.

Hannah never really understood why the older members, especially recently, have been telling her to not stress herself out. In her point of view, stress was a normal part of the industry. If you weren’t getting stressed out, then didn’t that mean you didn’t care? 

If anything, everything that she went through the past few months made her believe that to a greater degree. She cared a lot. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun lightly knocked on the table in front of her, “thoughts out of your head and into our conversation, please.”

She composed herself. “Right, sorry. I am kinda stressing myself, but I don’t want anything I do to be half-assed, you know?”

He looked at her with curiosity. “How so?”

“I just feel like I wouldn’t be giving it my all if I wasn’t at least a little bit stressed. I care about my work and my performance, and I want it to show. I don’t know if it does.”

The older boy gave her a smile. “It does.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Jaehyun just shook his head, “You’ll never feel like it does because you’re always going to want to pick yourself apart to become better. Trust me when I say this, we all see how much you love this job and how you’re constantly improving.”

She poked at the food on her plate once again, although softly this time, lacking the violence she did it with earlier. She didn’t know if she wanted to believe Jaehyun’s words, but they sounded nice coming from him—someone who saw her work behind the scenes with fresh eyes. Should she take the benefit of her doubt and believe? 

She snorted a little and looked down at her plate, not wanting to spiral into a number of “what ifs” running through her head again. It wasn’t worth it, it always took a lot longer to get things done when she spiralled. Instead, she decided to lift the mood a little bit.

Noticing the food on her plate somehow successfully separated completely between the rice and the meat, she looked up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “It’s what I get for being a virgo, I guess.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you don’t believe me,” Jaehyun poked her cheek, “but I’ll let it slide for now. Hey, how do those astrology things work, anyway?”

Hannah excitedly launched into an explanation of astrology in a mix of English and Korean, one unrelated thought echoing in her head. 

Thank god that Jaehyun wasn’t only someone she felt she could talk to, but that he was also someone who knew when not to press.

taglist: @1-800-enhypennabi @strwberrydinosaur @sunflower-0180 @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @world-full-of-roses

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu

Chapter Thirty : Teenage Kicks

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI

A/N: I had a few people message about a taglist, and since I'm the stupidest person alive I totally forgot who asked and now can't find your names to tag. So if you want to be added to a taglist, please message me again so I can add y'all <3

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

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May 24th, 1977

Emmeline had broken up with Sirius after his refusal to apologize for not celebrating Valentine’s Day, not that he minded in the slightest. The rest of the group was so elated by her absence, that they even briefly discussed throwing a party in honor of it (Lily shut down the idea for being “a tad too cruel” for her liking). They all quickly fell back into the old routine of eating meals together in the Great Hall (sans vigorous public displays of affection), only with a new seating change. Sirius sat beside her for every meal now, hand on her knee underneath the table, a silent reassurance between them both that he was there, and that she was safe. She was done fighting the feelings between them, letting Sirius be as close as he wanted, and he seemed to never want to be more than an arms-length away. 

In a sick parallel of events, she began to have nightmares, recognizing them as the similar trauma-induced ones Sirius had endured. Not one to broadcast her own issues, she kept the problem under wraps and suffered in silence. Each night became the same routine of silencing charms and attempts to lull herself to sleep wrapped in the soft gold sheets of her bed. When she did finally slip into a dream, they were never good. Flashes of dark forest, vicious hands with bloodied nails coming to tear at her flesh, sinister laughter at her cries. When she’d jolt awake mid-scream, face wet with tears, she could still feel their bruising grip. After a few weeks of sleepless nights she became a zombie, trudging through the motions of the day with deep circles under both eyes. Sirius noticed quickly, having spent years in the same predicament. He cornered her one morning after breakfast, pulling her into an alcove just beyond the main staircase.

“How bad is it?” His intense stare made her squirm against the wall. She began to fidget, not daring to look him directly in the eye.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

He leaned closer, arms caging her in as he rested both hands beside her head, “You’re a shit liar, have you seen yourself? You look like a ghost. I know you’re not sleeping, so tell me.”

Slowly, she dragged her tired eyes up to his. Though his words were direct, his face was soft and kind, gaze full of careful concern. Sirius brushed a hand down her hair as she finally cracked.

“I keep seeing it. Over and over again, every night. I don’t know how to stop it…” She wanted to cry, but no tears would come; she was too exhausted. 

“Oh love,” Sirius kissed her forehead, pulling her in close, “We’ll fix it. Come to the tower tonight, we’ll figure something out.”

She didn’t want to tell the others, not about the terrors, not about the incident, not about…whatever it was her and Sirius were doing, so she crept up to Gryffindor Tower under the cover of darkness with the help of the map Sirius had slipped to her that afternoon. James and Peter slept like the dead, so the creak of the dormitory door wouldn’t wake them. Remus however, was a wildcard, and she prayed that he hadn’t heard the relatively loud groan that occurred as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. Pausing to listen to anyone stirring, she continued to tip-toe towards Sirius’ bed, slipping through the curtains to find him lounging against his headboard waiting for her. Upon seeing her face, Sirius opened his arms in silent invitation, and she quietly climbed across to fall into his comforting embrace. When she woke up the next morning, it had taken a few moments to realize she had slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

Most (if not all) nights were now spent sneaking into Sirius’ bed after the other three boys had gone to sleep, slipping out at dawn after having slept peacefully against his familiar body. If any of them had caught on, they didn’t say a word. Nor did she care at that point. 

At the end of May, she crept through the bed curtains as usual, only to find him uncannily quiet and upset. 

“Hey, you alright?” She whispered, climbing over his legs to settle into her usual spot. 

He shook his head, sinking down further and closing his eyes in a futile attempt at avoiding the conversation. She pulled the blankets back from his face, “Don’t you try and pretend to fall asleep Sirius Black, I know you better than that.”

The ghost of a smile graced his lips, “Smart ass.”

She pushed his hair back from his eyes, “Tell me what’s going on.”

Sirius sighed, hand trailing up her arm in a self-soothing gesture, “It’s Reggie.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d seen Regulus with Evan and the others a handful of times since the incident in February, and every time she had felt like throwing up. He had been present during it, she saw him, but after her eyes were shut she had no way of determining who was who. Frankly, she didn’t want to know which one of them had been Regulus. She understood that he was Sirius’ brother, and there would always be an underlying bond between them, but she hated him nonetheless. Part of her was still angry that Sirius didn’t seem to share the same hatred for what his brother had done to her.

Her throat was dry as she fought the urge to scream, “What about him?”

Sirius turned on his back and stared at the canopy, “…he took the mark.” 

His voice was laden with devastation and disbelief, the presence of which instantly dissolved all of her ill feelings surfacing about Regulus. She remembered that Christmas at the Potters, the fear in Sirius’ eyes as he explained the dark mark to them. They both knew what this meant for his brother, and that everything had changed.

“You’re sure? How do you know?” 

Sirius shrugged in a feeble attempt to seem unfazed, “Prongs heard some rumors and told me, but then at practice earlier I saw something peeking out of his kit and confronted Reg about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she laid down, head leaning on his arm, “They didn’t…they didn’t force him, did they?” The image of Sirius laying in a pool of blood on the Potter’s sitting room floor flashed through her mind, and she swallowed the bile in her throat. He shook his head slowly. 

“I’m not sure which is worse to be honest,” he whispered sadly, “my parents holding him down, or the fact that he took it willingly.”

They laid in silence for a few minutes, the weight of everything pressing down on them. Sirius rolled onto his side, pulling her closer.

