#so if you were to untangle the line once all is said and done it would be one line and not branching paths

[arolesbianism]

I <3 making hcs abt how time works in different stories isat is a spiraling arrow oni is line spaghetti and time travel in oni is closer to legitimate time travel than isat. Source: just trust me bro

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Four

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You navigate the aftermath of your confrontation. Azriel takes his first steps toward making things right.

Warnings: brief mentions of injury, bruises, and physical fighting. nyx being a cute baby. some fun introspection. reader is tired and overwhelmed. az is honest and open (hallelujah)

Word Count: 7k+

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rhys was trying to be serious. 

He truly, truly was. 

From behind his polished desk, he looked every inch the High Lord—back straight, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the wood. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, as though he couldn’t decide where to start.

You shifted in your seat, your body aching in strange places from the fight. The cut on your cheek throbbed and the bruising across your knuckles made every twitch of your fingers tender. But none of it compared to the strain in your cheeks—from holding back a laugh.

Feyre was perched on the arm of a chair beside you, Nyx cradled in her arms, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric of her flowy blouse. She wasn’t looking at you—refusing to, actually. Her gaze was locked firmly on her son, her lips pressed together in a trembling line, but you could see the corners twitching with suppressed amusement. You kept your gaze on her, waiting until the burn of your stare would render too hot for her to ignore. 

It didn’t take long.

Feyre’s resolve crumbled as soon as her eyes met yours. She let out a laugh—sharp and bright and loud in the too-quiet room.

Rhys’s head snapped up. “Feyre, please. Not you too.”

Not you too. Morrigan had found the situation just as amusing. 

Her laughter only grew, and Nyx joined in, making incomprehensible happy gurgles in response to his mother’s amusement. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. 

She passed Nyx to your open, offering arms, and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Rhys’s neck. Her cheek brushed against his as she murmured—loud enough for you to hear, “You have to admit it’s funny.”

Rhys groaned, glancing at you. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you cut in, your voice laced with mock sternness as you bit back a smile. “Yeah, Rhys. You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he replied, fixing you with a look. “It is not funny.”

You gasped dramatically, adjusting Nyx in your lap and covering his tiny,pointed ears. “Don’t teach your son it’s okay to lie.”

Another groan. A hand dragged down his face, but his lips twitched as though fighting a losing battle. Finally, with a resigned shake of his head, he muttered, “Alright. Fine. It’s funny. But—

His words faltered. 

“I am sorry,” you offered, filling the silence. You raised your free hand solemnly. “I lost my cool. That’s my bad. But in my defense, she really had it coming.”

Rhys casted a look at Feyre, who was leaning against the desk now, a smile still tugging at her lips. He shook his head again, sighing. “Maybe so,” he conceded, “But I can’t have our court’s emissary beating one of our citizens in broad daylight. It’s not a great look.”

“It wasn’t broad daylight,” you corrected, your attention shifting to Nyx as you untangled your hair from his iron grip, grimacing as the motion pulled at your scalp. “The sun was setting by the time we were done.”

Feyre let out another laugh, the sound powerful enough to pull a snort from her. 

“And,” you added, “It was, at most, semi-private.”

“Unbelievable,” Rhys muttered, though there was no real heat in it.

Nyx babbled again, his chubby hand reaching for your hair once more. 

“Okay, alright,” you said, straightening in your chair. The ache in your body flared as you moved, but you ignored it, your focus on Rhys. “You’re right, Rhys. I have a title and an image to uphold. I should’ve acted better. Tell me how to fix it, and I will.”

Rhys’s gaze lingered on you, as if the longer he stared at you, the easier words would come. Then he leaned back in his chair, his attention flicking to Feyre. They were in each other’s minds, you realized, talking in that way only they could. You could pick up the signs now, even subtle—a faint twitch of her lips, the softening in his gaze, even the rhythm of their blinks syncing up. 

Finally, Rhys looked back at you, then down at Nyx, who was still babbling in your lap. When his gaze returned to yours, there was a thread of warmth beneath his voice. “You’re the most, objectively, rational of us all. If you say there was reasoning, then I believe you.”

You gave him a grateful smile.

“We just have to prepare for some damage control,” Feyre said. “It’s not exactly comforting for our citizens to see three of their highest-ranking officials fighting in the streets.”

“Three?” You frowned. “What—”

You were cut off as the door creaked open. All three of you turned as Mor stepped in, a large grin on her red painted lips. She was holding something small in her hand, and when she held it up, the light caught on the all-too-familiar jewelry.

“Don’t forget. She also found these,” Mor sang as she entered fully. She tossed two bracelets into the air, catching both effortlessly before holding them up again for emphasis. “So, I think that’s enough for a pardon.”

Rhys stood, crossing the room in a few long strides as Feyre followed. He took one of the bracelets from Mor, inspecting it carefully.

“What did you find?”

“What Y/n heard was right,” Mor said, rolling the other bracelet between her fingers. “It’s a simple listening charm. Very basic.”

Rhysand hummed. “And how does it work exactly?”

“It’s an anchored spell.”

“What does that mean?” Feyre asked, frowning. “An anchor?” 

“It means the spell needs an anchor to function—a tether to keep it active and contained. Like a balloon tied to a string.” Rhys explained, his tone turning clinical. “It’s simple magic. The charm was designed to spy on whoever it was bound to.”

“And it was bound to who? Az?”

”Actually,” Mor said. She nodded towards you. “It was bound to Y/n.”

You weren’t paying full attention, not as you played a game of tug-of-war with Nyx and a strand of your hair. When the words finally hit you, you blinked, glancing between Mor and the bracelet in her hand. “What? On me?”

Mor nodded once more as Rhysand said, “Interesting.” 

”And this was in Azriels room?” Feyre asked, looking over at you. 

“One of them,” you confirmed. “The other Selene was wearing.”

Feyre’s gaze flicked to the cut across your cheek. “So she put it in Azriel’s room, but bound it to you?”

“No one tends to go into Az’s room.” Rhys frowned. “So she was only interested in conversations you were a part of.”

Of course. A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you clenched your jaw, forcing it down. You reminded yourself of what you’d seen earlier— the insecurity, rather than the malice you’d anticipated. Still, a certain annoyance lingered. Was her relationship with Azriel so fragile that she couldn’t talk to him? Were you so unapproachable that she couldn’t come to you? Instead, she planted a charm. To spy. 

”Can I see it?” You asked. 

Mor stepped forward, holding it out, and Nyx reached for it first, his tiny fingers desperately grasping at the shiny surface.

“This isn’t for you, buddy,” Mor cooed, crouching slightly. “This is Aunt Y/n’s special bracelet from her secret admirer.”

You shot her a flat look. “Secret admirer, my ass.”

Mor grinned, but her gaze flicked over you briefly, her teasing dimmed by something else—concern, maybe. Feyre stepped forward, lifting Nyx from your lap as you examined the bracelet.

“So what do we do with it now?” You glanced up at Mor.

“I can pay Helion a visit. Break the charm.” 

“Alright,” Rhys said, the word accompanied by a considering hum. “But first, let me talk to Selene and Runa—Runa was the other one, right?”

Hearing her name sent a wave of irritation coursing through you. Your grip on the bracelet tightened instinctively as you nodded, the cool metal digging into your palm. You held it out for Mor to take, watching as she then took the second one back from Rhys. He studied you for a moment, his gaze drifting to your clenched fists.

“You’re just too great,” He said with a small grin. It was very father-like in its presentation, like he was trying to cheer up a sad child. “It’s intimidating.”

You rolled your eyes, but his attempt worked— the easy cadence chipping away at the tension in your shoulders, managing to coax a reluctant smile to your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

Your attention shifted to Feyre as she rocked Nyx gently in her arms. His soft breaths had already settled into the rhythm of sleep, and something in you softened at the sight. Your smile deepened, this time warmer, more genuine. Feyre caught your gaze, then glanced at her mate.

“It’s his bedtime,” she murmured, her attention returning to you. “And maybe you could use some rest too.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Mor cut you off, her hand already brushing against your arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly, though there was no room for argument in her tone.

“I’m fine,” you tried to insist, but she gave you a look, leading you out of Rhysand’s office. You gave both him and Feyre a quick goodbye. 

“Walk or winnow?” Mor asked once you were in the hall, tilting her head.

You thought it over for a brief moment. “Winnow,” you replied.

She nodded in agreement, the corners of her lips curving upwards. “Probably for the best,” she said, “Wouldn’t want you to find another citizen to fight on the way home.”

You moved to swat at her arm in mock indignation, but she was already gone, her laughter echoing faintly as she winnowed away. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor was humming a small tune as she led you to your bedroom. She had a few more items in her hand since the last time you saw her, only a few moments prior.

“Sit,” she instructed, nodding towards your bed. Without waiting for a response, she pulled your chair from the small desk, its legs scraping sharply against the floor. Usually, you might've winced at the sound, but tonight it barely registered. You were too tired, too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of your surroundings. 

You lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed, hands folded in your lap, watching as Mor set her haul on your bedside table: a first-aid healers kit and a small jar with a golden lid, the faint scent of herbs already wafting from it.

“Whats that?” you asked, motioning towards it as Mor sat down.

“I stopped by Majda’s earlier,” Mor replied, grabbing the jar and offering it to you. 

You gingerly took it, running your fingers along the small glass. A healing balm, you gathered from the label, crafted and spelled to sooth the tenderness of injuries.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” she replied, fixing you with a look. She held her hand out in a silent request, and you granted it, placing the jar back in her soft palm.  “I ran into Adrin while I was there, too.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I think he has a crush.” 

Your brows furrowed. “On you?”

“No,” Mor laughed. “On you.” She twisted the lid off, the scent growing stronger, fresher. “This was practically free when I mentioned your name. He says hello, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes at the tone of her voice, at the small quirk in her lip.  “How generous of him.”

Adrin was one of Madja’s recent apprentices, a male from the Dawn Court. Over the past year, you’d developed a sort of friendship with him—inevitable, given how often you stopped by Madja’s for elixirs, balms, or to request healing for one of your family members. Adrin was sweet in a way that stood out, especially for someone of his stature and wealth. Humble, easy to talk to. You’d always enjoyed your small conversations with him, none of which had ever felt particularly flirtatious. 

But Mor liked to do this—tease you about romantic prospects where there were none.

“He seemed very sad to hear you were hurt,” she teased, dipping her fingers into the balm. “Here. Give me your hands.”

Reluctantly, you stretched out your hands, knuckles bruised and raw. She took them, her touch gentle as she worked the balm into your skin. It stung at first, then cooled, easing the ache. 

“He’s cute,” Mor said lightly, noting your silence.  “You should consider it.”

“Mhm,” you replied, not really listening. “Maybe.”

Mor glanced up at you, her hands pausing briefly before she resumed. “What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged and stared down at your hands, tracing the patterns of Mor’s thumbs as she smoothed over the worst of the bruising. “I don’t know. The whole thing, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t just beat them both.”

A small laugh slipped from you, unexpected. You were quite proud of how diplomatic you’d managed to be given the circumstances— though, you were sure diplomatic wasn’t the word Runa would use.

“I think,” you began, “I just figured it wasn’t worth it. At least with Selene, it wasn’t personal. There’s nothing I could’ve said to her that’d be worse than what I imagine she already tells herself. Runa just… said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

Mor nodded with an amused smile, tilting your chin up with a finger so she could dab the balm along your jaw. On a hit you hadn’t even noticed until it started throbbing an hour later.

“Still. A listening charm is kind of insane,” she said. Her tone was measured, but you caught the edge of anger beneath it. “Can you imagine what else she could’ve heard?”

Your chest tightened. You nodded. Although not to the extent you might usually have, you had thought about it—the implications of the bracelet, the act Selene had committed, the idea Runa had planted. It was almost laughable. Your court was condemned for its supposed cruelty, led by a High Lord as infamous as Rhysand, yet citizens still felt emboldened enough to pull stunts like this. In any other court, Selene and Runa would’ve faced very different—more permanent—consequences.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” you replied after a moment. “I’ll just get angry, and I’m kind of over that. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re better than me,” Mor muttered.

“Not really. I’m just tired.” You said simply. “Selene did a bad thing. She’s lucky it didn’t cause a serious disaster. I don’t feel the need to play the Mother’s role. Rhys will deal with her.”

Mor sat back, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “And in the meantime, I get pretty jewelry.”

You raised a brow. 

“What?” Her grin widened. “Like we told Rhys, it’s only a basic listening spell. If I’m in possession of both charms, and I’m not talking to you, then no one’s hearing anything.”

“And if you lose one?”

She raised an eyebrow, slowly twisting the cap back onto the jar. “I won’t,” she replied simply. And you knew that was the end of the conversation. Mor guided your head to the side, leaning in to inspect the cut across your cheek.

“That bitch got you good, though,” Mor muttered. She touched it gently, and you grimaced. “All this from that bracelet?”

“It was chunky,” you replied dryly. “And I think Runa split it open much further.”

Mor scowled. “If I see her, she's as good as d—”

“Mor.”

She sighed dramatically. “At least tell me you got her good.”

You gave her a look and her grin widened. “Gods, I love you,” she said, shaking her head. “You might be the most terrifying one of us all when you’re angry.”

A smile tugged at your lips, the faint pull of it brushing against the ache in your cheek. The sound of a laugh started to rise in your chest when a low voice cut through the moment.

“I would agree.”

You jumped, and your head snapped toward the doorway— where Azriel now stood. 

Your chest tightened at the sight of him, the moment’s levity collapsing under his presence. Instinctively, your eyes ran over him, taking in every detail. He looked tense, wings drawn in tight to his back, his posture stiff. Shadows hung close to him, unnervingly still. Disheveled, too—his hair was a mess and faint bruises bloomed along his face. His hands were hidden by his shadows, but you’d bet they bore the same marks as yours. Three officials, Feyre had said. You now knew the second. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Mor snickered beside you, drawing your attention just as her brows lifted in amusement. She turned away from him and faced you instead. “You hear that, Y/n? He’s sorry.”

You raised your own brows, gaze flicking back to him. “So those words do exist in your vocabulary.”

The bite didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have. It felt hollow, old. Azriel’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he drew in a measured breath. After a moment, he stepped forward. His gaze lingered on you for another moment before he turned to Mor.

“May we have a moment alone?”

Mor’s eyes narrowed, the sharpness in her gaze dragging over him like a knife. She didn’t answer right away, looking back to you instead, searching your face for permission. Despite yourself, you gave her a small nod.

Her displeasure showed in the faint widening of her eyes, but she stood anyway, brushing her hand against yours in passing. Her touch was soft, careful not to press too hard against the bruises. “Love you,” she murmured. “Let me know if you need anything else tonight.”

You gave her a small smile, nodding again as she walked past Azriel. His shadows recoiled from her, drawing a dark outline along his arm. She casted one last glare over her shoulder.

“Idiot,” she muttered, loud enough for both of you to hear. Then she was gone.

The silence she left behind felt suffocating, a heavy thing that settled over the room. You avoided Azriel’s gaze, focusing instead on the healer’s kit sitting on the bedside table. You reached for it, but Azriel held up a hand to stop you.

“I can do it myself,” you said. 

“I know,” Az replied softly. “But let me. Please.”

You hesitated. He looked troubled, guilt heavy in his expression, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The conversation had been inevitable, long overdue. Might as well get it over with while he tended to the cut on your cheek.