“Reggie is the one that told me,” he whispered into her hair, “back in February. He found me and brought me to the forest…”

The admission stole the breath from her lungs. Her entire body froze as she scrambled for something, anything, to say in response. Ultimately, she couldn’t. The silence stretched between them again, Sirius’ breathing eventually evening out as he fell asleep. She laid there for a while pressed against the warmth of his body, trying to come to terms with the fact that Regulus had been the one to save her that night.

———

June 27th, 1977

“Bunch of bloody traitors,” Sirius muttered, pushing his way past James and Peter on the way to the train. She laughed as he strode up beside her at the front of the group, slinging an arm around her shoulders. 

“Now, now,” she rolled her eyes as Sirius stuck his tongue out at the rest of their friends trailing behind, “there’s no reason for name calling. We’re going to have a great time this summer! I can’t wait to show you around London!”

A month prior, James had excitedly announced that the Potters’ (including Sirius) were going on vacation to Spain this summer, Lily would be tagging along as well. Sirius had groaned loudly, immediately followed by a dramatic exclamation that he’d “rather die than be a perpetual third wheel all holiday”. He turned to Pete and asked if he could stay at his instead, only to be met with a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry mate,” Peter shrugged, “my family’s going away as well.”

“Are you fucking joking?” Sirius stared between his friends, mouth slack, “Moony?”

Remus shook his head, “You know better than to ask to stay at mine.” 

Sirius shut his mouth into a thin line, eyes falling on her.

“Yellowjacket…” he purred from beside her on the bench.

“Yes, Sirius?” she made her voice as monotoned as possible to piss him off. When he didn’t answer, she turned, his blue eyes mock-pleading and bottom lip jutting out. She scoffed. “Jesus Christ, knock off the theatrics,” she swatted at him, “I’ll ask my parents if you can stay with us, but no promises!”

Her parents had of course, both said yes. They had met the boys on multiple occasions throughout the years and loved them all dearly, and had been hearing her talk about Sirius specifically for a while now. 

As they got off the train at Kings Cross, Sirius brought her into a crushing bear hug. 

“See you in a few weeks, I hope you won’t miss me too much,” he squeezed as she struggled to break free.

“Keep choking me like this and I’ll rescind the invitation entirely,” she laughed, pinching his sides in retribution. He let go with a dramatic gasp, hand over his heart in faux-offense. 

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Siri.”

The slight pink tint to his face didn’t go unnoticed as she said goodbye to the rest of her friends, eagerly joining her parents at the back of the crowd to begin what she hoped would be one of the best summers of her life.

———

July 30th, 1977

She had assumed that letting Sirius stay in her parent’s muggle house, on a muggle street, in a muggle town would be a fiasco, but what she hadn’t expected was how quickly and enthusiastically he absorbed the culture. From the moment he arrived via Floo in their sitting room, the widest smile plastered to his face, he was eager to take in as much of the muggle world as he could. Driving in a car for the first time had him practically foaming at the mouth, making a point to press every button and crank every handle he possibly could, just to see what it would do. 

He helped her mother out in the kitchen, learning how to not only use muggle utensils and tools, but how to cook in general, which was a skill his family apparently deemed “beneath a member of the Noble House of Black” he had explained with an eye roll. His favorite thing to cook was pasta, specifically spaghetti, and her mum had taught him how to make sauce from scratch. He beamed as they all ate it, watching with sparkling eyes as they praised his new found culinary talent. Sirius washed the dishes afterwards as well, always jumping up before anyone else to try his hand at scrubbing pots and plates with the little yellow and green sponge in the sink. She caught him using his wand once or twice, but only when she knew he was growing impatient with a particular spot. 

Her father showed him around the garage, and Sirius drooled over the sight of her dad’s old beat-up Volkswagen that he’d been working on since she was a kid. They spent hours out there, blasting rock ’n roll and fine tuning beneath the hood. It almost became a struggle to get them inside the house, if it wasn’t for the promise her mother offered to let Sirius use the electric mixer to make dessert. 

Though he technically grew up in London, Sirius had never stepped foot outside of Islington. He’d never been able to explore the city, or even spend any time walking beyond the front steps of Grimmauld Place. The thought of such isolation baffled her, giving her intense feelings of claustrophobia. They spent a few days shuttling about the city to the typical tourist spots, just so he could say he’d been there. Though he loved the muggle world, most of the famous sites seemed to bore him; except for the London Eye, he loved being up so high and waving at passing tourists (you can take the boy out of the quidditch pitch and whatnot…) She knew the perfect place that would set his blood on fire: Camden. 

Watching Sirius explore muggle London was a trip, but watching his face illuminate while stepping out of the tube station in Camden Town made her heart swell exponentially. The sounds of live music from local clubs filled the streets, paired with the market vendors selling everything from jewelry, to clothes, to random paraphernalia; Sirius was a certifiable kid in a candy store. But all of that joy seemed like nothing compared to when he saw a motorcycle up close and personal. The only thing she could assume it felt like, was when she saw Hogwarts for the first time. Sirius had frozen in place on the sidewalk, watching as the rider strapped on his helmet and swung a leg over the red and chrome frame. As he revved the bike to life, Sirius’ breath caught, watching with awe and longing as the rider pulled away, the rumbling exhaust rattling their bones. 

“When we leave school,” he muttered to her, still in a daze, “I’m going to get one of those.”

She laughed, pulling him along towards the market stalls, “Well if that’s the case, you’ll need to look the part.” Holding up a black leather jacket from a vendor selling different wildly flashy garments, she motioned for him to try it on. As he inspected the sleeve length and ran fingers over the zippers and buttons, he smiled.

“Your old one was getting gross,” she laughed again, handing the vendor some cash as Sirius beamed. 

“Pub?” She raised her eyebrows, already knowing the answer. He threw a leather-clad arm around her shoulders, “You know me too well, little bee.”

———

“It’s definitely not as good at Ogden’s, but I’ll take it,” Sirius shot back Jack Daniels and grimaced. Though he didn’t care much for muggle whisky, he did seem to love the beer (she promised to smuggle some in their trunks for the ride back to school in September).

When the sun had set, and they had a little bit of a buzz, they meandered out into the street, walking down towards the river. The muffled sound of music carried from a few blocks away, the area fully alive even late into the night. They found themselves stopping beneath an old stone bridge, Sirius pulling out his cigarettes and offering her one. After a confirming nod, he lit them, handing one over with an annoying little bow.

��Fuck off,” she mumbled in jest, smirking as she watched him take a drag, the ember illuminating his face as he inhaled. 

“So what now?” Smoke curled around his head, making him look practically ethereal in the low light.

“Uhm, well, we could see if there’s anything going on at the Roundhouse? Maybe even Dingwalls?” She flicked at her cigarette, watched as Sirius’ gaze turned to the walls of the bridge, covered in a multitude of graffiti and etchings. 

“We should write something,” he covertly took out his wand and placed it against the stone.

“Sirius, no,” she let out a nervous laugh, “we’ll get in trouble—“

“Who’s going to know?” He motioned around under the empty bridge. 

“The Department of Improper Use of Magic Office!” She hissed.

Sirius gave her a look, “Don’t be such a swot. They can’t trace who did magic, just where. Even if they find out, the most we’ll get is a warning.” 

He was right, there was no one around, and the muggle cops rarely cared about what happened down here unless you were selling drugs or something. She sighed, leaning back against the wall as Sirius smirked and began muttering something while moving his wand around the stone. He nudged her with an elbow a few seconds later when he’d finished, “Your turn, Yellowjacket.”

Etched into the wall was Sirius Orion Black, he even added little crudely drawn stars above it for extra flair. She rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand, adding her own name beneath his, sans any additional doodles. 

“Happy?” She said as she put her wand away.

He stared at their names, mulling something over.

“Hmmm…almost,” he mumbled, putting his wand back to the stone. A moment later, he took a final step back to admire his work. “There!” He exclaimed cheerfully.

A poorly drawn heart encompassed their names, one side of it being a little too wonky.

“Is that supposed to be a leaf?” She joked.

Sirius scowled, “No you fucker, it’s a heart!” He jabbed a finger into her ribs, tickling her as punishment. She gave a playful yell and grabbed his arm, “Knock it off!” 

His hands flattened against her ribs, holding her in place as they stood pressed against each other. One of Sirius’ hands began to travel, trailing upwards to curve around the side of her neck. Her breath caught, the thumping heartbeat in her ears was so loud that she could barely hear when he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

She exhaled, almost as if she had been holding her breath since they had met all those years ago on the train.

“What took you so long?” She whispered.

And then his mouth found hers. 

———

She needed him like oxygen, couldn’t get enough. He kissed her like he felt the same, one hand cradling her jaw as he explored every inch of her mouth. 

God, he was intoxicating. Her head swam like she’d downed a bottle of whisky, hands roaming to graze beneath the hem of his shirt. Sirius pulled back slowly, eyes filled with what could only be described as reluctant restraint. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, licking his bottom lip. Her hands stilled against him, taking in the almost tortured look on his face. 

“Please, Sirius,” she gripped his belt, “don’t ever stop.”

Then his mouth was on her again with a ferocity she had never experience before. He was consuming her; his taste, the feel of his body pressed against hers, the smell of smoke and leather and spice was overwhelming every sense. Her hands couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t explore his body enough. 

None of it was enough. 

It would never be enough.

She would always want more of him.

She would always need him. 

Sirius pushed her against the stone wall of the bridge, lifting to wrap her legs around his waist. As he trailed down her neck, one of her hands found its way to his hair, fingers running through the silken mess that she loved so much. The stones cut into her back as she arched against him, Sirius taking the opportunity to bite at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Siri—“ she gasped, tightening her legs around him.

He groaned into her neck, “Say my name like that again, and we’ll never leave from under this bridge.”

She pulled at his hair and he laughed, even in the dark his smile lit up her soul. Sirius kissed her again slowly, until the sound of a passing group of people tore them from the moment.

He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip as she spoke, “Wanna check out one of the clubs?”

Sirius shook his head slowly, voice low, “I’d much rather continue this conversation at home.”

Home.

The way he had said it made her thoughts spiral. In the blink of an eye, she could picture it. A life, a future, with him. She hadn’t put much thought into what life would look like post-Hogwarts. The boys would always be a part of it obviously, but they all seemed to be diverting onto their own paths, and it looked like maybe Sirius’ was parallel to hers. 

She kissed him one last time, setting her feet back on the ground. Lacing their fingers together she laughed, pulling him from under the bridge, “C’mon, I’m not letting you leave Camden without seeing a live show.”

Dingwalls was packed when they arrived, a new punk band from Surrey apparently playing a set that night. Drinks in hand, they pushed towards the stage, finding a spot against one of the side walls to stand against. Sirius pulled her back against his chest as they danced and drank to the fast thrumming of the music. He let his hands wander, leaning down to kiss her as much as he wanted. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the sweaty bodies and loud music drowning their senses, or maybe it was something else entirely, but time ceased to exist around them. Her hands tangled in Sirius’ hair as they leaned against the wall, his knee wedged between her legs as the the pounding drums echoed the elevated beat of their hearts. His arousal was evident against her thigh, and she smiled against the column of his neck as she pressed closer.

“You’re killing me, bee,” Sirius groaned into her ear, following up with a gentle bite to her lobe. 

She looked up at him, eyes trying to convey innocence though she knew he didn’t buy it for a second. “Wanna head back?”

He kissed her for emphasis, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her out the door. 

Later that night, she laid in her bed unable to relax. Her parents had already been asleep when her and Sirius arrived back from Camden well after midnight, tiptoeing upstairs to their respective rooms. The journey back had sobered them up a little, the night air cooling down whatever intense feelings had flared to near catastrophic levels in the club. Sleep never came, and she instead stared at the ceiling and tried to turn all thoughts away from Sirius Black sleeping across the hall. But when her bedroom door cracked open, a wave of relief washed over her. 

Sirius shut it quietly, climbing into bed beside her like they had done so many times throughout the years. As he settled down beneath the sheets she turned to face him, “Can’t sleep?”

Sirius’ hand trailed along her hip, “I told you we’d finish our conversation from earlier, didn’t I?”

She smiled into a kiss, wrapping herself entirely in him. 

In the early hours of dawn, she awoke to Sirius’ even breaths and perfect skin. He looked like a painting, like one of the romantics had crafted him from pure desire and passion and beauty. She almost felt guilty waking him, but at the risk of her parents seeing him leave her bedroom, it had to be done. He groaned into her neck as she scratched the back of his head.

“If you don’t go back to your room, my parents will kill us both,” she whispered, kissing him on the temple. Sirius made another dramatic noise as he sat up, reaching over the side of the bed for his clothes. Before leaving, he kissed her again, one filled with promises for more.

“See you at breakfast,” he murmured against her lips, slipping out the door and back to his room without another sound. 

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

[dreamersbcll]

“I paced around for hours on empty, I jumped at the slightest of sounds”

- whumptober, prompt no. 7

(hey, can you hear me? who’s in control? are you there?)

——————————————————————————

It had been a long time since Sam saw his face.

Though she was twenty-six years old, she still believed in second chances. She believed in foolish ideas that were only tangible as a child. Ideas that grew hope, and hope that always killed.

But she thought it was better. She was supposed to be better. Her stupid psychiatrist said she would be better. Take the medications, exercise, drink water, and stay on a tight regimen. She did all that and more- as Tara was on a similar neurological cocktail, the two were able to make it all work.

It was never enough. Whatever she did wasn’t ever enough. Somehow, the monsters under her bed morphed into the waking nightmare that followed her around, consuming every piece of her.

One year since New York. Well, a little over. They were coming up to the year and a half-mark lately. Yet it didn’t matter.

Billy is back. And she can’t get rid of him.

As everything does, it started small. It was the small glimpses of him in freshly washed plates or hearing his laugh in a crowded room. Then it progressed. She couldn’t brush her teeth in the mirror without seeing him smile at her, and she avoided the stainless steel dishwasher at work, for he was always lurking.

The whispers were the final straw. There wasn’t a moment of peace anymore. Billy was constantly at her ear, talking, begging, pleading. Anything to get her to listen. He begged Sam to let him take over, to let him hold a knife again. He promised that he would help her feel better, that he would scratch that itch that she couldn’t quite get.

The worst part was she agreed with him. She has been feeling a strange itch- something resting under her skin, gnawing at her bones. Alcohol or drugs couldn’t satisfy it. Movie nights, midnight walks, or early morning workouts couldn’t quench it. She knows what it wants. She knows what it needs.

But she won’t let herself kill again. Unless there was a good reason, and she didn’t have one.

Billy had other ideas.

He wanted Sam to hurt people close to her, and she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t lay her hands on the twins, or Gale, or worst of all, her little love. They were her life, and she could never touch them.

But he wanted more. So she pulled back. She stopped going to movie nights, claiming she had work to do. Every time someone called out, she picked up shifts. She worked days, doubles on most, and nights. Sam began to utilize the spare room, sleeping there while Tara had class. Touches, hugs, kisses, all were pulled back. She knew how Tara felt about it. She saw the crestfallen looks and broken-hearted smiles.