Besides, you were too exhausted to care. 

“Fine.”

Azriel gave you a small, unsure smile—grateful, almost. He disappeared to the bathroom, and when he returned, he sat with a wet rag in hand.

You tried to hold on to your anger, to avoid his eyes, but your resolve began to falter the moment his shadows began to twist around your arms. They moved languidly, curling up your wrists and brushing your fingers as you played with your hands in your lap. You focused on them instead of him— on their quiet presence, the personality in them that so few ever noticed. You’d missed the way they felt like him.

Azriel began unpacking the kit—clean cloths, antiseptic. The smell made your nose scrunch. You took in the bruising on his face—on his cheek, a split near his eyebrow, even on his lip. Strange, strategically unplaced.

“What happened to you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Cassian happened.”

And there it was— the third official. You wanted to probe for more details, were even tempted to make a joke out of his current appearance, but your irritation held you back. You stayed silent as he cleaned the wound, as he dried it. When he soaked another cloth with antiseptic, he looked at you.

“I owe you a big, proper apology.” 

You didn’t look at him, even as his words pulled at you. “Yeah.”

He paused— like he was thinking, like he was ashamed— and took a deep breath before he said, “Many, actually.”

You didn’t respond. You just nodded, watching him from the corner of your eye. When the cloth touched your cheek, you winced. He grimaced, eyebrows furrowing in apology.

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

Another pause. 

“You were right,” he said, his focus staying on your cheek. “And I should have listened to you.”

This time, the pull of his voice was strong enough to draw your attention. As he leaned closer to begin cleaning the cut, you studied his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the crease in his brow as he worked with precision. 

“I’m always right,” you muttered, and the words had more mirth than you’d expected. You supposed that was natural with Azriel, an instinct of sorts. Even when you were unhappy with him. “You’re going to have to be specific.”

Something softened in his expression—just for a second. But you saw it. You could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips, heard a soft breath of amusement. His molten eyes met yours briefly.

“You were right about Selene.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t know why, but his gaze burned. You couldn’t hold it for long and looked back down at your hands, letting the shadows weave between your fingers. You wondered what information Az knew— wondered who told him. If it was Mor who had talked to Cassian, if it was Cassian who then, in turn, had given Azriel the whole story. Had they fought beforehand? What for?

“I broke up with her,” Azriel added. “When I heard about what happened.”

You looked up, but Az’s gaze was no longer on you. “You did?”

He nodded. You tracked the bob in his throat as he swallowed. 

“There’s no coming back from what she did.”

Azriel set the cloth aside, carefully wiping away the excess antiseptic. He seemed unnervingly calm for the situation—for the invasion of privacy from someone he’d been intimate with. You’d expected something more. Anger like you’d seen with Eris, confrontation like he’d shown Lucien. But, instead, he was gentle. Maybe it should’ve bothered you, that he seemed so unphased at your current state. It didn’t. If anything, you were grateful. You would’ve been too tired to deal with anything else. 

You studied him closely. This side of him—tender, unguarded—wasn’t a side he let many see.

Your thoughts wandered back to Selene. It made sense, in a pathetic, strange way, why she might have done what she did. If she’d seen this side of him, this kindness, this care... how could she not have wanted to protect it? How could she not have gone to extremes to keep it?

You thought about it for a moment. Came to the realization that the love Azriel offered was probably worthy of madness.

“Because she spied on you?” 

It was a stupid question. But the urge to ask had persisted, so you voiced it anyway. Azriel stilled, his hand pausing mid-motion. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“No,” he said, his voice softer. “Because she hurt you.”

His words landed with a force that sent your thoughts spiraling.

“Although,” Azriel added quickly, “The spying was definitely a dealbreaker.”

He was making a joke, you realized. Or a small attempt at one. And somehow, it settled something restless in your chest.

“She didn’t mean to,” you heard yourself say before you could stop it. 

The moment the words left your mouth, you cursed yourself. What the hell were you doing? You had no obligation. No reason. It was counterproductive, if anything. Rhys was bringing her in. You had every right to trash her, right here, to Azriel himself. To tell him over and over that you told him so.

But you didn’t. Maybe it was because she’d mattered to him—enough for him to trust her despite the flaws that had undone her. Even if that truth made your chest ache, you wanted him to make his decision with all the facts.

Your care for Azriel wasn’t something led by your pride.

“Selene didn’t mean to hurt me,” you said again, more certain this time. “It was an accident.”

His eyes softened as he observed you. You swallowed and shrugged. “Runa was the one who actually did.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel said. “You were in that situation because of Selene.”

A beat.

“Because of me.”

The air between you thickened. You tried to focus on anything else, anything but the way your chest tightened, the way your heart thudded faster than it should. But you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked with his.

You thought about the past week, how something had shifted between you. The distance that had grown, how long it had taken him to reach out.  Azriel was someone who didn’t apologize easily. You knew that. But it hurt in ways you didn’t expect because you’d always thought you were different. That your friendship, your bond, was worth the discomfort. 

You thought he’d make it right. That he wouldn't have let it fester for as long as he did, wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you simmering in your hurt. 

“Az?”

The name escaped your lips unguarded, and his face softened at the sound of it. His wings shifted too, just slightly, like tension bleeding out. You hadn’t said his name like that—without anger, without bitterness—for days.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you actually apologize earlier?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked down, as if the answer was there, somewhere in the floor. “I—I didn’t know how.”

You let out a breath—annoyance, defeat, something too messy to untangle. “It’s actually really easy,” you muttered. “You just open your mouth and say the words ‘I’m sorry for being a dick.’”

There was a soft shuffle as Azriel leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He tilted his head, trying to meet your averted gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

You let the words settle for a moment before sitting up straighter. Met his eyes once more. You raised a brow, unimpressed. “A bit late, don’t you think?”

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes meeting yours steadily. He was closer now—close enough that you could almost feel his presence like a tangible, heavy thing. His shadows stirred, curling around your fingers, then shifting toward his hand. They tangled between you both, like they were tying you together, threading through the space that separated you.

“It is,” Azriel said. He looked down the second his words hit the open air. It reminded you of repentance, like a sinner confessing to a priestess. His hands rubbed together before he clasped them into a fist, looking up again.

Even then, his thumbs kept moving, brushing over each other in a way that gave him away. He was nervous.

“I messed up,” he said. “I knew I did the minute I repeated what Selene told me. But I’d messed up so badly that I felt like an apology needed to be big enough to make up for it. I couldn’t think of anything.” He took a shallow breath. “I—I was embarrassed.”

You frowned.  For Azriel, who stood in front of you, unwavering in the face of so many enemies, embarrassment seemed almost foreign.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yes.” His voice was quiet as he admitted it.

“What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?”

Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes looking almost vulnerable, wide open, like you could see everything. Even his shadows slowed to a faint crawl. They seemed to be waiting for something. You weren’t sure what.

“That you were right. I was changing. For her. And I did it on my own.”

“What?” You barely breathed out, confused. “Why?”

“I just…” He hesitated, his eyes lowering. “I thought it might be for the better. That maybe this relationship, maybe Selene, could mold me into something else, something more…” He trailed off.

“More what?”

“Something—someone, more easy to love.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second, everything froze— like the sheer sadness in his voice was enough to freeze time. And then you were flooded with emotions, each different from the one that came before. Confusion. Anger. Pity. Heartbreak. You felt a deep, hollow ache at the idea that he truly believed he needed to change to be loved. 

For the first time, you weren’t sure what the right thing to say was. If there was one at all. All you could do, in the most genuine tone you could muster, was say, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s gaze faltered, his expression shifting as though he wasn’t quite sure how to process your reaction. You glanced at his hands, pushing the rush of emotions back, then met his eyes again.

“You should never feel like you need to change. Not like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened, and you found yourself focusing on the crease between his brows. It made him look so tender. So young.

Finally, he spoke again. “I was having a bad day that night you came to talk to me. I didn’t realize how I’d hurt you. I thought I just pissed you off, that you were angry.”

“Well, you did piss me off,” you said, your anger bubbling up once more. His expression faltered slightly at that, but you continued, “I’m still angry. You were dismissive. You made me feel selfish, like I didn’t have the right to care about you.”

The words caught in your throat, threatening to stick, but you pushed them out. You’d spent centuries enduring criticism from males in Prythian politics—males who dismissed your input no matter how educated or experienced you were. You knew how to let their opinions roll off your back, not to let them settle. But you never thought Azriel would be the one to hurt you. Make you feel silly. Stupid. Small.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darted away as if he was trying to find the right words. “It was all so stupid. I can’t believe I entertained her ideas—that I let my desire to be needed make me accuse you of having ulterior motives when you were just being a good friend.”

A good friend.

That was exactly what you were trying to be—and yet, the word hurt you. It made you want to wince like you had when Azriel pressed that rag to your cut. You thought back, unwanted, to Selene’s words, and your chest tightened even more. 

Was it possible for the room to be losing air? Maybe that would explain the stupid decisions you’d been making. The thoughts you could feel in the back of your mind. A lack of oxygen to your brain.

“So why did you believe her?” you asked quietly. Your voice sounded more tired now. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “It doesn’t change what I did. It was cruel. It belittled you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, at the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth. He was sincere—you could feel it in every word, in the way his eyes stayed fixed on you, like nothing else existed in the room. You didn’t think you’d ever had someone apologize like this before, so open and raw.

And yet, something inside you still simmered. The anger hadn’t disappeared. Not yet.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “For apologizing.”

Azriel didn’t move. He kept looking at you, really looking at you, and you felt pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. His eyes had more green than Cassian’s. It wasn’t something you usually noticed—how the colors shifted in the light, how clear and startling they seemed up close. Now, though, you couldn’t seem to stop noticing, like every detail of him was suddenly magnified.

You wanted to stay angry. You deserved to. He’d hurt you, and that kind of hurt didn’t just disappear because he finally decided to show up and say the right things. But then his gaze held yours a little too long, his voice a little too raw, and that tightrope you’d built for yourself began to fray.  A sharp sting of guilt came, and you couldn’t shake it—couldn’t shake the growing realization that maybe you didn’t want to be angry at him. Maybe it wasn’t even anger anymore.

You cleared your throat as Azriel shifted his attention back to the kit, his shadows curling and shifting behind him. He grabbed a few butterfly bandages, his voice quiet when he spoke.

“You’re better to me than I deserve,” he said, almost to himself. “I think I convinced myself that it was a matter of time until the ball dropped—until you realized I wasn’t worth this friendship. I thought I’d finally reached that point. I almost just laid down and accepted it.”

You frowned at his words. 

Azriel always carried that shadow of self-loathing like a second skin, like he couldn’t believe anyone could see him as more than his darkest thoughts. As much as you wanted to heal him, to assure him that none of it was true, you knew better. It hurt to know that, after everything, he still didn’t believe it. Because, the truth was, Azriel wasn’t hard to love. It wasn’t hard to support him, to be his friend. He had his moments, as anyone did, but he was always there. Which, you supposed, is why the way he treated you hurt in such a deep, unique way.

The thought that he’d believed, deep down, that your friendship—your loyalty—could be so easily withdrawn, made something inside you ache. Made you sad. Angry. 

“I take back what I said earlier,” you murmured. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s lips twitched as he searched your face for any hint of a joke. His shadows perched on the apex of his wings, watching you both. Then, when his lips curled, just slightly, they began to move once more. 

“I have my moments,” Azriel said, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. He glanced at you, checking if it landed.  “Maybe one too many head injuries is getting to me.”

“Maybe,” you said, the hint of a smile brushing your lips. “In that case, we should keep an eye on Cassian.”

Azriel’s breath escaped in a quiet, almost relieved laugh.  He carefully removed the butterfly bandages from their small packs, the silence settling around you once more. But the air felt heavy, like there was something unspoken hanging between you. Like you needed to say something to rid yourself of the pressure in your chest. 

“You can’t just lay down and accept it, Az,” you said, your voice firm. His eyes snapped to yours. “That’s not what friendship is. Not ours.”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “I know. I’ll do better.” 

You smiled faintly, nodding back. Watching as he turned his attention back to the bandages on your cheek, you took a slow breath. His scent washed over you as he leaned in, familiar and warm. For a moment, you almost let yourself close your eyes, just to breathe him in further, to let his scent linger. Had it always been like this? Or had Selene’s words made you overanalyze everything?

“I was shocked when Cassian told me what happened. I can’t believe that while I was busy kicking myself for not doing anything, you were trying to talk to Selene. Trying to be kind. Do you realize how crazy that is?”

His words weren’t disbelief—they were awe. As if he couldn’t comprehend why you’d chosen the harder path, the path of peace. You could barely believe it yourself, sitting with a scratched-up face and a mind full of unwanted revelations. But in the end, it had been simple. 

You’d done it for Azriel. 

You’d found sympathy for her because of Azriel. You’d set aside your anger, your pettiness, because you valued your relationship with Azriel more. Even after everything, after the way he’d treated you, you still believed in him. Believed in his ability to know what he wanted.

“Your happiness was worth it,” you said finally. “I didn’t want to be the one to stand in the way of it. To make things hard.”

Azriel stopped at that, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed in a way you’d never felt before with him. You shrugged it off, trying to play it cool, and added with a dry chuckle, “Also, I figured if I did the noble thing, I’d get to hold it over you for a few centuries.”

Azriel laughed—a genuine, rumbling sound. His shadows fluttered around him. “Yeah, well, you can. More than a few centuries, actually, because you came out with some battle scars.”

You almost spoke again, but the breath left your lungs as you felt his fingers gently press the butterfly bandages to your skin. It was almost funny to think about how angry you’d been—rightfully so. But now, with the feel of his hands on you, it all began to ease. A specific sense of healing, like the betrayal you’d felt—at least in part—was being mended. That Azriel tending to you now, with the soft touch he so rarely granted, proved that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he did care. And maybe you could give him a little grace for being a flawed male.

When Azriel turned back to the kit, you touched your cheek, feeling the cut deeper than you expected. You hadn’t realized how long it was. Mor’s earlier reaction made more sense now.

Azriel glanced at the wound, then back at you, brow furrowing. “Is it okay?”

You nodded slowly, a soft breath escaping as you winced slightly. “Yeah, just tender. Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and moved to place the last bandage. And then, almost too quietly, he murmured, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am.”

“I know.” You hesitated before adding, “But you’re going to have to make it up to me. You know that, right? This wasn’t enough.”

Azriel steadied his gaze on you, leaning back to face you fully. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if anyone had ever looked at you properly. Not like this. Not as he said, “I will. I promise. In ways that are better than some baked goods.”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind some croissants. They looked good.”

Azriel chuckled. “Oh really?”

Soft tendrils of his shadows weaved around you as you nodded, biting back a smile at the tone of his voice. Something so lively. So Azriel. Although you were used to them, you resisted the urge to shiver as his shadows threaded through the ends of your hair. 

“That’s odd,” he said. “I seem to recall them looking untouched. Some even squished.”

The memory of how you’d grabbed the pastry in frustration, squeezing it in your hand, brought a small smirk to your face. You shrugged a little. “I was pissed. I couldn’t give in.”

“In that case, I’ll buy out the whole bakery.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile was still there. It was probably obvious to Azriel.  “The Spymaster supporting local businesses by single-handedly buying out a local bakery. How noble.”