Sam wasn’t going to give in.

Until Tara forced it out of her.

In her defense, Sam was trying to cut onions for dinner but got distracted by his reflection in the stainless steel. He was trying to talk to her, and though she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help but listen. She admittedly watched too long as Tara managed to sneak up on her.

“Sam? What’s going on?” Tara asked, her voice thick with concern.

Dropping the knife, Sam scrambled back, her back pressed against the refrigerator. Tara held her hands up in confusion, her brow furrowing.

Before Tara could speak, Sam was already blabbering in panic. “Get away from me. Get away from me!” she cried, throwing napkins and unopened letters at Tara.

Her sister ducked, her teeth bared in a snarl. “Jesus, Sam! What the fuck is going on?” She got up in Sam’s face, reaching for her big sister’s chin. Her eyes softened as Sam flinched at the action.

Pulling back, Tara clapped her hands together, making Sam jump. “Hey! Look at me. Talk to me! Sam!” she pleaded, waving her hands in Sam’s face.

Shaking her head rapidly, Sam swallowed hard. She looked around, digging her nails in the fridge. She couldn’t see Billy, but he was there. His laughter could be heard down the hallway. “You can’t, you can’t be here. It’s not safe-”

Tara cut her off before she could begin. “-Sam. What are you talking about? You’re the safest thing I know. You’re home, Sam. You’re my home. Now stop tweaking and fucking talk to me!”

Her words hung up in the air, frozen. Sam stopped listening around the second sentence as her world was coming to a halt. He was here. Behind Tara, Billy bent down, picking up the knife. Sauntering right up to Sam, he grinned wide, waving the knife in her face.

She lost. He was here.

“Oh, Tara,” she breathed, tears pricking in her eyes.

Tara’s steely eyes softened, her breathing picking up. Sam knew her little sister could see her cracking open, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Fuck, Sam didn’t know what to do.

“Sammy. What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, Sam swallowed hard.“He’s back. And he won’t stop talking,” she whispered, watching as he mouthed, let's kill her.

Frowning, Tara followed Sam’s gaze, trying to find the murderer in their kitchen. Little did she know that there were two. “What’s he saying?”

“He wants me to hurt you,” Sam blurted out, wincing at her lack of finesse. She licked her lips, trying to calm her nerves. He still kept whispering and twirling the knife.

Tara’s lower lip wobbled, her big brown eyes shining with tears. “And?” she said, her words barely above a whisper.

Sam just shook her head, shifting her eyes away from her little sister. Tara reached out to grab her hand, but Sam snatched it away before contact could be made. She couldn’t touch her sister. She couldn’t have him know what Tara’s skin felt like. And she couldn’t let him make her feel what Tara’s dead skin would feel like.

Frowning at the action, Tara stepped back. “You’re scaring me, Sam. Please stop. Please talk to me,” she begged, reaching out again for Tara.

Once again, Sam moved away from Tara. Clenching her jaw, Sam breathed out. “I can’t stop his awful energy. I can’t stop him. You have to go.”

Glancing towards the door, Sam swallowed hard. “Maybe I have to go,” she whispered.

“No! No, we will fight him together—you and I. You promised we would take on everything together. You promised me!” Tara forced out, her teeth bared.

Her little sister always tried to look so ferocious, so threshing. But she could never be as scary as the man standing behind her. The man that Sam couldn’t control, the man who, instead, possessed her.

She didn’t know what to do. So she did what she could, be honest.

“I don’t know who’s in control anymore, Tara.”

[missizzy]

Fic: The Tempest in Winter(Critical Role, Vaxleth)

It's been a very, very long day. The couple of weeks by which Grog's folly and Vex's pregnancy delayed Keyleth's return at least meant everyone in Zephrah had already heard the full story, but gave her father more time to get very anxious about her. Since stepping back through the tree, she's spent most of her time dealing with the matters that piled up in her absence, but all the while, the people around her looked at her with sadness and pity, and offered condolences until she thought the next one might make her scream. Dinner with her poor father was agony.

They also wouldn't leave her alone. Noone has, during the day. While she was in Castle Whitestone, even its servants seemed to always be present and keeping one eye on her, as if they feared every moment she was about to collapse or something. There were places elsewhere in the city or the wilderness she could sometimes escape to, and there might be places here in Zephrah as well, but today she hasn't had the opportunity. Her father stayed with her until she finally excused herself to sleep.

But now she is alone. All alone, as she pushes open a door and just stares into a room she last saw not much more than a month ago, when she peeked in and glanced around, just to make sure she and Vax hadn't forgotten anything.

At first she keeps her eyes on the bed, as she walks in and sits on it, and wishes she was much more tired. But ultimately, she can't stop herself from looking around.

Everything in the room's been left mostly untouched, although she supposes her father would've stepped in and done a quick magical dust every now and then, and maybe another one that morning. Her and Vax's spare robes are still on top of the closet, and she knows there's a piece or two of his clothing still in there. Most of the stuff on the bedside table is hers, but amid it all there stands out a mostly empty jar of boot polish. The books on her shelf are almost entirely from her childhood, but she sees two of them on Exandria's history sitting on one end where Vax left them, his bookmarks still marking where he'd left off.

Rolled up against one wall is a tapestry they received a couple months ago now, a gift sent by a weaver in Emon. One who apparently received some account of exactly how Thordak was killed, but either it got distorted or he took artistic liberties, for it shows Vax stabbing his heart crystal, with it shattering as a result. Keyleth hadn't wanted to throw it out, but Vax hadn't wanted to look at it, so they just sort of left it there.

The bed they got to fit both of them was always a little too big for the room. Now, as Keyleth sits on it with her legs folded under her, she feels like it almost floods the place, yet another reminder.

A vivid memory hits her of the last time she and Vax made love in it, a few days before their departure. When she looks at the headboard, she can still him still sitting against it, her in his lap, them gently moving up and down together, as he held her pressed up against him, close enough for every one of their breaths to mingle.

Of course she starts crying again. How could she not?

She cries as she undresses, struggling to hang her cloak up properly with her hands shaking so hard. She cries as she dons a nightgown, one she doesn't even try to button up all the way. She cries into the pillow as she pulls the blankets around her, trying to get herself warm in the chilly night, even while feeling like she'll never be warm again.

This, she decides, will be the last night she sleeps in this room. She'll have to figure out in the morning where she'll live, but she and Vax did discuss moving out in their final months together. Of course, that was when they started discussing not only marriage, but possibly even children. It was always very hesitant, even as they confirmed it was what they both wanted. And yet Keyleth wonders if they tempted fate, talking that way, just a little too much.

Even if he'd lived to marry her, Keyleth's not sure Vax would've agreed to children, in the end. He might have still been too worried about leaving them behind.

Eventually she gives up on falling asleep, at least immediately. She goes over to the wardrobe without bothering to light anything, and it's dark enough over there it's only when she's pulling the robe she grabs on that she realizes it's Vax's. So many weeks and it doesn't smell of him anymore. Keyleth doesn't know if that relieves or disappoints her. She wraps herself up in it and goes over to the window, pushing the shutters open.

From here she can see a good deal of Zephrah, and Catha's bright enough for her to make out details, even a handful of people who are still up and outside. Next to the home she shares with Derrig, the head of the Tempest Blades, his wife Nel is standing and talking to Laney, a much older woman. Not far from them, young Torth is up his roof, probably looking for weak spots in it. There's a young couple slowly strolling up the hill hand in hand; Keyleth doesn't look at them long enough to tell who.