He smiled at that, his expression lighter now—boyish, amused. But his words were sincere. “Whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it.”

“And if I told you to swim naked in the Sidra at night, when it’s cold and snowy?”

“I’d ask Rhysand to make an order for all the children to stay inside.”

You laughed at the thought, and the atmosphere shifted. For the first time in a while, it felt like the world had stopped turning its back on you. The anger, the grudge you’d been cradling like a newborn babe, didn’t feel so heavy now. 

Azriel stood, folding the bandages and packing away the medical supplies, and you found yourself watching him without meaning to once more. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly… beautiful he was. There was something in the angle of his jaw, the way the light caught his features that made your breath suddenly catch. He was always handsome, of course, but this was different. 

A sudden wave of curiosity bubbled up inside you. Before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke.  You’d never noticed the sharpness of his eyes, the intensity in them, the way his wings twitched when his shadows curled against them.

“Can I ask you something?” 

He paused, looking down at you with that soft gaze. “Always.”

“Why did you want to change into someone more loveable? Why stay with Selene?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I think I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Azriel nodded. Something sad washed through him, made him blink, made his wings fall an inch closer to the ground. “Everyone around us is finding love. They’re starting new lives.”

Something sharp jabbed at you, a bitter feeling you didn’t quite understand. Was there something wrong with you for not feeling the same need to fall in love?

“I’m not,” you said. 

The expression that took over Azriel’s face was one you couldn’t describe, but there was a new kind of weariness in it. His lips parted as though to say something else, but instead, he simply shook his head with a small, wistful smile. “It’s only a matter of time, Y/n.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re you. You’re amazing. It’s only a matter of time until you fall for one of your many suitors.”

You furrowed your brow, a bitter taste now settling on your tongue. You didn’t respond— didn’t know how to.

Azriel’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, his jaw tightening, but then his face softened. He exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “I didn’t think I could handle being alone when you moved on, too.”

The way he said it, the weight of it, made something ache inside you, like a deep hollow was opening up in your chest. You swallowed hard, wishing for something—anything—to ease the growing pressure behind your ribcage.

You wanted him to tell you more, to say something that would make sense of all this. But you didn’t know how to ask for that, didn’t even know what you wanted him to say. 

“Because you don’t want to be the last one standing?”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Azriel’s shadows seemed to quiet around you both.

Then, he gave you a half-smile—sad, lopsided, but somehow more real than anything he’d shown you in a long time. Not for months. Not since he began dating Selene. 

“Something like that.”

Before you could dwell on his words, on why they made you feel sad, disappointed even, Azriel finished packing up the kit and turned toward you.

“All done,” he said.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts, and nodded. “Oh. Cool. Thank you.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers brushing over the growing bruises on your knuckles. Your hair fell forward, partially hiding your face, and before you could move it out of the way, one of Azriel’s shadows darted forward, tugging at the strand. You glanced up as he gently called the shadow back with a subtle motion. 

“So... how do I look?” 

Azriel's eyes flicked over you, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he reached forward, his hand brushing that same strand of hair from your face.

“Tough,” he said, slowly moving the strand back. “I think the bandages really bring out your eyes.”

And even though he’d done it a million times before, as Azriel tucked your hair behind your ear, something inside you cracked right open.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Part Five

authors note:

tending to wounds scene!!! tending to wounds scene!! mor has both bracelets??!? az and selene are done?!?! he's being weirdly calm abt the whole thing?!?! reader is THINKINNN...

now begins the fun time of reader wanting to let az grovel (bc he has entered his groveling era) but also overthinking everything and wanting him to just....go away. also fun time of reader having to prove to everyone that despite things she may...or may not... feel, her intentions with Az were neverr driven jealousy hehe

so fun!!! i have some fun ideas guys. thank yall for reading <3 i wonder if you can guess what might happen.... there are a few hints

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten  @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon  @glam-targaryen 

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic  @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls  @louisa-harrier

[the-record]

☀️ i see the light ☀️

summary: ellie is just trying to hide from the guards when she stumbles apon a tower and a girl with really long hair.

pairing: flynn ryder!ellie williams x rapunzel!reader

warnings: non me things

a/n: i want to thank the oh so lovely @meowmeowtimw for sending me their gorgeous art, and also everyone who anticipated this fic. thank you so much for the love. also, first time doing a taglist, but let me know if you’d like to be added!

this is going to be done in parts bc my tumblr glitches and i dont want to lose any writing and delay this anymore! i have changed it up a bit from the movie to attempt to fit ellie as a character and not feel like im writing out the script but all the iconic moments will be included

you’re not quite sure how she ended up here. knocked out and stuffed in your wardrobe.

earlier, it had just been you and pascal. your mother out fetching ingredients for dinner, your birthday dinner.

she’d shut down your hopes and dreams of seeing the lights you saw every year for your birthday. she called them stars, made you feel fragile and weak. left with a half hearted goodbye.

thats when the girl showed up.

short auburn hair, climbing the tower with arrows. before you knew it, she was passed out on the floor, a frying pan in your hands.

in her bag though, that was the interesting piece. something gold and shiny, crystals decorating the circle. too big to be a bracelet, too beautiful to be a magnifying glass.

you and pascal jumped as your mother called up the tower, a surprise apparently. when you tried bringing up the lights once more, she’d simply laughed, brushing it off. you tried again, but gave up when she yelled, asking for paints.

she left, leaving you alone again. until you weren’t.

a girl, in your window.

now in your chair, tied up with pascal on her shoulder. he licked her ear, once, twice, three times before she jolted awake with a yell.

“what the hell?”

you took a deep breath, still hiding in a shadow.

“struggling… struggling is pointless.”

she looked around, taking in what was holding her down. was it, hair?

“i know why you’re here, and im not afraid of you.” slowly, you stepped into her view. “who are you, and how did you find me?”

“am i wrapped in hair?” the girl gawked at you, struggling under the wraps. “who am i? who are you? this is insane. this is kidnapping, just so you know.”

your face dropped. “you broke in first.”

“and you knocked me out and tied me up! with hair! who even has this much hair?” she groaned as she struggled.

“so you dont know who i am?” you whispered as you stepped closer.

she looked at you incredulously, “are you joking? of course not. can you let me out now?” you nodded as you stopped in front of her.

only now did you really notice her. short auburn hair, tied up at the back. green eyes that matched yours. freckles lining her nose and cheeks. lips slightly cracked and parted.

“ill let you out, if you promise me one thing.” she rolled her eyes but nodded. “every year, on my birthday, there are these lights. my mother told me they were stars, but ive tracked the stars for years.” you turned away and pulled back the curtain to your most recent painting. “they’re floating lights, and you are going to take me to them.” she hesitated but you quickly jumped in. “and if you don’t, say goodbye to your satchel.”

she sighed and relaxed into the chair. “alright, fine.” she smiled as your eyes lit up and you ran to her. “ill take you. but, we’re going my way.” you nodded excitedly as you untangled her from your hair. “and, im ellie by the way.”

“rapunzel.”

she shook out her limbs before standing. “rapunzel? pretty.”

“so you’ve really never been outside the tower before?”

ellie walked slightly ahead with her hands in her pockets, a small smile on her face. she said she knew a place to stop on your way to the kingdom.

you nodded as you took in everything. “she said it was too dangerous for me out here. that id get eaten alive.”

ellie frowned a bit as you spoke. you were definitely a bit ditzy, but smart. you weren’t naive but you noticed the good in everything you’d seen.

“so,” you pulled up beside ellie, nearly bumping her. “how did you find me?”

“i didn’t actually intend to.” she said, looking at you. “i was running, from… some very bad people, and i stumbled apon a pass in the woods. totally by accident. and when i went through it, there it was. the tower.” she watched as you nodded. “i figured id just, go up. i wasnt really thinking someone might be there.”

“obviously.” you teased.

she rolled her eyes, “alright whatever. i just needed somewhere to wait everyone out. and then you came out of nowhere and tried to maim me.”

you gasped, hitting her arm as she laughed. “i thought you were gonna hurt me! what was i supposed to do?”

“okay, fair enough.” you walked in silence for awhile, side by side, hands grazing.

ellie couldn’t help but feel a pull to you. you were kind, and funny. she hadn’t known you very long, but she knew she wanted to know more. and she couldn’t deny your beauty.

she was knocked out of her thoughts as you pointed to a sign in the distance.

snuggly duckling.

taglist: @urcherrr @onlinelesbo @diddiqueen @pedropascalsbbg @dinaismyfavmilf @madislayyy @ellieswilliamsgf @williamellieslilho @iove-bbb @swxxtbnny

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter six a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, implied !NagiReo, suggestive nsfw masterlist

For weeks, there’s been nothing but radio silence. 

You lost count of how many times you’ve typed a reply to Hiori, only to delete it afterward. Again and again. 

Each time, the words feel wrong. Too stiff, too needy, too defensive. No matter how you framed it, everything sounded wrong. What could you even say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

Plus, he didn’t follow up either. 

Every day, you’d sneak a peek into your Winstagram chats, only to see the same conversation where you left off. He’d view your stories, sure. A proof that he’s still there, just… watching. But other than that, nothing. 

On weekends, you’d log onto Steam, hoping to catch him there while you convince yourself to unwind. Every time you do, a few minutes after you log in, his name would pop up on your notifications.

hiyooooooo is now online

Your cursor hovered over his profile picture more times than you cared to admit. But fear—no, humiliation—held you back. You’d tell yourself it was fear of rejection, of misstepping. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was guilt too.

So you’ll sit straighter in your chair, hands gripping tight on your mouse, waiting. Waiting for a game invite, a little message, anything.

But nothing ever came.

Gaming was supposed to be your escape, something you both shared but it seems like it can’t break the cold shoulder treatment you’re getting from him. 

Maybe I just need to see him. Or talk to him in person, you thought, clinging to the idea as though it might fix everything. Maybe it will. But still, easier said than done. 

Desperation leads you to ask your editor for a beat change. Anything but Manshine City. The name alone made your stomach churn. You just need some distance from it until you clear the air between you and Hiori. Especially since you two haven’t spoken since the Nagi incident. 

But Mercury in retrograde or whatever cruel force dictated your life these days, have other plans. Because your editor doesn’t budge. And to make matters worse, she hands you your next assignment.

“You’re covering another Manshine City game,” she said, her tone apologetic as it can be.

You want to protest. But before you can even spit out your rehearsed excuses, she cuts you off.

“They saw the numbers your Bastard München pieces pulled in,” she explained apologetically. “It’s PR gold for them.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch. All the carefully prepared justifications in your head evaporated, leaving you standing there, mute and cornered.

Turns out, your editor and the Manshine City marketing manager are college buddies. She admits that the marketing manager cashed in a favor to get you to cover the team after seeing how you somehow brought good impressions to Bastard München. 

As much as you want to get mad at your editor, you can’t. This was the woman who took a chance on you. The same woman who took you under her wing, believed in you when no one else would. How could you even say no to her?

You shake your head. It wasn’t your editor’s fault, really. That’s just how this business works.

And isn’t it good? People are asking for you, specifically. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Then why doesn’t it feel good?

You should be feeling good about it, right? Swelling with pride, even.  Finally, people were putting a name to your work, treating you as more than a faceless, invisible byline. More than just an unfamiliar face in the video content.

Yet somehow, this void inside of you swallows every shred of accomplishment. And it leaves you unsatisfied and wondering if you truly deserve it. 

And maybe—just maybe—it’s because you can’t untangle work from everything else. Because the lines are blurring, and you’ve let Hiori seep into every corner of your life. You’re not even sure you mind.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’s the one who made you believe in yourself, who made you feel like you could be more than just a name at the bottom of an article no one reads. He gave you the confidence to think you belonged here. And now, the thought of him lingers like a shadow, casting doubt over everything you do.

It’s not his fault. You know that. But it feels like the push and pull between your career and the “thing” you have with him is tearing you in two. That undefined, messy connection was supposed to be your escape—a rare piece of joy in the relentless grind of your career.

Instead, it feels like you’re being forced to choose.

Career or connection. Ambition or affection.

The tension in your chest is sharp and unrelenting.

No, you didn’t have time to dwell on that. At this point in your career, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Your personal life? Your preferences? None of that mattered.

You just had to suck it up. And do your job.

The stadium continues to buzz with energy as Manshine City wraps up their match with another clutch win. You just finished interviewing Nagi and Chigiri, notebook clutched in your hand.

Exhaustion pulls at you, but you linger a bit longer, tempted by the upcoming match between Bastard München and Italy Ubers. You have to get going if you want to get started with writing at home and sleep early.

Before you can give in to that temptation and the idea of seeing Hiori even from afar, Reo and the Manshine City marketing manager pull you into a conversation about potential content collaborations.

Despite their excitement showing, you’re pretty much drained. Instead, you offer your goodbyes, attempting to avoid getting roped in further to their impromptu planning.

“Stay, Miss Journalist, stay!” Reo calls out dramatically before he drapes himself over Nagi like a cat. With an apologetic smile and a small wave, you quicken your steps to get further away. 

As you turn, you freeze when you nearly collide with someone. Hands catch you by the shoulders, steadying you before quickly letting go. 

“Hiori…” you breathe as you lock gazes with him.

For a moment, you swear he looked… hurt. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual calm mask. He takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from you. 

You’re just about to speak but Chigiri’s voice slices through the tension. 

“Hiori, hey!” Chigiri bounds over, oblivious to the atmosphere. His bright energy collides with the moment like a sledgehammer.

Hiori forces a strained, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“You’ve met Miss Journalist, right?” Chigiri gestures at you with a grin. “Sorry for stealing your fan.”

Hiori eyes the Manshine City jersey draped on your shoulders. A casual gift from the team manager, thanking you for the support and hard work. 

His jaw tightens ever so slightly, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. You feel your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Oh yeah? I’m hurt.” A laugh escapes him but his sarcasm is unmistakeable.  

“I-uh, I’m a Bastard München fan at heart, y’know that.” you stammer, gripping your notebook so tight. 

“Well, we don’t mind changing that, do we, Nagi?” Reo teases, his smirk sharp.

Nagi, ever the enigma, tilts his head lazily. “Hmm, changing someone’s mind is a hassle. But Miss Journalist seems worth it.”

That statement doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on in that guy’s head? Are they really riling up Hiori? 

“Wanna make a bet?” Reo’s voice is light, but the edge in his tone is clear.

“I don’t think she needs a bet to know who she likes better,” Hiori cuts in, his voice sharper than usual.

Usually, Hiori won’t be provoked by such trivial things. He gets enough shit like that within his team already. And it doesn’t faze him.

But this—this is different.

Because somehow, you’re involved and in the middle of it. And because it’s you.

He hates the way Reo’s arm brushes against your shoulder as he tries to invade your space. He hates the way Nagi’s detached comment earns a small laugh from Chigiri as if they’re onto something.

And most of all, he hates the image of you in that damn jersey. Or any other team’s jersey. 

Not to mention, he never saw Nagi take an interest in you before. Nor Reo. Not that you’re not attractive. Because you are. But this possessive feeling, is it even right?

It’s irrational. He knows that. He has no right to feel this way. But the jealousy festers anyway, fueled by weeks of silence between you.

“Scared she might like us like us more?” Reo continues to taunt him, his grin widening as he zeroes in on the crack in Hiori’s composure.

Hiori’s fists clench tighter. “Yer delusional,” he snaps, the words biting.

Men. Are. So. Full. Of. Themselves.

You’re not a prize. You’re not some trophy for their ego-driven competition.

Or whatever pissing content is happening between the guys.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps firm and purposeful. But before you round the corner, you throw a seething glare in Hiori’s direction.

He sees it.

And it hits him harder than anything Reo could have thrown.

Hiori stares at the untouched plate of food in front of him, the hum of conversation around the dinner table fading into a dull, distant noise. His teammates' laughter and energy fill the space in the way only Bastard München could.

But he can’t focus. 

The moment from earlier—Reo’s teasing smirk, Nagi’s casual remarks, and the way you looked at him with such anger—loops in his mind like a highlight reel he couldn’t escape.

He doesn’t know what to do with the emotions simmering under the surface. The possessiveness, the jealousy. 

It doesn’t make sense, not when the two of you aren’t even together. Both of you haven’t talked about feelings, about whether you even felt the same way. 

So why did it feel like something sharp had lodged in his chest every time he thought about you with someone else?

His fingers drum lightly against his thigh as he fights the urge to check his phone again. He’s already done it too many times, looking at your messages, and wondering if he should text you. The silence between you has stretched so long that Hiori isn’t sure how to bridge it.

Am I being pushy? He thought, the question hanging heavy in his mind. 

Is it selfish to want more when we haven’t defined what this is? Am I not being a creep?

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

To understand the little things that make you smile. To know you outside the boundaries of work. To know you in a deep, personal, and intimate setting.  

To be the reason for all those moments.

The weight of the thought crashes into him. His chest tightens as the room around him seems to blur—teammates laughing, cutlery clinking, voices overlapping—fading into a hollow echo. The world slows, yet his pulse quickens, each beat louder and heavier than the last.

And then, it hits him.

“I do like her.”

The words slip out of him before he even knows he’s saying them.

The jealousy, the longing, the unspoken hope he’d buried deep enough to convince himself it wasn’t there. But it was. It always had been.

The realization doesn’t just hit—it collides, with the force of a meteor smashing into the earth. It leaves him shaken, reeling, and terrified in all equal measure.

Oh god, I like her.

He’s been running from it, denying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But there’s no escaping it now. No undoing it. It’s real, undeniable, and alive inside him, threatening to consume him if he doesn’t let it out.

His gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting against his jeans. He hates the jealousy twisting in his chest. It wasn’t fair—to you, to the relationship you shared, undefined as it was.

Is my possessiveness hindering her job? She’s here to do her work, and I’m… what? A distraction? A complication?

The weight of the thought makes his stomach churn. And then there was the nagging doubt he couldn’t shake: Does she like me for me? Or is it just Hiori Yo, the athlete? The player?

His teammates’ laughter jolts him out of his thoughts. He blinks, realizing he missed half the conversation. He forces a tight-lipped smile as Isagi nudges him, but his mind wanders back to the phone in his pocket. 

He reaches for it, his heart quickening at the sight of your name on the screen. A message from you.

/yn_offthepage: what the fuck was that about earlier?

He freezes, his thumb hovering over the notification. He hasn’t heard you curse even once. Even through the text, he can hear your biting tone inside his head, ringing.

The screen dims, and Hiori lets it. The weight of his uncertainty presses heavily on him. For now, he couldn’t bring himself to open the message.

Later that night, back in his room, Hiori sits at his desk, staring blankly at his PC screen. Even the idea of gaming felt hollow. His mind was too restless.

His eyes wander to the image of you and him sitting at the pitch all sweaty. It was the candid shot someone had taken during the content shoot where he taught you how to dribble.

You were looking afar with a big smile on your face, and he was looking at you with so much yearning, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, betraying him.

The sight of it stirred something in him. A longing, sharp and bittersweet. He wanted to know if you ever looked at him the way he looked at you at that moment.

But what if opening up ruined what you already had? What if his feelings crossed a line you weren’t ready to acknowledge?

Hiori sighs, leaning back in his chair. The questions linger, unanswered. 

For now, all he can do is sit with them, hoping he’d find the courage to face you—and himself—soon.

Your schedule finally winds down when the JFA hosts a midseason party disguised as a roadshow for the upcoming months and next season.

It’s a rare opportunity to step away from the chaos of your work, and you’re willing to take it. Networking, getting insider info straight from the lion’s den—and of course, free food and drinks.

Especially the free-flowing alcohol.

Despite the “casual” label slapped on the event, it’s still as lavish as you’d expect. Thank goodness there’s no formal dress code. You settled on your favorite gray high-waisted trousers paired with a tight-fitting black sleeveless turtleneck. Professional but bold, with just enough skin to leave an impression. 

You can never go wrong with a little show of confidence, after all.

At the venue, you exchange pleasantries with Anri and Ego. The three of you make for an unusual trio, seated together like this. While you take notes as part of your routine, Anri occasionally scolds Ego for yawning or delivering sharp quips from the side. 

The roadshow presentation is a mix of team management personnel, media representatives, investors, and a few JFA partners. As usual, the rest of the crowd is either running late or loitering outside, waiting for the afterparty to begin.

At least, you’re at ease knowing that you won’t bump into any players. Not just yet.

As soon as the program ends, the three of you continue to chat at the bar counter over drinks. But before you can even swap gossip with Anri, she’s whisked away by a group of Blue Lock graduates—punctual players from Italy Ubers. That leaves you alone with Ego, who sips whiskey neat while you nurse a Long Island iced tea.

“You’re doing better than the last time we met. Not bad for an unpolished gem,” he remarks dryly, lifting his glass.

It’s a backhanded compliment, but you can’t help the small flicker of pride it sparks.

“It’s... okay, I guess. But honestly, I didn’t expect how tough it’d be. The lines between work, passion, and personal life blur so easily.”

You ramble about juggling deadlines, clashing assignments, and the weight of endless expectations. Ego listens in silence, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“Then be an egoist,” he says bluntly, cutting through your ramblings like a knife. “You think those brats are just selfish jerks? They are. But egoism is what keeps them on top.

“It’s what makes them grow, thrive, and become the best. You’re no different. You have to feed your ego too, or else you’ll be devoured and spat out until you’re an empty husk of yourself.”

His words settle heavily in your chest. Before you can respond, Ego stands up, gives a half-hearted wave, and strides toward the exit, muttering something about how his tolerance for the evening’s schmoozing has reached its limit.

Scanning the room, you notice Anri still deep in conversation with some JFA people by the dance floor, while others mingle in scattered groups. The bar counter feels empty now, save for you and the two bartenders.

It’s a good time to pause and gather your thoughts—or maybe strike up a conversation with someone if the alcohol kicks in enough courage. 

For now, you sit quietly, Ego’s words echoing in your mind.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself—to push for better assignments, to confront Hiori, to stop burying your frustrations under layers of professionalism and fear.

Liquid courage starts to course through your body, loosening your hesitation. You pull out your phone and quickly type a message to your editor.

“I want a new assignment. I think I deserve that much, don’t I?” You hit send and switch your phone to Do Not Disturb before you can even second-guess yourself.

Before your musings can go deeper, someone slides onto the stool to your right. You glance up to see Reo with his cheeks flushed pink and his smile wide with mischief. 

Behind him, Nagi trails, hands stuffed into his pockets, his disheveled hair giving him an even lazier charm. The scent of whiskey clings to them both, Reo more noticeably so.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite journalist,” Reo greets, his voice dripping with playful charm. “What are you doing here all alone? Don’t you know parties are for mingling?”

You glance up, managing to offer a small smile. “And here I thought parties were for free food and drinks.”

“Touché,” Reo laughs, leaning against the bar counter. “But c’mon, there’s more to this party than just snacks. Like us, for instance.”

“Us?” you echo, your brows raising slightly.

“Me and Nagi, of course,” he says, draping an arm over Nagi’s shoulder. “You know, we were just talking about you earlier. He thinks you’re cute.”

Nagi gives a small, noncommittal shrug, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you. “He’s not wrong.”

You blink, the casualness of his statement catches you off guard. Before you can process it, Reo leans in closer, his grin widening. “You should come dance with us. I mean, what’s the harm? A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

Your laughter is polite but nervous as you shake your head. “I’m fine here, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Reo presses, nudging Nagi toward you. “You look real nice tonight. Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit here all night while looking like that.”

The warmth of Reo’s arm brushing against yours sends a strange buzz through you. Nagi watches quietly, an amused glint in his eyes, as though content to let Reo take the lead in whatever this is.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Nagi asks suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through the noise around you.

The question startles you, and your answer comes almost automatically. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Reo murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Then no one’s going to mind if we take you home tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You almost choke on your drink, coughing slightly as you gape at him. “Wait, what?”

“Take you home,” Reo repeats, his smile slow and deliberate as if testing how far he can push. “You, me, and Nagi. What do you say? We’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Nagi’s lips quirk into a faint smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Reo’s kidding… mostly.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of intrigue that makes it hard to tell where the joke ends.

Your pulse quickens, confusion and a strange heat mingling as you glance between them. Reo’s boldness is dizzying while Nagi’s quiet amusement only adds to your disorientation.

“I… I’m flattered,” you stammer, your voice wavering. “But I’m not interested.”

“Aww c’mon! Give us a chance?” Reo pleads, lightly touching your bare arms.

“I’m really-” 

You wonder if this is just a game to him or something more. But before you can untangle your thoughts, a firm hand lands on the counter to your left, the loud cutting through the tension like a blade.

You turn your head to see Hiori, his smile strained but unwavering. His gaze flickers between you before settling on Reo.

“Mind if I borrow Miss Journalist for a while?” he asks smoothly, though his words leave no room for argument.

Reo raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. “Alright, alright. But I’ll get my dance one day, Miss Journalist! Think about it!”

Hiori doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, he places a gentle but firm hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the bar as Reo and Nagi watch the both of you saunter away. 

"Hey," a small smile plays on Hiori’s lips as he greets you. 

"Hi."

The balcony door slides shut behind him, muting the pounding bass and chatter from the dance floor. It’s just the two of you now, isolated from the noise, the cool autumn air biting at your skin.

You take a good look at Hiori. A white t-shirt tucked into matching trousers, paired with a soft navy cardigan that clings to his frame. He looks effortlessly put together, as always.

"Ya alright?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you lie, the words feel heavier than they should.

"What was that about?" Hiori frowns, tilting his head slightly.

"I… think Reo was asking me to uh… sleep with him and Nagi? Are they like, together?" you blurt out, half-laughing, trying to lighten the tension you can already feel brewing.

"Yeah, they are. Pretty low-key 'bout it. Wild, huh?" he chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases.

But the silence that follows grows heavy. For a minute, neither of you talk. The soft whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the city fill the void between you, but neither of you moves to break it. Finally, you speak.

"You don’t text me anymore," you say suddenly, the accusation sharp.

"Ya never replied," Hiori counters just as quickly, his tone flat but the edge unmistakable.

You bite your lip. "I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were accusing me of something."

Now, Hiori looks guilty, his lips pressing into a thin line.  "Just… just stop tryin’ to avoid this. Shuttin’ me out isn’t going to fix the problem."

"I wasn’t shutting you out," you argue, but even you don’t believe it. "I just—didn’t know how to respond. It felt like no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough."

"And ya thought ignorin’ me was better? Just pretendin’ nothin’ happened?" His voice rises, frustration simmering to the surface.

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, it was just work. I’m not interested in Nagi or Manshine City.’ What am I to you to have to defend myself like that?" you snap back, your voice trembling. 

"I don’t know!" Hiori snaps back, his frustration breaking through. "I thought we were close enough to say things like that to each other!"

"And your message had no emojis!" your words overlap with Hiori. It was definitely a petty statement but at this point, your emotions are spilling over in ways even you don’t understand.

Hiori’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Didya ever care about me?"

"Because it doesn’t feel like ya do. Ya ignored me when we won. I looked for ya. I know ya saw me. But ya wouldn’t even look my way.." His voice cracks and you see the hurt he’s been burying. 

"Do ya know what that felt like?" His voice is a whisper, pleading. 

You know the answer. That it hurt like a bitch. Because you felt the same pain when both of you went on the silent treatment for weeks. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

This could’ve been resolved easily by just talking things through. This confrontation could’ve been avoided and saved you both the time. But no. 

Instead, you let the hurt fester even further, creating this invisible barrier between the two of you. And now, the blame game is on. And it doesn’t even make sense. 

"It wasn’t about you!" Before you can even think, your words tumbling out in desperation. "It was for work. I-I didn’t want to be seen as the Bastard München… fangirl."

"Why not?" Hiori’s voice rises, taken aback by your words. "We ain’t good enough fer ya? Or is it just me? Am I not good enough fer ya?"

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. "I didn’t say that," you whisper, your voice trembling.

"And why should that matter?" Hiori snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "Why does it feel like yer always running away from me?"

Even Hiori himself can’t comprehend why he’s so frustrated. He’s felt betrayal from his parents before. For them caring more about his stature as an athlete than his well-being as their son.

But this one’s different.

He knows how petty he is being. But he can’t help himself not be vulnerable around you. All reason, all logic thrown out of the window because of you. 

All he can think at this point is how good it felt talking to you about work and games. How good it felt when you would talk about football with him with such a glimmer in your eyes that it fascinates him to see how you view the sport. 

How it felt good when you would run up to him to interview him and the team as you guys exchange knowing smiles, fingers grazing just barely. All he knows is that you are magnetic. 

Even right now, all he can think about is being close to you. 

You turn away from him. A shiver runs down your spine, regretting not wearing something more warm for this party.

I can’t do this. Not now, you thought. 

“Please leave me alone. For now. I can’t do this, Hiori.”

The autumn air nips are your arms. Instinctively, you cross your arm in hopes of warming yourself, eyes gazing away from Hiori still. A warm hand envelopes one of yours and you feel the thick cardigan drapes over you, shielding you from the cold wind. 

Hiori’s gaze softens, but his voice remains firm. "M’not leaving until ya tell me what’s going on. Why are ya pushing me away?"

Your shoulders slump as the weight of it all crashes down on you. "Because I feel guilty, okay?" you say. "I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

"People talk," you continue, your voice breaking. "All I hear is how I’m some opportunist, bandwagoning on Bastard München—on you."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. "I don’t know what this is," you finally admit, gesturing between the two of you. 

"I don’t know what we are, or what I’m even allowed to hope for. And I don’t want to push you or cross a line, but it’s—" Your voice breaks, tears threatening to spill any moment.

"It’s like I’m trying to walk on this invisible tightrope, and I’m scared of messing it all up."

Hiori’s gaze softens, but you keep going, unable to stop now. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to navigate this—whatever this is—without hurting you or myself or both. And why should you care, right?" you add bitterly, the words tasting like poison.

Hiori steps closer, his voice breaking. "I care. Yer the one person who made me feel like more than just a player. And it hurts like hell to feel like I don’t matter to ya."

"You do matter," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You’re the one thing I think about when I work, Hiori. You’re the reason I believe in myself. But you’re… you’re s-so out of reach, and I’m terrified of ruining what little we have."