Up this high enough and the air isn't always entirely still at night. There's just enough of a cold breeze to prick Keyleth's cheeks, to be sharp on her ears. The tears have stopped, but they've left her skin colder. The chill fills the room; her feet are freezing. She could warm herself with her hands, of course, but right now, she doesn't want to.

Nel and Laney finish their conversation. The former goes into her home, while the latter walks off, towards her own. The couple have strolled out of sight completely. Keyleth hopes they get inside. Torth's still out there, and while he's got a good coat on, she can still see him shivering a little.

Around this time last year, Keyleth spent a few days treating the town to some snowfall. Not the easiest task, and the snow had always melted overnight, but each afternoon there'd been enough for sledding and snowmen, and Vax was among those who had led off snowball fights. The children of Zephrah all have to be hoping she'll do it again this year. And she will. Just not for a few weeks, at least. Zephrah has plenty of overcast days in winter. There'll be time.

She remembers on the last day she did it, Vax insisted on taking her sledding. They ended up crashing. Everyone who saw it came running to help, many of them laughing as they'd done so, but Keyleth found she didn't mind that so much. Her father noted afterwards that had been a little undignified of her, but he didn't push the point too much. Keyleth never wants to be above her people, and everyone now knows that very well.

Vax helped with that a lot. Keyleth's not sure he ever even realized how much goodwill he earned from them both with his behavior to everyone, the warmth and congeniality he was better at than her. She's only fully appreciating it now.

Among the things her father told her about today was that Zephrah has already done mourning rituals for him. The day they heard the news, he said, they all gathered together to remember him, and they sat and reminisced until well into the evening. It was probably the biggest mourning gathering they'd had since they heard about the devastation of Pyrah. Many wore black the next day. Since then, a number of tokens have appeared on the altar he made, likely gifts for him, rather than the Matron.

But much as they loved him, that was only going to go on for so long. For most of the Air Ashari, the mourning period for their headmaster's consort is now over.

Torth apparently finishes his work on the roof for the night; Keyleth watches him climb down. She sits there for maybe a minute or so more, before she finally forces herself to close the shutters.

Ultimately she falls asleep laid on partly on top of the covers, partly with them wrapped around her, still wearing Vax's robe. The next morning, she awakes to the sound of tapping against the shutters, accompanying by the cawing of a raven.

[phoenix-pheces]

Update time! I wanted to thank everyone for all of the notes I’ve received on Part One. I’ve been so hesitant to share my writing anywhere, and all of the support means so much to me. One again, credit to @turquoisespace35 for this amazing AU. Enjoy!

—————————————

After Dusk - Part Two

“No,” Hunter replied, not daring to move. “At least, I don’t think so. What is it?”

Willow cast her eyes down once again. He immediately missed them. She reached up with her free hand and began twisting the end of her braid with her fingers.

“It’s something we do at home. Well, not everyone I suppose. But some people? I guess that doesn’t matter right now.” She let out a nervous laugh, but it sounded strained. Though it made his heart pound in his ears, Hunter gave her hand a small squeeze. She squeezed it tighter in return.

“What made you think of it?”

Willow pulled away, and his snakes hummed with disappointment. She shifted to sit next to him instead of across from him. Though he could no longer see her face, his body froze as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“It’s something you do with someone who is…dear to you.”

She means you.

Hunter’s eyes widened, but stayed firmly fixed on the ground in front of him. He could feel his entire body heating up. He might have stayed there forever, if not for one of his snakes gently biting his ear to bring him back to the moment.

“Well, wow, that’s…yeah.” The same snake who bit him hissed in frustration. “I’ve found a lot to do here, but that isn’t, or wasn’t—“

If before Hunter hadn’t been able to find enough air, now he had far too much. Every word coming out of his mouth felt needlessly breathy. He would also probably be thinking more clearly if he couldn’t feel Willow pressed up against his side.

He let out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been dear to anyone.”

Willow was silent for a moment. “That’s not true.”

Hunter’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. It took every muscle in his body to stay still and calm.

“It’s not?”

“You’re dear to me,” Willow said, laying her hand on top of his once again.

Tears immediately began to gather in the corner of his eyes. Though Hunter tried to hide it, the trembling of his chest gave him away. He felt her hand touch his cheek as the first tear escaped.

“Oh, Hunter—“

Willow wrapped her arms around his back and he sank into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. This wasn’t how he wanted the moment to be, but once the tears had started they were impossible to stop. Willow held him tightly as he cried, and he stayed shaking in her arms until sleep overcame him.

Hunter awoke once again to the sound of apple skin crunching quietly. The sun had risen, and Willow had helped herself to breakfast. As he pushed himself to sit up, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Dish of the day,” she said with a laugh, holding an apple out to him. The morning sun reflected so beautifully in her eyes, and Hunter would’ve given anything to preserve that exact view for a goddess’s lifetime. He carefully took the apple from her, and held it in his lap. Her hand moved to his back, and Hunter’s whole body stiffened.

“Sorry!” Willow quickly pulled her hand away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She began to fiddle with the core of her finished apple. Hunter tentatively placed his hand on top of hers.

“lt’s okay,” he said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure?” Willow suddenly looked very sad, and Hunter didn’t understand why.

“Of course! Willow, what’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?“

“No,” Willow moved her face closer to see his. “I was going to ask you the same thing. After last night.” A slight blush came to her cheeks, and Hunter felt his stomach drop.

“Right, that.” He stared down at their hands, still together. “I remember.”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No!” Hunter whipped his head up to meet her eyes, inadvertently squeezing her hands as he did so. “Willow, you didn’t!”

“But, I thought—when I made you cry…” Her eyes were confused, worried, and something else Hunter couldn’t decipher. She jumped as he put his arms around her the way she had for him the night before.

“Willow, what you said meant the world to me. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to say that.”

Hunter felt her let out a heavy sigh as she wrapped her arms around him. He gave her a gentle squeeze, and she laughed and gave him one in return. He pulled away just enough to look at her, and her smile was breathtaking. He felt his face grow hot once again.

“You—uh,” he swallowed his nerves and took a deep breath. He felt his cheeks get even warmer. “You’re dear to me too.”

Willow suddenly took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his cheek. His snakes all fell back and hummed in delighted surprise. Hunter’s eyes widened, and he felt as though his heart would burst out of him this time.

“Woah.”

Willow laughed softly as her cheeks turned a bright pink too. One of her hands dropped to her side, but the other stayed to cup his cheek. She ran her thumb back and forth over it like she did with his hand, and Hunter once again was struggling to remember how to breathe.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “A lot.”

“I’m glad,” Willow said, beaming. “There’s another way we can do it, but it’s a little different. Do you want to try?”

Hunter eagerly nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Willow brought her other hand back to his face. Her touch was warm and wonderful. “We can stop anytime you want, for any reason.”

He nodded again.

Willow closed her eyes, and softly pressed her lips to his.

It was like the world stopped turning. His snakes swarmed with glee, and Hunter closed his eyes as Willow had. He tightened his arms around her, content to stay in that moment forever. He felt warm and bubbly and happier than he could ever remember feeling. She pulled away all too soon, but seeing her beautiful smile made it worth separating.

“Did that feel okay?” Her question was a little breathless, and her face was still flushed. Her hands left his face and rested on his shoulders.

“Willow, that was wonderful.” He tried to press his lips to her cheek the way she had for him. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but she giggled and leaned into him.

“Thank you, Hunter. I really enjoyed it too.” She pulled him into another embrace, and they sat holding each other for a long time. Hunter eventually pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes.

“I have one more question about last night.”

“Sure, anything,” Willow said as she took his hand in hers. It still made his heart soar.