Your voice quivers as you reply, "And I don’t know how to fix it, Hiori. I don’t even know where to begin. And it’s not fair to you. You’re you—amazing and steady and… everything I’m not."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Dontcha get it? I don’t need us to have all the answers now. Just need ya to stop running."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in. "I’m scared," you whisper.

"And ya think I’m not?" he shoots back, his voice cracking. 

"Yer all I think about, and it terrifies me. But I don’t care. I’m here. I’m stayin’. And I’ll wait as long as it takes fer ya to figure out who ya are—because I already know who ya are to me."

For a moment, the world holds still. Then Hiori closes the distance between you, his hands cupping your face gently. He hesitates, searching your eyes for permission, and when you don’t pull away, he leans in.

"Yer amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your lips. "And ya don’t even realize it."

The kiss is soft at first, testing, but quickly deepens as the emotions between you spill over. His lips are warm, grounding you, and when his tongue brushes yours, it leaves you breathless.

You melt under his touch. The kiss itself is intoxicating, as if you’re drowning, lightheaded by the swirling emotions and the budding heat within you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. "I like ya too, y’know" he murmurs. "M’sorry fer doubting ya. Fer making ya feel like ya had to carry this alone."

He kisses you again, slower this time as if savoring the moment. "I’m sorry for being a coward. For not talking to you."

You clutch at his shirt, your tears mingling with his kiss. "I’m sorry too," you whisper into his mouth.

He smiles faintly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "All this because my message didn’t have an emoji, huh?" he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension between you finally giving way to something lighter. In this moment, with him, you feel the weight of your worries start to lift, even if just for now.

In this moment, with him, you wish the night would never end.

amari's notes: struggled to write this one, i wanted to really get this chapter out quickly but i wasnt satisfied with my first drafts so i had to rewrite it so many times. i really wanted this to come out well. this chapter is close to my heart, esp when hiori and miss journalist talk about their insecurities. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[perfectsunlight]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟖𝐤

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

know that i loved you so bad

i let you treat me like that

i was your willing accomplice, honey

you were in the middle of talking about your day on the phone with your girlfriend. the both of you went to the same school, but of course her idol duties put her out of the classroom all the time. you were no idol, naturally leaving you and minji with a bit of estranged distance since you rarely saw her.

“oh, and then one of the fire alarms went off–” “can you just stop talking?”

minji’s sharp voice cut you off mid sentence. the suddenness of her words left you stunned, the hurt hitting you like a swift blow to the chest. the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the weight of the unspoken emotions hung in the air between you.

your mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what had just happened. this was supposed to be your moment, a chance to share your day with her, to bridge the ever-widening gap that her job had forged between you. 

and yet, here you were, your heart sinking as her cutting words echoed in your ears.

"i've had a long day, and i just don't really feel like hearing you ramble right now." the idol said monotonously on the other line, her words landing like a cold, heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. each syllable felt like a dagger, twisting and turning in the wound that was already so tender. 

it was as if the person you once knew, the one who used to hang on your every word, had been replaced by someone distant and indifferent.

your voice caught in your throat, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to form a coherent response. you had hoped that your words, your voice, could be a lifeline to bridge the gap between your worlds, but instead, they seemed to have driven the wedge even deeper.

the words hung in the air, the silence stretching out like an eternity. what had you done wrong? was it your fault that you couldn't understand the pressures of her life, the demands of her career? a sinking feeling settled in your chest, a mix of sadness and anger, a complex emotion that was hard to untangle.

you could feel your own heart squeezing in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you raw and exposed.

the person you loved, the one who used to make your heart skip a beat, had just dismissed you with a single sentence. the sharp contrast between the past and the present was a painful reminder of how much things had changed.

"i understand that you're tired," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. "i just thought maybe we could talk, even if it's just for a little while."

the line remained quiet for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you could almost picture minji on the other end, her expression impassive, her eyes perhaps staring off into the distance, disconnected from the conversation. 

it was a stark reminder that you were now a secondary character in her life, a role you had never anticipated playing.

"i don't know what to say," she finally responded, her voice lacking any warmth or emotion. "i'm just not in the mood for this right now."

those words felt like a final blow, a confirmation that the divide between you had grown too wide to bridge. the tears you had been holding back now spilled freely down your cheeks, each droplet a testament to the pain that was too deep for words.

you wanted to tell her how much you missed her, how much you longed for the connection you once shared. you wanted to ask her if there was a way to mend what was broken, to find a way back to each other. but the weight of her indifference hung heavy in the air, suffocating any words that might have brought solace.

in the end, all you could manage was a whispered, "okay." and with that, you hung up the phone, the silence on the other end echoing the emptiness you now felt inside. 

and i watched as you fled the scene

doe-eyed as you buried me

one heart broke, four hands bloody

the next few weeks were a continuation of that one evening. minji stopped calling you, she left you on read often, and occasionally she wouldn’t even read it until the next day. this was not the kim minji you fell in love with.

no, this was entirely someone different. your minji would never do this to you.

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. 

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. she was the one who made you feel like you were the most important person in her world.

but now, that minji seemed like a distant memory, a bittersweet echo of a time that was slipping further and further away. the weight of her absence bore down on you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over every aspect of your life. the joy you used to find in the simplest of things now felt hollow, incomplete.

you found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message, a sign that she was thinking of you. each notification that popped up only brought a pang of disappointment as it turned out to be from someone else. 

you wondered if you were being too needy, too clingy, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel that something was fundamentally wrong.

nights were the hardest. 

the absence of her goodnight messages left a void that was difficult to fill. the empty space beside you in bed seemed to grow colder each night, a physical reminder of the emotional distance that had come between you. you missed the sound of her voice, the way she used to tell you about her day, about the small victories and the challenges she faced.

you began to replay that evening in your mind, searching for clues, for any possible explanation for the sudden change in her behavior. had you said something wrong? was there something you could have done differently? the uncertainty gnawed at you, feeding into your insecurities and amplifying your pain.

those things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

one afternoon, you found yourself waiting in line at a fansign for new jeans. you didn’t tell minji you were coming, since you thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with your presence. it had been over a month since you had seen your girlfriend, and you were over the moon to just see her face again.

especially since you had found yourself ditching your last period of class to come to this event.

the atmosphere around you buzzed with excitement, the energy of the fans filling the air. the posters, the merchandise, the anticipation—it was all so overwhelming. as you inched closer to the front of the line, your heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness.

finally, it was your turn. you stepped up to the table, and there she was, looking every bit as stunning as you remembered. her hair cascaded in waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire room. for a moment, it felt like time stood still, and all the pain and uncertainty of the past weeks melted away in the warmth of her gaze.

minji looked up from signing the album placed in front of her, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "you?" she exclaimed softly, a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite place in her voice.

"hey," you managed, your own voice a little unsteady. "surprise."

a range of emotions seemed to play across her face—surprise, confusion, and something akin to disgust. but she quickly masked them, putting on a professional smile as she continued to sign your album. the brief interaction felt surreal, like you were strangers meeting for the first time, and the dissonance was almost painful.

"thank you for coming," she said politely as she handed the album back to you. you held onto the album, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched her eyes for a hint of the minji you once knew.

before you could respond, a staff member gently ushered you along, reminding you that there were other fans waiting. 

minji didn’t bother looking back at you, not even once.

and just like that, the fansign moved on, and you were left standing there, clutching the album to your chest. the encounter left you feeling both heartened and heartbroken, a reminder that surprises weren't enough to mend what was broken.

but maybe it was your fault for not understanding? minji was an idol. she was busy with her schedules and promotions. of course she isn’t going to have time to see you. surely you should understand that, right?

however, you couldn’t understand why she acted the way she did towards you. little did you know it would only get worse.

you used me as an alibi

i crossed my heart as you crossed the line

and i defended you to all my friends

“y/n, come on. you can’t keep defending her.” sullyoon said bluntly, pointing a finger in your direction as she glared at you.

your best friend had been present to witness yet another one of you and minji’s arguments. this time, you called your girlfriend asking for a day she’s free to hang out with you, only to be met with an argument with her.

minji blamed you for being late to her photoshoot because you called her at a bad time. she also blamed you for making her stressed out with all of your constant messages.

you sighed and looked down, the weight of sullyoon's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. she wasn't wrong, and deep down, you knew it. you had been trying so hard to defend minji's actions, to justify the distance that had grown between you, but at what cost?

"i know," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "it's just... i love her, sullyoon. i don't want to give up on us."

sullyoon's expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "i know you love her, y/n. and i'm not telling you to give up. but you deserve someone who treats you with kindness and respect, who values your time and effort."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart aching with the truth of her words. you had been holding onto the memories of the past, the love you once shared, but the reality of the present was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"it just hurts, you know?" you admitted, your voice quivering. "to feel like i'm not enough, like i'm the one causing her stress and frustration. she’s an idol and i feel like i should understand better."

sullyoon pulled you into a gentle hug, offering you a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "you are enough, y/n. relationships are supposed to be a two-way street. it shouldn't be one-sided, and you shouldn't have to constantly defend yourself." 

as you buried your face in her shoulder, you couldn't help but feel the weight of your emotions crashing over you. the love you had for minji was still there, strong and unwavering, but it was becoming painfully clear that love alone might not be enough to mend what was broken.

“and i’m an idol, too. but i still make time to talk to you more than minji does.” she added, patting your back gently. “she’s just making excuses.”

with a heavy heart, you pulled away from sullyoon's embrace, wiping away your tears. "i need to have a serious conversation with her, don't i?"

sullyoon nodded, her gaze filled with empathy. "yes, y/n. you deserve to be heard, and you deserve honesty. anything less than that is not enough.”

and now, every time a siren sounds

i wonder if you're around

'cause you know that i'd do it all again

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. 

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. the anticipation and nervousness you felt were palpable as the day approached. a part of you hoped that this would mark a turning point in your relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

as the day dawned, you found yourself getting ready with a mix of excitement and trepidation. your heart raced as you drove to the restaurant you both had agreed upon. the familiar sights of the city felt almost surreal, like you were stepping into a dream. you couldn't help but replay the upcoming meeting in your mind, wondering how it would unfold.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart skipped a beat as you saw minji waiting outside. she looked just as stunning as ever, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes. for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and all the struggles and pain of the past weeks faded into the background. it was just the two of you, like it used to be.

"hey," you called out softly as you approached her, a tentative smile on your lips. minji's face became visible as she turned to you, a half smile tugging at her lips. "hey," she replied, her voice a mixture of nonchalant and monotone.

the awkwardness that had been present in your recent interactions seemed to intensify in that moment. as you sat down at a corner table, there was an unspoken dynamic. minji was acting like an idol, not like your girlfriend.

the conversation started off hesitantly, with small talk about each other's lives. minji talked about her busy schedule, her recent projects, and the demands of her idol career. you sat and listened attentively, unsure if you should say anything yet about a breakup.

when there was a pause in her monologue, you took a deep breath and finally spoke up, your voice soft but determined. "minji, i think we need to talk."

she looked at you, her expression not changing much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise, maybe annoyance.

"what's there to talk about?" she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

your heart ached at her dismissive response, but you pressed on, knowing that you needed to be honest. "i miss us, minji. i miss the way things used to be between us. but lately, it feels like we're living in two separate worlds. your career, your fame—it's all so overwhelming, and i feel like i'm being left behind."

minji's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes guarded. "you knew what my life was like when we got together. this isn't something new."

"i know, and i tried to be understanding," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion. "but it's not just about your career. it's about how we've changed, how our relationship has changed. i want us to be partners, to support each other, but it feels like you're closing yourself off from me."

minji's expression hardened, her walls going up even higher. "so, what are you saying?"

your heart ached as you looked into her eyes, searching for the minji you used to know, the one who would have listened and cared deeply. 

"i'm saying that maybe we need to take a break. to figure things out, to find ourselves again. i don't want to keep feeling like i'm fighting for your attention, like i'm the one causing you stress."

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you. minji's lips tightened, and you could see a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. and then, finally, she spoke, her voice laced with anger.

"you're giving up on us just like that?" her tone was sharp, accusatory. "it's not about giving up," you said softly, your voice trembling. "it's about recognizing that we both need to be happy, that we both need space to grow."

minji pushed her chair back abruptly, her face contorted with frustration. "i can't believe you're doing this. after everything."

you reached out for her, your heart aching at her reaction. "minji, please understand. this is tearing us apart. maybe some time apart can help us find our way back to each other."

the restaurant seemed to fade into the background as minji's words pierced through you like a knife. her anger was palpable, her frustration a tangible force. you watched as she stood there, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

"i can’t believe i took time out of my busy schedule to come on a date with you for the first time in months and all you’re doing is this?" her voice trembled with a mix of emotions, and you could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

you swallowed hard, your own heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "minji, i didn't want it to be like this. i thought a break might give us a chance to work through things, to find a way back to each other."

she shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "you think this is what i want? you think i'm happy with the way things have been?"

the raw emotion in her voice cut through you, a stark reminder that this wasn't easy for her either. but her anger was so intense, so overwhelming, that it felt like there was no room for understanding or compromise.

"i don't think you're happy either," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought maybe this break could give us a chance to heal."

minji's gaze bore into yours, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "you think i need healing? you think i need you to tell me what's wrong with my life?"

the accusation in her words stung, and you felt a mixture of guilt and frustration swirling within you. "no, that's not what i meant."

"of course it's not what you meant," she spat back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "you always know what's best, don't you?"

you closed your eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden. it wasn't supposed to end like this, with anger and accusations. 

but the reality of your relationship had become so tangled, so complex, that finding a way forward felt almost impossible.

“i'm not saying i know what's best," you said, your voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. "i just thought maybe a break could help us both find some clarity."

she turned away from you, her fists balled as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions and her jaw clenched. "i can't do this right now. i can't talk about this."

you watched as she walked away, her steps hurried and determined. the restaurant felt cold and desolate, the aftermath of the conversation leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. 

it was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to find a way back to each other, but instead, it had only driven a deeper wedge between you.

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with minji after that. even though you were the one who tried to break up with her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

maybe you were wrong all along? what if it wasn’t minji’s fault, but rather your own? she was still trying, right?

in the days that followed your encounter at the restaurant, you found yourself replaying the conversation over and over in your mind. doubt gnawed at you, and you began to question whether your decision to suggest a break was the right one. 

after all, minji had come to meet you, she had taken time out of her busy schedule, and you had essentially rejected her.

seeing her upset and angry had left a pit in your stomach, a nagging feeling that perhaps you hadn't fully considered the consequences of your actions. the guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant reminder that relationships were complex and messy, and your attempt to address the issues between you had only seemed to exacerbate them.

as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself missing minji more than ever. the silence between you was deafening, and the space that had grown between you felt like an insurmountable chasm. you wondered if you had pushed her away for good, if your efforts to address the issues had only served to drive her further away.

you couldn't help but notice how minji continued to appear in the media, performing with her group, smiling for the cameras, all the while masking the turmoil that had once been so evident between you. it was as if she had moved on effortlessly, while you were left grappling with the remnants of a relationship that felt more shattered than ever.

the clock on your bedroom wall glared at you with the numbers 9:55 pm. minji was still awake, she always was at this time. you memorized her practice schedule during the talking stage with her.

it was a bit ironic that you remembered her daily schedule but you couldn’t seem to remember to eat or sleep.

the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the attempt to repair your relationship with minji had left you emotionally drained. you were trying to rebuild what was broken, and it was proving to be both challenging and rewarding.

but it wasn't easy. the memories of your arguments and the pain you both felt still lingered, and they often invaded your thoughts, especially during these quiet moments when the world seemed to slow down. the disparity between minji's public persona and the reality you both faced weighed heavily on your heart.

as you sat there, staring at the clock, a surge of emotions swept over you. you missed her more than words could express, and you longed for the love you once felt from the girl. 

yet, there was a lingering fear that the cracks in your relationship might be too deep to mend completely. the doubt, the insecurity, and the uncertainty gnawed at you, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to heal the wounds that had formed.

you picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. maybe you should send her a message, just to let her know that you were thinking of her. 

it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'cause i was going down, but i was doing it with you

your fingers typed and erased over and over again, the indecision evident in your actions. the glow of your phone's screen illuminated the dim room, casting a faint light on your contemplative expression. the cursor blinked in the text box as you struggled to find the right words.

"i miss you,” you typed and then hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. it was a simple message, but it held so much weight. would it be welcomed, or would it come across as too needy? you deleted the message and started again.

“how was your day?” you tried, hoping for a more casual approach. but as soon as the words appeared on the screen, they felt inadequate, empty even. minji deserved more than a simple inquiry about her day.

with a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and placed it on the table. you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts a swirl of emotions. the turmoil within you mirrored the unease you felt about your relationship. it was as if your actions on your phone screen were a microcosm of the larger struggle you were facing.

part of you wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, to show minji that you were still here, still committed to trying. 

but the other part of you was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of making things worse, afraid of being a burden to her busy life.

yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

but i say that i hate you with a smile on my face

as the minutes turned into hours, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, a battle raging within you. the screen of your phone remained dark, untouched, a silent testament to your internal struggle. the clock ticked on, and the night grew deeper, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of indecision.

finally, you gave a resigned sigh, realizing that you couldn't keep grappling with this forever. with a determined exhale, you unlocked your phone once more. your fingers tapped out a message, slower this time, each word chosen carefully.

"hi minji, i've been thinking about us. i miss what we had, and i'm willing to work on things if you are. i don't want to push you, but i just wanted you to know that i'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

you read and reread the message, the words holding your hopes and vulnerabilities. with a trembling hand, you pressed the send button, watching as the message flew off into the digital void. the anxiety settled in once again, the seconds stretching out.

the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. the minutes passed, and you felt a mix of anticipation and dread. 

oh, look what we became

somewhere between now and the moment you had sent the text, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. you picked up your phone again, only to be met with a blank screen of no notifications. 

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

when you scrolled back to the conversation, you noticed your message didn’t say it had been delivered. confused, you decided to double check her schedule by looking online. was she flying somewhere right now?

as you searched for any information about minji's schedule, you felt a growing sense of unease. it wasn't like her not to respond, even if she was busy. and the fact that your message hadn't even been delivered left you feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

you clicked on various fan sites and social media platforms, hoping to find a clue about her whereabouts. but your search yielded no answers—no mentions of her current activities, no updates on her schedule.

the clock on your wall ticked away, and you found yourself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty. the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. what if something had happened? what if she was in trouble or facing an emergency?

all the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, you stumbled upon a tweet from a fan account. it mentioned that minji's group finally had a break in their schedules for the first time in months.

your heart sank as you read those words. minji was still here in seoul. 

but if she was still here in the city, why wasn’t your message going through?

your favorite crime

moving to her contact once again, you about calling her. you missed her, you loved her, and you wanted to let her know that you were sorry for not understanding her.

even though none of it was your fault in the first place. 

your favorite crime

your thumb pressed on the call button and you brought the device to your ear. the sound of your heart pounded in your head and your hands shook.

would she be mad? would she be happy to hear from you? or maybe she would feel just as sorry as you were feeling right now? 

surely she can’t miss you less than you miss her, right?

'cause baby, you were mine

the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…

a/n: this was literally so rushed im sorry LMAOOO

[blue-aconite]

book club activities || r.b.f

Summary: Bob's girlfriend has a book club.

Warnings: Suggestive texting, absolute nonsense, somehow Bradley and Jake stole the show (idiots)

Word Count: 940

Pairings: Bob Floyd x f!reader

Authors Note: Happy birthday @bobfloydsbabe! This is the dumbest thing I've ever written and it also sucks but it has your favourite lil dude in it and I love you! I hope you've had a great birthday! Enjoy this insanely weird drabble.

“You should really read it.” 

Bob sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Sweetheart, I’m not reading Twilight with you.” 

His girlfriend pouted from the corner of the couch, aiming a kick against his shin. “But you liked the films.” 

“No, I said I thought they weren’t bad. I never said I liked them.” They had watched all of the films a weeknight ago, which Bob initially had only done to please her. 

“And you said the films were better than the books.” Bob argued, reaching over to right the blanket covering her body as it had half fallen to the floor. 

“Yes but I still think you should read the books.” She said, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“I will go out and get you your favourite food, two new books, a new notepad and pencils if you don’t make me read the books.” Bob placated, hoping that it would satisfy her. 

She looked thoughtful, eyebrows drawing together as she contemplated his offer. 

“Which books?

Bob smiled, knowing he was winning. “Whichever you want, darling.” 

She stared at him for another moment before tossing the blanket aside to cuddle into his side. 

“I want Pho, I don’t have the last two books of ASOIAF and please get me a A4 notebook, not A5,” she paused momentarily, hand splayed against his abdomen, “and cuddles please.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, slouching slightly so she could get more comfortable. “Yes ma’am.” 

The rain was smattering against windows, the sun setting just behind the tree line they could see from their backyard. 

Ever since  Bob had found out he was going to be stationed permanently in San Diego, they decided to get a house and set down some roots. 

“I love you, even if you don’t want to read Twilight with me.” She whispered against his T-shirt, making Bob laugh. She soon joined in and they giggled together for a few moments before once again settling into the couch. 

“I love you too. Do you want Pho from the place close to base or the other one?” 

She hummed, eyes falling shut as she snuggled into his side. “Base please.” 

Bob waited a few minutes before her breathing evened out and then gently untangled himself from her embrace. 

After making sure she was properly tucked in for her nap, he grabbed his keys and wallet. He had a promise to make good on. 

Next Day

“Dude, you should read them though, they’re actually pretty good. Not the writing but the story. Love triangle, vampires, werewolves and hybrid babies.” Rooster said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

Phoenix snorted, rolling her eyes. “Not the most intriguing introduction, Roos.” 

Bob watched as they jabbed back and forth, pushing his food around on his plate. 

Hangman and Coyote sat down with their trays, interrupting the squabble happening across from Bob. 

“What’s up?” Javy asked. 

“Are you team Edward or team Jacob?” Rooster asked, completely serious. 

Coyote’s eyebrows shot up, mouth pressed into a tight line. “Dude, are you talking about Twilight?” 

“Yes! Bob watched the films with his girl and he doesn't want to read the books but I think they’re pretty good and Nat says they’re crap and now we gotta decide what team.” Bradley rambled, earning another smack to the side. 

Javy stared them both down, an unimpressed look on his face. “I don’t like fantasy.” 

“WHAT? Dishonour on you, dishonour on your family, dishonour on your cow!” Rooster dramatically gasped, clutching at his chest. 

The entire table rolled their eyes at their teammates' dramatics, all of them now used to Bradley’s antics. 

“Okay fine. I didn’t care enough to choose a team, the films were good and I’ve already read the books but don’t tell my girlfriend that. She’ll never let me live it down.” Bob spoke up, making Bradley smile. 

“I knew it. Everyone has read those books, except Javy here, apparently.” Rooster announced proudly, reaching across the table to fist bump Bob. 

“I personally am Team Bella. Neither Edward or Jacob were good for her. Jacob was an immature kid, not his fault, it’s just his character and Edward had issues. Real issues. The best thing for her would have been to get the hell out of Forks and work on becoming her own person.” 

The entire table fell silent, staring at Jake who didn’t even look up from his plate. No one spoke for a few beats before Bradley began clapping like a seal, shit eating grin in place. 

Bob shook his head as he reached for his phone, texting his girlfriend. She would enjoy the currently bizarre conversation that was taking place and maybe he could get out of book club if he mentioned that apparently both Rooster and Hangman were fans of the series. 

Hangman and Rooster like Twilight. 

Make them bring food and the books next time you invite them over. 

PS, you’re still gonna read the books with me, pls. 

Damn, he really thought he’d gotten away with reading the darn books again. 

If you and I are going to have a book club, no one else is welcome. 

How come??

Club activities are strictly taking place in the bedroom. 

He sent off the last text quickly, before pocketing his phone and turning back to the conversation. 

He didn’t receive an answer until he was scheduled to fly. There was a short message and a picture attached. 

Fine. 

And beneath the text was a picture partially obscuring the view of what seemed to be his girlfriend’s favourite lingerie set and all four books of the series. 

Bob couldn’t wait to go home.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren​ @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @top-hhun @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch​ @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster​@notroosterbradshaw​ @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void@bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics​ @septemberrie​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @seresinsweetie​​ @crescentwolf​ @seresinhangmanjake​ @waklman​ @roosterforme​ @rosiahills22​ @dempy​ @i0veless​ @ilovewriting06​ @kmc1989​ @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Isekaied Reversed Pt. 7 ✦ 」

↳ It's timeeee! Christmas has finally arrived!

Tags:

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

"Xiao!"

At an instant, the adeptus was next to you, his jade spear clutched tightly. "Is something wrong?"

You shook your head, the adeptus sighing with annoyance. "Well then, why did you yell my name." He frowned, crossing his arms.

"Because it's Christmas!" You cheered, before waving your wallet beside your head. "..And we're going shopping." You grinned, leaving Xiao worriedly confused.

....

Lights, lights and more lights—plus festive decoration in addition.

"Do you..even have the money for all of this?" Your humble companion asked, his arms filled with boxes of the festive spirit.

"Pshed, there's always money for the holiday of festive-ness..." You waved off, "most of the time.." You cringed before practically dragging Xiao to the next isle filled with ribbons and wrapping paper, grabbing colored ribbon of teal, gold, white, purple and a personal preference. Then moving to the next section and grabbing two roles of paper, red and gold as well blue and white.

"Are we good now..?" Xiao sighed. "Festivities take time dear." You teased with a playful smile but nodded nonetheless, motioning for Xiao to follow you to the check out line.

Xiao cleared his throat, his surprised expression and pink cheeks going unnoticed and returning to his neutral-unwavering plastered expression.

...

"There's always money for the holiday of festive-ness...dammit.." You mumbled, opening the door to your apartment, Qiji instantly welcoming you two, rubbing against the both of your legs.

You've realized you fumbled as your total came to $86.67, your jaw slacking as you took a minute to process before dreadfully inserting your card.

"Damn inflation." You whined as your companion shook his head, unamused. "I told you." He huffed, setting down the bags on the couch.

You rolled your eyes, setting your bags alongside the rest.

"So...we got the stuff, now what?"

You grinned, rummiging through the bag filled with packaged lights and taking one out.

Xiao's brow rose, his questioning doubts rising.

...

This wasn't as bad as he thought.

For the past 10-15 minutes the two of you opened the countless rolls of lights and hung them around the house. Unfortunately, 6 of those minutes were just you two unrolling as well as untangling the said lights, and keeping Qiji's paws off them.

It would've taken less time if you'd allow Xiao to use a boost of anemo and adepti power, though you spoke a hard no, informing the adeptus that setting up decorations isn't just something to get done, it's the process that makes it have purpose.

"We have I believe, one more strand of lights. In the meantime can you take some of the fake snow and decorate the room?" You asked, Xiao nodding as he took some of the fake glittery cotton and started decorating.

You extended your arms, trying to reach a spot in the corner that was a bit above your height, looking around you spotted Xiao around the table, decorating the center.

You huffed, not wanting to bother him. Looking back at the wall, you jumped, trying to reach but alas failed. Once again you tried but failed...again.

Groaning, you turned around, heading to the table and grabbing one of the chairs before turning back, Qiji meowing. Setting it down, you lifted one leg and the other, carefully standing on it, shifting your weight to balance.

With a sigh of relief, you grabbed the higher end of the lights and placed the other in the correct corner, satisfied.

"See Qiji, it wasn't too-"

You missed stepped. You forgot you were standing above ground, on a chair. Your heart dropped though you only felt a soft impact, your feet slightly dragged on the floor and warmth around your torso.

Thats when you heard heartbeats, a steady rhythmic pattern that ever so often quickened.

"You can stand right?"

Oh sh-

"yeAh!" A crack intervened as you quickly stood, the initial warmth replaced by the cold air of room temperature. With a hot face you didn't dare to look up, finding the ground your blindness.

"I'm not even going to ask." He spoke, "You mor-..Humans, have weaker bodies then us, don't be reckless." He lectured before walking off and continuing to set the fake snow.

With a few seconds of processing, you lightly slapped your cheeks, coming back to reality and resuming decorations.

Within a few minutes, Xiao swiftly avoided an incoming ball of cotton. Turning his head quickly to the culprit, you innocently looked away, setting down some bells on the doorknob.

Karma, just as quick, hit you back—a ball of fluffy cotton falling to the ground. Smiling, you picked up the decoration before resuming work.

Xiao lightly frowned, before resuming as well, that was until minutes later, felt something fall from his head. Looking down, he saw the same little ball of cotton and glitter.

Throughout the minutes, which continued to an hour, you and Xiao, played a silent game of prop and seek—hiding small pieces of snow on each other and the other finding it eventually and returning the favor ten fold.

"Hey Xia-"

A blast of cotton poofed around you on impact.

"Hm? That sounded like the time at the beach...I wonder why.."

Wiping lingering glitter, you grabbed a decent sized ball of cotton before chucking it at the adeptus, he unfortunately evaded with ease.

"Oh come on! You have adeptel energy?" You complained, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh? Anyways."

"Just wait, i'll get you back sooner or later.." You chuckled darkly, Xiao getting slightly unerved.

With the occasional help of Qiji the three of you managed to set up all the lights and festive decorations—illuminating the space and giving off Christmas.

Maybe this truly wasn't that bad...

.

.

A/N: AJidaidhhnad, not my proudest works, but I think it's pretty good considering it was written in an hour :)

Anyhways, Merry Christmas everyone! Or...at least the start of it... 🥶

[homerforsure]

Buddie first time sharing a bed as a couple? If the inspiration hits?

-@try-set-me-on-fire

Hey! I did this!

It's also inspired by another Six Days of Buddie piece from @andavs (This one!) and it's a little bit... all over the place? But I think it turned out cozy and soft and heaped with love which feels pretty Buddie to me.

sleep safe and warm

2k. Rated T. On AO3 at the link above and also below if you prefer

Mostly Buck takes the golden retriever comments in stride. His teammates find them funnier than he does, but there’s such genuine warmth and fondness in the jokes that he’s perfectly happy to enjoy the metaphorical ear scratches rather than get offended at the comparison. 

Tonight though he’s on the verge of a serious case of the zoomies. He wants to bounce around in circles on Eddie’s bed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his body all over the sheets until his scent is as deeply embedded there as Eddie’s own. Maybe if he could bark, he’d have a way to express some of the boundless joy that’s been building all day in his chest. 