“Well, now that we’ve done all of this, are we…ready for kissing?”

Willow erupted into laughter and buried her face in his neck.

“What? What did I say? What’s funny?”

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 51

A couple days had passed and Jessie and Rafe were finally making it back to OBX. Both of them were in an argument about who was more excited to see Charlotte. Both of them thought they won.

The last couple of days were spent laughing, hiking, lounging, shopping, eating, and every fun thing in between. After Rafe and Jessie's heart to heart the first morning they were there, it was decided then on what they would and would not do. Even though a small part of Jessie wanted to continue to get a little wild just for fun, she listened to Rafe and tried to take their trip as an opportunity to really heal instead of continuing to put a bandaid over a bullet hole. Rafe was glad she decided to do so, for his daughter, but also because he of course was terrified that he was going to slip back into his old ways. If he was completely honest, he felt terrible for giving in that night, and was fighting his own demons in his head about that. But he had to convince himself just like he did Jessie... they're moving forward, together.

"Who do you think she's gonna run up to first?" Jessie asked with a stupid grin on her face as she lay piled up in the passenger seat of Rafe's truck. They were only a few minutes out and if Jessie's nonstop yapping about coming home wasn't enough to show her excitement, that question sure was. Rafe just laughed and kept looking at the road, trying not to show the clear annoyance he had with her questions. He knew she was excited, and he was too... but damn.

"I don't know babe." Rafe answered plainly through a half smile. Jessie disregarded his dismissiveness and looked out the window with a smile.

"I can't wait to see her." Jessie replied, still looking at the country road and the trees passing by in a blur. Jessie then realized that Rafe was going pretty fast, maybe he really was just as anxious to get home as she was.

"I know." Rafe joked as he looked over at Jessie for a fleeting moment. Jessie then could tell that she probably needed to shut up. Although she stopped talking, Rafe couldn't help but notice her uncontrollable fidgeting from excitement. He loved when she got giddy, it was few and far between for the girl that centered her life around being calm cool and collected.

Rafe put a little more pressure on the gas as he set his strong hand over Jessie's twitching leg. He hoped it would calm her down, and of course it did. The truth is, Rafe was just as ready to be home as Jessie was. However, his anxiousness stemmed less from excitement and more of needing to know that his daughter was okay. He wondered if she cried herself to sleep while they were gone because her mommy and daddy weren't there. He wondered if JJ let her get hurt. He wondered if JJ kissed her booboos like her parents always did when she scrapped her knee or bumped her head. He wondered if she had eaten well. He wondered if the Pogues kept her entertained. He just had to know she was happy and healthy more than anything.

The couple finally pulled into the driveway of the Chateau. Before Rafe could throw the truck in park Jessie was already unbuckled. They must have heard Rafe's truck pull in the driveway because he wasn't even half way there yet and he could see the porch door swing open and clash against the side of the house with fury as he watched his toddler come barreling out. God, how did she look older already? He hadn't been a dad for long, yet he felt like every day he wasn't with her was a day she had grown up so much and he had missed it. Every time he blinked it seemed like he'd open his eyes and she'd be even less little.

Rafe finally put the truck in park and Jessie flew out of the passenger side and ran across the yard to her daughter. Rafe was honestly surprised she even waited until he stopped. Nonetheless, he laughed at his excited wife as he stepped out of the truck himself to hear one of his favorite voices.

"MOMMYYYYYYYY!" Charley screamed from the top of her lungs with excitement. He heard both of his girls laugh as Jessie reached down to accept the impending hug, which quickly turned into a football tackle. Jessie withstood the blow as she stood up and spun her daughter around.

"Charleeeeeyyyyy!" Jessie replied in the same excited manner. As Rafe was walking over to his girls he noticed JJ sauntering out of the Chat with something suspicious between his lips. Before he could say anything, he was met with the voice that was sure enough to distract him.

"Daddyyyy!" Charley yelled as she ran away from her mother and over to her father. Rafe immediately peeled his eyes away from his brother in law and looked down to open his arms and wait for Charley to fall right in them so he could scoop her up. That's exactly what happened. Rafe tossed his beloved daughter in the air as she screamed.

"How's my little girl doing?" Rafe asked as he set the child comfortably on his hip. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed tightly as if she was gonna lose him. Rafe simply melted into the embrace and brought his other arm around to rub her back as he laid his head on top of hers.

"Goooood." Charley replied with her face buried bashfully in her daddy's chest.

"I'm glad princess." Rafe simply responded. By this point the two of them were walking up towards the Chat, but before they could even make it to the stairs Jessie was quick to point out the obvious with a smirk on her face.

"Whatcha got there big boy?" Jessie asked as she put two fingers up to her lips in mockery. JJ looked tired- no, straight up defeated- as he blew the cloud of smoke and gave his sister a look that said save it.

"I told you she made me wanna smoke." JJ simply replied with a slouched posture as he kicked himself up against the wooden post.

"Yeah well next time..." Jessie said as she walked up the steps. She met her brother at the top with her signature smirk as she took the joint from his lips and stuck it in her mouth, allowing her tongue to roll the blunt back as she put out the end of it with the roof her mouth, no hands needed. "Wait to smoke when we get home and you're officially off duty from watching my kid." Jessie sassed as she took the weed out of her mouth and threw it in the yard. JJ watched the wrapper fly into their withered flowerbeds and looked back at Jessie with a pissed off expression.

"First of all, your little party trick is lame, and second of all, I didn't light that bitch till I saw yall pull in the drive way... and you should consider yourself lucky I waited till then." JJ corrected his sister but to no avail. Jessie simply scoffed and shook her head as she walked inside with Rafe following close behind.

Rafe simply pursed his lips and widened his eyes as he passed by JJ, but not before giving him a few pats on the back as if to silently confirm that he lost the argument.

"Hey, at least you got some while you were gone." JJ retorted as he looked back at Rafe, to which he just responded with a laugh and shake of his head as he walked in the house. JJ followed closely behind.

"Where's Wheezie?" Rafe asked as he set Charley down in the living room. Jessie was already in the floor ready to play with her daughter as she started messing with the dolls in front of her. Rafe looked back up and put his hands in his pockets to find that JJ had disappeared into the dark hallway. Rafe wondered where he went and furrowed his brows as he looked back over at Jessie for an explanation. Jessie didn't respond, instead she gave her husband a knowing look.

Sure enough, just a few moments later, footsteps could be heard and Rafe could see the flicker of a flame coming closer and closer, eventually revealing JJ with a joint stuck between his lips once again. He blew out the cloud of smoke in the general vacinity of the living room, intentionally looking at Jessie as he did it as if to say I got more.

Rafe quickly countered the motion by waving his hand deliberately through the cloud of smoke he just puffed in the direction of his girls, not daring to miss the opportunity of a death glare as well. JJ was pulled out of his menacing state and looked over at Rafe and remembered he had asked him a question.

"She's with Sarah and John B, they went fishing."

"How's she holding up." Jessie asked, still playing with the dolls on the floor.

"Eh, kids are resilient." JJ waved her question off as he stuck the joint back in his mouth again.

"That's not what I asked." Jessie sassed. She could tell Rafe wasn't particularly fond of his answer either, as he just stuck his hands back in his pockets and visibly tensed out of frustration. Jessie was already ready to be alone with Rafe again, simply for the fact that they were once again thrown into a heaping pile of shit the second they came home. They expected as much, but no amount of expectation can prepare for the real shit show. JJ rolled his eyes and formulated an actual answer.

"She was mopey of course, but, she's coming around. Sarah's helping a lot." JJ responded. Rafe still didn't take his word for it, and Jessie could see that. The truth is, Rafe just wanted to see her for himself.