He’s sleeping with Eddie tonight. 

Not like that. They’ve already done that in the twelve weeks since Eddie took Buck’s face in trembling hands and kissed him like it was what he’d want to do if they only had one minute left on Earth. They’ve done it upside down and backwards and sideways and one time at a particular incline that gave Buck a glimpse of God. 

Although that did take longer than Buck would have expected. They may have started slow and careful in the beginning, both of them half afraid they’d shatter the dream by grabbing it too tightly, but once they got used to touching each other, it was hard to keep the spark from erupting into flame with each brush of their lips. But keep the inferno at bay they did, ripping away from each other at the last minute even when doing so started feeling like ripping off a part of their own bodies.

Buck’s fear went from familiar–what if he wasn’t good enough, what if he couldn't satisfy Eddie in all the ways he needed to be satisfied–to newer and more terrifying possibilities. What if Eddie didn’t want to have sex with him? What if what Buck had thought of as the beginning of the rest of his life was only the beginning of a failed experiment. That fear built until it was more unbearable than the permanent case of blue balls he’d come down with. 

“Why?” he’d asked–pleaded really–with an almost pathetic whine when Eddie ended a scorching kiss by pulling away from Buck on the couch to stare into his eyes while he caught his breath and then said, “I should go.”

His legs tightened around Eddie’s waist almost of their own accord and Buck wasn’t proud of it. He didn’t want any of the things he wanted from Eddie–with Eddie–to come with pressure or ultimatums or anything other than the same longing that was turning his own blood to fire whenever they were alone together. But he wanted. He wanted so badly he couldn’t think straight and he couldn’t keep letting it go this far only to find out they weren’t racing for the same finish line. He had to know what Eddie wanted from him–from them. 

Pain flashed across Eddie’s face so close to Buck’s own that he could see every sharp facet of it, but it didn’t give him any more understanding.

“I’m sorry,” they said at the same time. 

“No, I am,” Buck insisted. “I want you to stay, but you-you-you should go if- You don’t owe me anything, okay? I just- Am I… Am I doing something wrong? Do you not want-” 

It was still a little too vulnerable maybe, a little too needy; his legs still didn’t untangle themselves from around Eddie. It was the best Buck could do. 

Eddie didn’t make any move to pull away though. He stayed braced above Buck with that pained, half-tormented look on his face and it gave Buck more hope than it had any right too. 

“I want to stay,” he said, finally. “I want everything.” 

Carefully, gently, Buck asked, “Okay. So- so why are you talking about leaving?”

Holding Buck’s gaze, Eddie seemed to turn over the question in his head before making a frustrated sound and ducking his head. He kissed over Buck’s bare chest, his collarbone, like he was seeking answers in his skin and Buck dared to bring his hand up to Eddie’s head, not with any pressure to hold him where he was, but with what he hoped was reassurance. 

“I love you,” Eddie said. 

A shiver coursed through Buck as he answered, “I know. I love you too.”

“And this is it. This is…There’s no going back. And I’m afraid- I’m afraid.” 

He sighed heavily and pressed another kiss to Buck’s shoulder, trying to tell him without words that the fear was his own, that it wasn’t about Buck or the ways that Buck might fail. And Buck understood that unspoken reassurance so easily and clearly that it made him smile in spite of it all. “You think we can go back now?” he asked lightly, his fingers scratching on Eddie’s scalp. 

Eddie huffed a laugh into Buck’s throat the way Buck was hoping he would and Buck felt the shake of his head. 

“Me either,” he said. “And I’m scared too, but I don’t- Eddie, I don’t want to go back. You- You’re already inside me in every way that matters and I’m- Sex is just… more. It’s more of that. It’s more of you. And I can’t really be scared of that.”

“Christ. How can I not fuck you after that?” Eddie asked. As he lifted his head again, his smile was teasing, but his eyes were filled with so much softness and so much love that Buck’s cock throbbed in his jeans against Eddie’s thigh and they both melted into laughter. 

It hadn’t happened that night. Laughing gave way to kissing gave way to whispering in the dark, exchanging fears and together transforming them into hope. The next time they fell together, a few days later, they didn’t break apart. 

They hadn’t been able to stay in bed that afternoon, however, and since then, their schedules and circumstances had seemed to conspire against them, keeping Buck from the one place he wanted to be more than anything. But tonight it’s happening. 

In the bathroom, Eddie is brushing his teeth like Buck did just moments ago and the sound of the running water almost gives him butterflies in his stomach. 

With a grin on his face that he can’t suppress, Buck crosses the room to the side of the bed he knows is about to be his and makes sure his phone charger is plugged into the wall behind the side table. He changed his clothes already, soft shorts, soft shirt, warm socks so there’s nothing left to do but pull back the covers. 

Sliding into the fresh sheets almost feels like a sigh. They’re cool on his bare legs but the comforter is heavy enough that he knows it’ll start trapping the warmth of his body in a few minutes. The warmth of their bodies. Buck’s been on his own for a while now and he’s never really stopped missing that sensation of having another person beside him. It’s a different kind of pleasure than sex, intimate and vulnerable in its own way, and comforting. The sound of easy breath in the dark and weight of another body settles him like nothing else does. 

He can still hear Eddie moving around the house, peeking in on Christopher and checking the locks on the doors, and Buck finds himself, like he does in most moments where he has to wait, with his phone in his hand and a question typed into the search bar. 

By the time Eddie appears in the doorway, he’s engrossed and he misses the soft smile that’s sent his way. But as Eddie gets closer, the floor creaks and Buck looks up in time to watch him strip off his shirt and dig around in his drawer for a different one. It brings to mind the first time Buck saw him do that motion, the first time he saw Eddie at all, and he could laugh at what the expression on that Buck’s face would be if he could tell him that the envy and fear he felt in that moment would collapse so quickly into admiration and then grow into love. 

That Buck didn’t even know that love could feel like this: as comfortable as an old sweatshirt, stolen just because it’s been loved so thoroughly by the one you love, as safe as a solid platform overlooking a breathtaking view. He’d probably be flexing now, making sure Eddie didn’t regret his invitation, because he couldn’t comprehend that he didn’t need to. Buck was so glad for all the versions of himself that he’d finally brought them here.

Dropping his worn clothes into the hamper and, after a thought, picking up Buck’s from where they’ve been kicked into the corner and dropping them inside too, Eddie asks, “Do you want the other blanket?”

“No, this is good.” 

“Good. Cause I left it in the living room and that’s a long walk.”

He slaps the overhead light off as a punctuation to the joke but Buck can feel his teasing smile even before his eyes adjust to the newly dim space. The floor creaks again as Eddie passes over the worn spot and then he’s pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, sending tingles sprinting up and down Buck’s legs. 

The bed dips and cooler air sneaks in. Eddie slides in past the invisible center line of the bed and puts a warm hand on Buck’s thigh. “All good?” he whispers against Buck’s throat, mouthing kisses up his neck and down his jaw until Buck finally turns his head away from the article he’s reading and tilts his head to let the kisses land on his lips. 

“Perfect.”

“Good,” Eddie smiles against his mouth and kisses him one last time, “Good night.”

“Night.”

Eddie snuggles down onto the mattress, not bothering to scoot back over to the other side of the bed and a contented sigh escapes into the dark. 

“Did you know Ben Franklin and John Adams slept together once?” Buck asks. 

After a beat, Eddie asks, “Which John Adams?”

“I don’t- Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Why are you reading about Ben Franklin’s sex life?”

“They didn’t have sex. I mean, maybe they did, the article doesn’t say. But they slept together like in a hotel because back in the day people didn’t really sleep by themselves as much. Even when beds were invented, you know, the whole family just piled in like, like puppies. The twin bed thing didn’t happen until later.”

“I bet George Washington got his own room,” Eddie mumbles.

“Probably.”

“What about Franklin and Adams? Did one of them get morning wood and make it awkward?”

“Uh, it says they fought about whether to keep the window open or closed all night.”

“If it smelled as bad as the bunkroom in August, I’d vote for open.”

“When Bobby makes that really garlicky sauce,” Buck snorts.

“Oh god. You know he only does that because he gets his own room.”

“Of course he does.”

Buck smiles down at Eddie and then scrolls back through the article. “And did you know that “hit the hay” actually comes from people shoving hay in like a sack and-”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I love you. And if this is your idea of a bedtime story, it’s very very effective.” 

“Right,” Buck laughs. He clicks off his phone, setting it on the side table, and the room goes fully dark. 

As he snuggles down into the blankets, Eddie makes room for him, scooting just enough so that Buck has room to lay down and roll over without risking a fall to the floor. Then he throws an arm over Buck’s waist and it’s Buck’s turn to sigh as he snuggles in closer. 

“We’re not inviting anyone else in here,” Eddie says. “I don’t care if they are a founding father.” 

Eddie’s t-shirt is soft under Buck’s fingers when he says, “No. Not sharing.”

“And we’re not doing twin beds either. You’re going to stay right here.” 

His lips brush Buck’s forehead and every part of him that wasn’t already melted into calm settles now. Their bodies are warming the blankets. Eddie’s arm is a comforting weight on his body, like a harness attached to a lifeline. With his hand on Eddie’s chest, Buck can feel the slow, steady beat of his heart and he moves to put his head there instead. Both of them drape over each other and tangle together and Buck is never ever going to be able to sleep as well any other way. 

“Even if Bobby makes garlic sauce?” he whispers. 

“Well. Maybe we’ll open a window.” 

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Long time no see. This took way longer than I had hoped. I guess life is really kicking my ass right now, so apologies. I really appreciate all the support from everyone who reads/comments/likes my story. It really helps with motivation when I feel like my writing is awful. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I'm hoping that now that we're moving on to the actual game story line that it will be easier to get chapters out now that I don't have to rely fully on my imagination. It's lacking right now lol. Enjoy!

-2004-

Chapter 19:

“You'd think you and I would have learned our lesson by now.” 

“Just help me get down, you lunatic.” You grumbled once you could look at her properly, as you were finally done spinning in uncontrollable circles.

Ada couldn't keep her composure any longer and let out an amused laugh at your predicament. She tried a few times to stop and regain her breathing, successfully doing so before she looked back up at you, only to begin laughing harder once more when she caught your unamused glare. 

She couldn't take you seriously when you were hanging upside down by your left leg from a beam, struggling to get yourself free from the tangle of wire as you growled at yourself over your failure. Your growling was turned to aim at her when she had made no move to help you down and her laughter showed no sign of slowing down.

“Ada, my love. Please stop laughing and get me down from here.” You said as sweetly as possible through your irritation. You were becoming more and more lightheaded the longer you were stuck up there and your leg was going numb from holding all your weight.

Ada had to brace her hands against her knees to stop herself from falling over due to her laughter throwing her off balance. She stood to full height as her laughter slowed down to a stop, looking at you with fondness and love in her expression.

“Of course, my love.” She moves to help carefully untangle you. “You know, maybe it's time you give up on the grappling hook. It's only ever caused you pain and embarrassment.”

“True, but it also brings you amusement.” You pointed out. Ada nodded in agreement.

“Definitely. But I don't want to see you get hurt, dear. Plus, it's been six years. It's just not meant to be if you haven't got the hang of it by now.” Ada said as she finally untangled you. She quickly caught you as you fell, placing you gently on the ground and holding you steady as you tried to get over the dizziness that nearly made you tumble to the floor of the abandoned warehouse building you both chose to practice in.

You huffed in disappointment. “But I don't want to give it up. It's cool.”

Ada smirked. “Only when you can actually use it correctly.” You playfully shoved her away from you in response to her teasing.

“Well, apparently not everyone can be as cool as you.”

Ada shook her head in amusement as she wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you in close. “Oh hush. You are cool. Just in your own, unique, way that others may not fully understand.” She cooed.

You raised a brow, unimpressed with her teasing attempt to “comfort” your bruised ego. But, you couldn't resist her soft smile and beautiful brown eyes for long. 

Your face broke into a smile and you gave up on being fake angry with her. “Fine. I give up. Clearly the only people that can use grappling hooks are you and Batman.”

“Does Batman use grappling hooks?” Ada questioned, having no knowledge on comic book superheroes.

You shrugged. “How else does he get on top of those tall ass buildings to stare out into Gotham City and brood?”

“The elevator?” Ada sassed.

The mental image you conjured up of Bruce Wayne dressed up as Batman trying to ride an elevator to the top without being seen by civilians makes you let out a cackle. Ada looked as proud as she always did to get that reaction out of you from her stupid jokes.

“So, I was thinking.” Ada started, still holding you in her embrace. “Maybe we can take a break from work for a while. Have a little vacation for a few weeks and just enjoy each other's company.”

You looked back up at her with surprise. “Ada Wong, the most workaholic person I have ever known, wants to take a break from work?” 

Ada raised a brow and squeezed your waist tighter with a smirk. “Is that not what I just said? Do we need to get your hearing checked?” She said as she lightly flicked your ear.

You swatted her hand away with a fake glare. “Well excuse me for being skeptical. Any breaks that we've had over the last six years were the result of me whining and begging you to submit due to sheer annoyance.”

“I was never annoyed with you. I just like to play hard to get.” 

You looked at her in mock confusion. “Hmm, you weren't that hard for me to get.”

“But if anyone asks, I was. I have a reputation to uphold here.” Ada teased. She playfully booped your nose just to see it scrunch up in reaction. Her smile widened as your brows furrowed in slight irritation from the gesture. “So… is that vacation a no?”

You quickly shake your head. “No! Not a no. I wouldn't mind taking a breather. Any place you have in mind?”

Ada shrugged with a smug smirk. “I have an idea or two. But it's a surprise.” 

You had a love/hate relationship with surprises. Under normal circumstances, you hated not knowing what “surprise” someone thought up involving you. But with Ada, you tend to love whatever surprise she had for you. She never did anything that would make you uncomfortable and always took note of whatever interested you and kept them in mind for said surprises in the future. 

“Hmm, alright. Knowing you, I wouldn't hate it.” You accepted.

Ada goes to respond when a voice from behind you interrupted, making her freeze for a moment as she looked over your shoulder.

“So this is what you have been up to these last six years, Ada. Playing house.”

You quickly turned to face the intruder as Ada moved to subtly stand slightly between you and the unknown man. He looked vaguely familiar. But you couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Though judging by the way Ada was immediately on guard, you could easily assume the stranger was bad news.

“I quite honestly never pegged you as the type to settle down. You always seemed to prefer to be constantly on the move.” The man said.

You observed him as he walked closer to the two of you. His demeanor screamed professional and dangerous. The type of guy with a no nonsense and straight to business attitude. He seemed completely unbothered by your presence, or by the gun in your hand that you took out and had pointed at him as you moved to stand by Ada. So she wouldn't be in the crossfire.

The man had blonde, slicked back hair and pale skin. His age seemed to be around his thirties or forties from what you could tell. He wore dark, professional clothing and donned a pair of sunglasses that covered the color of his eyes. 

The sunglasses kind of reminded you of when Ada had worn hers back in Raccoon City, as they were completely pointless in the dimmed lighting of the warehouse you and Ada had deemed appropriate for training.

“Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises.” Ada purred dryly. Her guard was up. Her mask on. Unbothered. Toeing the line between professional and flirty. She nudged you slightly, her way of telling you to put your gun down. You listened, trusting her to know how best to handle the situation.