"When will they be back?" Rafe asked with a sigh, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

"Probably when they've caught our dinner." JJ only half joked. Jessie was quick to pick up on it though.

"You're... out of food?" Jessie asked with a tinge of worry and mostly judgement in her voice.

"For the most part yeah."

"What did you feed my kid?" Rafe was quick to beat Jessie to that question, his concern and judgement clear across his face.

"Dude, who do you think ate it all?" JJ said defensively as he gestured his hands over towards the toddler. Both Jessie and Rafe laughed a little after his outburst, realizing that he had a point and he probably wasn't used to having enough food in the house to keep a small child alive and thriving. "Do you really think I would let that girl starve?" JJ asked slightly annoyed. Rafe just gave Jessie a look that said yes I do.

"No, we don't, JJ." Jessie interjected despite her husband's face showing more than doubt. "We just worry about her is all. It's our job to protect her."

"Yeah, yeah, noise noise. Hey, look! There they are!" JJ dismissed his sister as he pointed out towards the marsh.

- - -

It was now dinner time and Pope and Kiara had now joined the party. They were all sitting out by the fire comfortably eating their freshly caught fish, even Charley didn't mind what her mother was feeding her, although Jessie knew she would eat just about anything smothered in ketchup. The dining room table in the Chateau simply wasn't big enough for everyone that night, so they opted to eat under the stars surrounded by the cool night air. None of them minded, of course. The fire was oddly quiet, all that could be heard was the clanging of forks on plates. Nobody seemed to have much to say after they all finished catching up from Jessie and Rafe's little getaway. They all seemed to sit their awkwardly, as if they didn't know what to talk about next, other than the obvious questions of what now?

Jessie and Rafe being the adults in the situation expected as much though, and they'd be lying if they said they weren't prepared to break the ice when they got back and have the tough conversations. They were willing to bet that none of the pogues were brave enough just yet to make any decisions regarding where to go and what to do with the cross. Luckily, Rafe and Jessie had spent a little time planning while they were away. They knew that even though they didn't want to discuss this anymore than the rest of them, that they were going to need a plan, and soon. Every day they were there was another day they were exposed. The pogues knew this too, but with a distraught Wheezie thrown in the mix they all seemed to have a newfound reverence for the situation. It wasn't like they just had themselves to worry about anymore. Jessie and Rafe now knew the feeling well of having to base your decision on what's best for someone else-- someone much more vulnerable to your opinions and decisions.

The couple just continued to look around and read the room, occasionally stealing glances at the other and silently saying you go first. The two of them played this game almost all through dinner, but eventually Jessie of course got tired of the waiting and decided to finally just say what needed to be said, which didn't come as a surprise to anyone.

"So..." Jessie began as she cleared her throat and looked around the circle. "Have you guys talked about where we should go? Because we can't stay here." She said plainly as she searched everyone's face for answers. This was a moment that proved that despite this group growing through so much, they still felt and acted like teens sometimes, as they clearly were taken aback by her question. Jessie knew a thing or two about having to be the adult even when she didn't want to be, and this was no different. Finally Wheezie spoke up.

"W-What do you mean we can't stay here?" The tween asked as she looked at Jessie with concern. Rafe noticed it immediately and interrupted before Jessie could give one of her signature blunt speeches.

"Wheez..." Rafe started as he cleared his throat and looked her way with sincere empathy, "We definitely can't stay here, it's not safe for you when all of Kildare thinks you're dead."

"Yeah, and we've still got the cross to think about." Pope interjected. Jessie visibly tried not to roll her eyes at Pope once again bringing that damn treasure into the conversation. She took a deep breath to stop herself from speaking before thinking.

"Yes... we do." Rafe interjected before his wife could speak, knowing that was best. He looked back at Wheezie. "But Wheez, you can't stay here."

The Pogues didn't interrupt, they knew he was right. Wheezie knew he was right too, but she still couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

"Well... w-where am I gonna go?" Wheezie asked with a concerned look towards her older brother. Rafe still met her gaze with so much sympathy. As much as he hated his father, he knew now what it meant to Ward to keep his daughters safe. He couldn't help but take that responsibility on himself now.

"Yukatan!" JJ piped up as he stuck his finger in the air as if he just had an epiphany. Everyone couldn't help but hang their heads and laugh a little, Rafe included.

"Well," Jessie spoke up. "That's actually what Rafe and I wanted to talk to you guys about... we think somewhere out of the country is best... we think it's necessary." She explained with hope in her tone. The Pogues looked around at each other, thinking it wasn't the worst idea.

"T-this is crazy, w-what am I gonna do about school and and and my friends and-"

"Wheezie," Sarah interrupted with a calm demeanor as she put her hand on her sisters knee. "You'll be okay, trust me... this is hard, but, not as hard as it would be trying to get your life back on track here."

"Yeah, wheeze, you'd be a spectacle here, and everything would just be stirred back up and... we don't need anymore trouble." Rafe explained. He could see the gears turning in Wheezie's head. "Look... I know this is hard but... I need you to think like an adult right now okay-"

"I don't wanna think like an adult!" Wheezie cut her brother off with a thunderous voice as she stood up from her seat. "You wanna tell me to act like an adult but you don't want to treat me like one! Nobody has even asked me what I wanna do!"

Before Rafe could say anything else he watched as his little sister stormed off into the house grumbling under her breath. Everyone looked around, not quite sure what to say. Jessie, however, knew exactly what to do. She could see Rafe grow frustrated as he inhaled a sharp breath, put his hands on his knees and got up from his seat, undoubtedly to go talk some sense into his little sister. Jessie intervened immediately, meeting his actions with the same motion.

"Let me." Jessie pleaded as she looked at Rafe from across the fire. He looked at her with doubt.

"Jessie, no, you shouldn't-"

"Trust me." Jessie begged as she held her hands up to Rafe's chest, trying to get him to stop resisting. He simply exhaled the breath he was holding and listened to his wife. He wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, but he figured with how good she was with words, she could get her to come around.

Jessie gave her husband a look of sincere gratefulness as he stood down. Rafe returned back to his seat and summoned Charley over with her food to help her continue eating. With that, Jessie turned around and went up to the Chat.

As Jessie walked up the gravel she could hear the distant chatters and clanging of forks once more. She knew they were talking about Wheezie and probably trying to figure out what to do, but she had it all under control.

Jessie walked into the screened in porch and opened the front door, now easing into the living room to find a distressed teenager sitting on the sofa staring into nothing. Been there don't that Jessie thought. She propped herself up on the entry way and knocked slightly. Wheezie's head shot up as she realized she wasn't alone. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"God, can you not sneak up on me like that?" Wheezie sneered. Jessie just chuckled, folding her arms across her chest, seeming to ignore her request.

"I've been sneaking for a long long time, Wheez... it's what's kept me alive... and it's what's gonna keep you alive too."

Wheezie just scoffed and shook her head at the statement. Jessie decided to keep going with her speech.

"But look..." Jessie began as she kicked herself off the wall and walked over to her sister in law. "It's just you and me here, and I'm gonna treat you like an adult." Jessie took a seat next to Wheezie. "You haven't been treated like an adult by your siblings because you really haven't had to be one yet. Your brother and sister probably saw you as the annoying little sibling that just wanted be grown up like them... but it's not as fun as you think. This world is filled with tough choices and plenty of times where you have to think about people other than yourself. This is one of those times." Jessie could see Wheezie taking the words in and truly processing them. "And trust me... I get it... it's hard being forced to grow up. I know that better than any of those guys out there. You and I... we've got a lot in common, Wheeze. But the one thing you have that I didn't when I was your age is siblings that love you enough to always do what's best for you. We're not gonna let anything happen to you, but you gotta trust us."

"How do you know what's best for me? You just got back after leaving my brother for years! You made him into a monster!"

Jessie didn't take those words to heart, she knew the look in Wheezie's eyes was one of pure hurt. Jessie just cocked her head and looked around the room. Wheezie couldn't decide if she regretted those words or not. Without another word said, Jessie simply got up from the couch, and walked down the hall to grab something from her room. Wheezie heard Jessie's combat boots stomping back into the living room with a black leather jacket in her hand. Jessie stood in front of Wheezie on the other side of the coffee table and threw the jacket down in front of her where she could see the emblem clearly on the back of her jacket.

"That jacket..." Jessie said with a seriousness in her voice as she pointed down to it and cocked her hip slightly. "Is proof that I make the tough choice in order to do what's best for others. That jacket, Wheezie, is proof that I grew up a lot damn faster than I ever wanted to. And your dad was a piece of shit just like mine, and let me tell you something..." Jessie said in an eerily hushed tone as she got eye level with the girl in front of her. "The only difference between me and you is that you're not ready to admit it."

Jessie saw once again the fear behind Wheezie's eyes as she drank in every last word.

"You want to be treated like an adult? Consider it done. I don't envy the war going on in your head right now... it's the same war that I had in mine for way too long. But one day... life gets so complicated that you just don't care... and you do what you gotta do to stay alive and to keep the people you love safe. You do things like signing your life away to a gang or moving to a third world country and convincing everyone you're dead... such is life, Wheeze. You wanna be treated like an adult? Act like one."

Jessie took her jacket off the table and slipped it onto her body. Wheezie took notice how it fit her like a second skin, clearly worn almost every day to mold to her so well. She could tell that Jessie didn't say those things to intimidate her, but to encourage her. She trusted Jessie when she said she understood. Wheezie simply took a deep breath, licked her lips and looked up at the woman in front of her with a fierceness.

"Yukatan?" Wheezie asked. Jessie smiled and nodded.

"Yukatan."

[winniethewife]

It's time that you won.

(Llewyn Davis x OC!Rose Thorne)

Chapter 3: But my love is fairer than any

Warning: Smut under the cut. oral sex (f!receiving) fingering

Minors DNI

Last Chapter ~ Next Chapter

Words:1108

As the morning light filtered in through her curtains Rose lay sleeping peacefully in Llewyn’s arms as he gazed upon her. He couldn’t believe his luck. The last few days had been unbelievable, that one night after the show they had ended up in bed together, and it felt like they had hardly left since then. He gently caressed her face with the back of his fingers, not wanting to wake her, but he couldn’t resist, she was so soft, so enchanting. He felt like he was dreaming, there was no way someone this wonderful, wanted someone as fucked up as he was, he couldn’t help but think of every time he had fallen for the wrong person, every time he had been thrown out before the morning came. Rose didn’t do that, Rose wanted him to stay, she practically begged him to stay with her after finding out he had nowhere to go, it seemed impossible for someone to be this kind, this good, to be everything she was, everything he dreamed of. He pulls her in closer burying his face in her glowing copper hair, taking in her scent. Rose murmurs softly in her sleep, making Lewyn smile, kissing her head and whispering to her.

“ ‘s just me, sunshine…I got you…” he watches as she stirs slightly then relaxes back into his arms, nuzzling into his chest a soft sigh escaping her lips as he reassures her. He closed his eyes letting the peace of the morning and the sound of her breathing lure him back to sleep, for just a little longer.

“Llewyn…” She moans his name her fingers woven in his dark curls as his head was nuzzled between her thighs, his beard tickling at her thighs as he ran his tongue up the length of her folds, his fingers pushing into her over and over, his fingers coated in her slick as he brings her to her climax again. His mouth wrapped around her clit. Her soft moans filling the air like music to his ears as he feels her walls clamping down around his fingers as her orgasm wrecks her body for the third time this morning.

“That’s it, that’s it baby…” He groans the vibrations of his voice around her clit causing her to buck her hips into his mouth.

“Ah…fuck. Darling…I can’t, I can’t” Rose feels like she’s in nirvana, nothing could compare. She was totally lost in the pleasure of the moment to give a single care about anything else. He lifts the blankets peeking out from under them, moving up her body, looking on her adoringly. She smiles at him as he emerges from the blankets his facial hair wet with her arousal.

“Llewyn…you look so pretty like that.” She murmurs as he leaves a trail of kisses up her nude body, before landing on her lips, his rough lips pressing into her soft ones as they move against each other. Her fingers interwoven in his curls pulling him in closer, arching her body into his, he slides his arm underneath her holding her against him, his hardened length brushes against her pelvis, enticing a moan from her lips.

“Fuck… Please.” Llewyn groans as he moves to press his tip at her entrance, she lets out a soft groan and nods her head as she pushes herself onto him. He reacts by thrusting up into her, growling in her ear as he pushes into her tight walls, dragging along her wet cunt moving at a steady pace.

“Mph…Baby…you feel so good…” Rose softly cries as she grasps the sheet tight as he slides into her, his tempo increasing as they go on soft moans filling the air as they move in sync with each other.

“Hgh…Rose…I’m close...Really fucking close.” Llewyn groans as he slams into her, his movements getting more ragged as he gets closer to his climax, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Oh…shit…Me too Llewyn…I’m gonna Oh Fuck.” Rose gasped as she felt her climax rushing over her. Llewyn whines softly as he feels her walls clamp down around him, after a few more thrusts he pumps his hot spend into her, crashing his lips into hers swallowing their moans as they come down from their high.

Later that day they had actually left bed, they were sitting together in the living room listening to music as they enjoyed the glow of the afternoon sun. They sat on the couch, Rose leaning on his chest as she reads her book, clad only in his t-shirt. Llewyn reads the book she’s reading over her shoulder, his head resting on top of hers as they sit together, running his hand along her thigh, her soft skin under his fingertips like smooth satin. Suddenly the phone rang, both of them startled by the loud ring. Rose hopped up leaving the book to the side as she went to the phone. Llewyn watches her walking his eyes on her ass. Rose picks up the receiver of the phone and turns slightly catching his eyes, a smirk crossing her face as she notices him staring. Llewyn Looks away pretending not to have been looking a cheeky smile on his face. Rose shakes her head as she talks on the phone.”

“Okay…Okay yeah…10:30…Mhm….I’ll be there…Huh? Oh uh…” She looked at Llewyn and covers the Receiver. “Hey Darling, Would you possibly like to record on this upcoming album I’m working on?” She asks with a smile. Llewyn does a double take.

“What? Me?” He looked at her like she must be joking.

“Yeah you, who else would I be talking to?” She chuckles.

“I…I mean…I have to get a…y’know, thing from Mel.”

“Oh hun you’re dumping Mel, My agent will sign you no problem.” She laughs slightly before going back to her conversation. Llewyn was surprised, and agreed, but there was a slight nagging in the back of his head…Why was she making choices like that for him. Sure Mel might not have been the best for him but he’d been with Mel since the start…he shrugs it off. Who’s he kidding Rose is one of the biggest names in the business. He should be grateful for it…right?

“Okay we’ll see you Friday at 10:30.” Rose hangs up the phone and walks back over to the couch sitting down next to him again and as she presses her lips to his cheek his previous train of thought is put on the back burner for now. He leans in and kisses her back before they return to the book. What’s the harm in letting her help him out a little more? Right?

~

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