“I'm fully aware. Don't think I have forgotten that you had backed out of our deal, Ada. You're lucky I have more important things to concern myself with other than wanting you and your little girlfriend dead.” The man said. 

Oh. 

You should have known.

This was Albert Wesker. That's why he looked familiar. You had seen a picture of him six years ago when you were snooping through files just before Raccoon city fell. You also, very clearly, remembered that this man had wanted you dead and for Ada to do the job. You wondered if that was still the case, but decided to keep your mouth shut for the time being.

“Why are you here?” Ada questioned, wanting nothing more than to get you away from the man. But, she had to engage in conversation with him. She already knew that fighting your way out of this would be pointless and needlessly dangerous for the both of you. 

She could handle this without endangering you.

“Business. I have a job for you. One that requires your particular skill set. Despite your previous failure,” Even with his sunglasses on, you could tell from his tone alone that he was giving you the side eye. “I am willing to give you another chance. And you will be paid, of course.”

Ada raised a brow as she swayed closer to shield you once more. 

“That doesn't sound like you. Giving people second chances.” She skeptically stated. Though, it sounded almost like playful teasing with her mask on. You saw right through it.

“You're not the only one who is full of surprises.” Wesker deadpanned. He seemed bored of the entire conversation.

She smirked. “And if I refuse?” Ada seemed to already know the answer to this question, but asked it anyway.

“Simple. I will kill your little girlfriend here.” He pointed toward you, before turning back to Ada. “And then I will kill you. But you already knew this. Don't waste my time with idiotic questions. Now, what will it be?”

You didn't really like being so casually threatened. But you stayed silent.

Ada glanced back at you, who was quiet throughout the conversation, debating. While you felt you both could take him in a fight, you still had to consider the alternative. 

Umbrella wasn't at all as powerful or influential as it was six years ago. Both you and Ada had a part in that downfall. You had a feeling Wesker knew this. Was he even a part of Umbrella still? Neither of you knew for sure.

But you had to assume that he still has some influence in whatever he was a part of. Meaning he had numbers. Meaning he had back up. Of course he has back up, he's not an idiot. You likely wouldn't make it out alive if Ada refused and tried to fight him off. 

All the more reason to accept his threat/offer.

You gave her a single nod, knowing she had a similar thought process as you. She knew the best way out of this situation. She knew him better. Yet she still paused for your input, making a warm feeling pool in your chest at the fact she cared about how you felt in the situation. You forced yourself to brush it off.

Now is not the time to get distracted by the love of your girlfriend.

Ada turned to face Wesker. “We're a package deal. I won't go anywhere without her.” She said, referring to you.

Wesker looked unimpressed, but accepted nonetheless. “Very well. The payment I have in mind is more than enough for two. But if she interferes with the missions in any way, you both will regret it.”

You didn't appreciate being bad-mouthed like you weren't even there in the room to listen. You spoke up for the first time since Wesker had made his presence known.

“Don't worry, I won't sabotage the mission.” You affirmed. You had a lot more unpleasant words you wanted to say in mind, but chose to not risk the situation turning into more of a problem.

Ada nodded in agreement. “I trust her more than anyone to help me get things done.” Her sincerity shone brightly through the mask she donned for Wesker. You weren't sure he even noticed, or cared to.

“Wonderful.” Wesker deadpanned. “Shall we discuss the details.”

—

You and Ada had to endure hours of debrief from Wesker. To sum it up, the mission was to take place in a village in Spain called Los Iluminados, where you were both to obtain an object called the Amber by someone named Luis. 

You've also both figured out that Wesker is part of the Organization Ada works for. And, by extension, you. The fact that for the last six years, Wesker knowingly and purposely spent the entire time staying out of your radar left you uneasy. If he wanted you dead before, why didn't he just kill you himself? He had the power.

Not knowing exactly what he was planning left you both feeling extremely uneasy. You only had educated guesses based on his past actions to go off of.

“Hey, you know everything is going to be fine, my love.” Ada voiced after you both searched the hotel room for hidden wire taps or anything that Wesker could use to spy on you with. It was clear. You could speak freely.

Her mask was off. The true Ada you know and love returned. Sincere and loving as always, worried about you and how you felt. She could sense your unease from a mile away and wanted nothing more than to comfort you.

You took off your jacket and tossed it on a lounge chair, before facing her fully. “I don't like it, Ada. I really don't.”

She nodded in agreement. “Believe me, I'm not a fan either.” 

“The fact that this entire time we have been together, Wesker knew and did nothing? It worries me.” You said.

“Well, we both suspected he was fully aware of everything. Why is it so surprising?”

“Suspecting and knowing for sure are two, very different, things. I had a small peace of mind when I was oblivious. Now I want to know what the hell he is planning.”

“The only person who knows Wesker is Wesker. Not even his closest 'friends’ know him well.” Ada said. She walked over to the loveseat placed in the very large hotel space. She sat down and encouraged you to sit right next to her.

“Still, six years and not a peep. No threats. Then suddenly he needs you.” You ranted as you sat beside her, on her right side.

“It could be a test. To see if I can be trustworthy.” Ada stated a possibility.

You paused, thinking for a moment. “He sees you as a means to an end. This mission is dangerous. It's very similar to Raccoon City. If you fail, if you die, he'll just send another.” 

Ada smirked, knowing you were right. It does seem like Wesker. “Sounds spot on, my love. He was saving all of his threats until we were needed for a suicide mission. He is sending all of his untrustworthy people first. If we die, which he could think is likely, then his problem will be solved.” She said to you as she placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

You lay your head upon her shoulder with a sigh. “What if we don't die and we succeed in getting the Amber? Will he actually pay us or will he kill us?”

Ada paused. “I'm not entirely sure. Though, I am willing to bet that he won't just let us go without issue.”

“So, we won't hand it over?”

“We'll decide that when the time is right.” She shrugged.

“I don't know how I feel about going to this village. From what Wesker said, it's a little too similar to Raccoon City for my tastes.”

“I agree. But we won't be there for very long. Plus, we'll be right by each other's side throughout the whole thing. You have my back, I got yours, right?”

You nodded sincerely. “Of course. I've got you.”

Ada smiled, “And I've got you.” She pulled you even closer to her, if that was even possible. While you always felt safe in Ada's arms, she always felt the same way in your own. It was a mutual comfort.

You turned into a more comfortable position to return the hug properly as you both sat there in a comfortable silence.

“Guess that vacation will have to wait, huh?” You muttered quietly into her shoulder. She hummed with laughter as she held you tightly.

“Seems like it. Don't worry, I'll make it to you eventually.”

[gumnut-logic]

Reassurance

Had a crappy day, have no brain, so wrote soppy goop.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for reading through said soppy goop. I may have to offer her a long term dental plan for her sacrifice.

I hope you don't drown in the goop.

-o-o-o-

He startled awake with a gasp.

Oh, god. Oh, god, no.

The nightmare drifted away leaving terror in its wake.

Please, god, no.

Virgil rolled over and untangled himself from the bed covers. The clock on his nightstand cheerfully claimed it was 4am.

He had only slept an hour.

Oh, hell.

He pushed his protesting body to sit up on the side of the bed, his bare feet catching in the carpet. His head fell into his hands as phantom images from his brain bounced back and forth and sweat dripped down his spine.

They were all okay.

It was just a stupid dream.

They weren’t…

He shoved off the bed and stumbled into his bathroom, hitting the light and almost blinding himself. Cold water on his face brought back reality.

His family was safe in bed.

Not dead.

Not dying.

Not screaming his name.

He groaned, closed his eyes and ran wet fingers through his hair.

Goddamnit.

He shoved a towel into his face and through his hair. Killing the bathroom light, he strode back into his bedroom, letting his eyes adjust enough to find an old t-shirt and shove it on. He pushed open the door to his rooms and stepped out into the silent hallway.

The transparent roof let in the waning moon and starlight just enough to see and Virgil made his way quietly down the hall to Alan’s bedroom.

He’d done this so many times before. Snuck into bedrooms to check on family simply because he needed a little reassurance that they were still there, still safe. To abate the terror that gnawed on his mind.

Alan was there. His littlest brother was curled up on his rug on the floor, soft breaths teasing the fibre strands in front of his face.

Virgil couldn’t see much.

But he could see enough.

He approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb and crouched down beside the kid genius with a big heart.

Allie’s face was slack in sleep, a mere shaping of shadows in the pale light from the hallway. The bandaid on his head wasn’t an injury, just a scratched pimple to prove he was still a teenager with teenager problems.

Beyond the rocket and the death-defying feats.

Virgil rested a hand ever so softly on his little brother’s arm and whispered, “Love you, Allie.”

Alan shifted and Virgil lifted his hand away. He pushed himself to his feet, ever so embarrassed should he be caught, and slipped from the room on silent feet.

He closed Alan’s door quietly and leant against the corridor wall.

Was it wrong to need the reassurance? Was he being stupid?

He swallowed, took a couple of steps and stood in front of Gordon’s door.

His military brothers were lighter sleepers and he had to be extra careful.

Gordon was tangled in his bed sheets as usual and Virgil had to fight the urge to untangle him. Messy golden hair lit up in the pale light and Virgil crouched down beside his fish brother, eyes skipping over the scars set in relief by that same light across Gordy’s back.

His brother was breathing, breath drawn in and out with the occasional snore.

Virgil dared not touch Gordon, no matter how much he wanted to. But he did watch him for a moment, etching proof of life into his brain.

“Love you, Gordy.”

Gordon grunted, grabbed a chunk of bed sheet and hugged it to his chest.

Virgil bit his lip and stepped back, slipping out the door.

He let a breath go once the door was closed.

He had to leave the residential rooms to track down his space brother. He had a pact with Eos, bribed with processors so she wouldn’t tell John.

Entering the empty comms room revealed just a hint of the coming day as the faintest of lines on the horizon to the east. Traditionally, his military brothers would be up within the hour, but considering how late they all made it to bed, John had probably cancelled all the alarms and put IR into passive mode.

Virgil couldn’t remember if Scott had given the order. He had been too strung out, too exhausted, too terrified of what almost happened and how lucky he had been.

“Eos, report on John please.”

“Good morning, Virgil.” Her voice was soft, under strict instruction due to mistakes past. “John is currently sleeping quietly. All vitals stable. He drank water before bed and has been undisturbed.”

“Thank you, Eos. Visual, please.”

“Are you sure? John has been teaching me about privacy and-“

“Eos, please. I need this.”

There was silence a moment before the holoprojector lit up, bathing the room, and Virgil, in blue.

John slept curled on his side, hands bunched up under his chin, hair in his eyes.

Virgil smiled despite himself. John had been fighting that cowlick since he was little. During the day he had it under control with all the product deployed, but at night it ruled and John surrendered.

It made him look so young.

And so atypical of his usual neat appearance.

“Love you, Johnny.”

This time he could reach out and run his fingers through photons. It wasn’t enough but it was something.

Staring a moment longer, he reached down and turned the projector off.

Night returned to the room and his eyes dazed with after images.

He took the opportunity and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with tap water and sculled it down.

The cool liquid sucked the heat from his belly.

He left the cup on the sink and made his way up all the stairs and back into the residential hallways. Part of him always wanted to visit his grandmother and Kayo, but there were limits to the breaches in privacy he was willing to commit.

Standing in the hallway outside their doors, he whispered words into the woodwork and left them undisturbed.

At the end of the hallway, lay Scott’s rooms. He knew he was always welcome there. In his big brother’s own words late at night over one too many drinks, desperate to wash away memories that hurt, Scott had said in no uncertain words - anytime, anywhere, always.

Virgil had no doubt it was the same for all his brothers, for all of them. Each of them were there for each other. They were family.

But as Virgil stood outside that door, he was still of two minds. He needed to erase that image from his dream. That last gasp of breath, that terror, and his failure to be what he needed to be.

Because the biggest fear was that one day Virgil wasn’t going to be there for his big brother and that would be it. The end. Scott would be gone and Virgil’s world would crumble.

But at the same time. All this? Was stupid. Why risk Scott’s sleep, something he sorely needed, just because Virgil couldn’t keep it together?

His back fell against the corridor wall, and Virgil let himself slide down until his butt hit the floor.

His head dropped into his hands.

His eyes clenched shut.

And he wished the world away.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t realise the door had opened until a pair of long, pyjama-clad legs folded down beside him and an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Scott’s other arm drew him in him until his brother’s face was buried in Virgil’s hair.

Virgil groaned. “Sorry.”

Scott’s breath teased his hair. “Dreams?”

“Yeah.”

His brother squeezed just a little tighter. “Same.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah.”

Virgil didn’t ask if his brother was okay, because the answer was obvious. Instead, he rested against Scott drawing in the strength for what he needed to be for his brother.

“Love you, Virg. You know that, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Love you, too.”

“Anytime, anywhere, always.” Scott’s hand moved to the back of Virgil’s neck, warm and so there.

Virgil’s eyes closed against the cotton of his big brother’s pyjamas. “Always.”

-o-o-o-

[allylikethecat]

⋆˚࿔ october prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I'm going to be so honest I'm not sure at all what happened with this one but after a not so great day I'm glad that I was able to get it done! Thank you so any and everyone who has given any of these a chance!

¹⁷⁾ spiced cologne

Matty wrapped his arms around George’s shoulders, burying his face in George’s neck, breathing in deeply the scent of his spiced cologne mingled with the smell that was so purely George, that was so purely home. 

“I missed you,” Matty said, his words muffled from the way his lips were pressed against George’s skin. 

George chuckled and Matty could feel the vibrations in his own chest from the way they were pressed together, George’s hand running down his back in a rhythm that Matty wasn’t sure if it was supposed to sooth him or George. 

“I missed you too,” said George, pressing a kiss to the top of Matty’s head, he lingered with his nose buried in Matty’s hair, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and eucalyptus shampoo enveloping him. 

“Next time you have to go to the states,” said Matty, his words still muffled because he wasn’t untangling himself from George until he absolutely had to, he was just going to live in the crook of his neck. “I’m coming with you.” 

George had spent two weeks in New York City before flying to Los Angeles for a third week to work on his new label. Matty knew that he would have just gotten in the way, he would have just been a distraction. He was supposed to be taking it easy anyway, he was supposed to be resting his body and his voice. Following George around America wasn’t relaxing in the slightest but three weeks apart had been too many weeks. 

“Sounds like a plan,” said George, giving Matty another squeeze before pulling away so that he could look at him properly. They had FaceTimed every night, but it was different getting to see Matty in person, the lines around his eyes and the gray in his hair not as prominent through the screen of their pixelated FaceTime calls. 

“Fuck,” said George pulling Matty into his arms again, “I missed you so fucking much.” 

This time it was Matty’s turn to chuckle, though he would never complain about being in George’s arms. Though, maybe they should have at least shut the front door, he thought, the cold, autumn air starting to seep into the house, the neighbors cat that always jumped up the wall into their garden meowed, peeking his head into their foyer with interest. 

Matty hadn’t even pretended that he wasn’t waiting, watching the front door as he tracked George’s journey from Heathrow back to their home in Queen’s Park. George had barely stepped inside before Matty had flung himself at him, George dropping the bags he had been carrying to catch Matty as they embraced. 

“I love you,” said Matty, tears filling his eyes. He was just so happy that George was home, that the piece of his heart he hadn’t even realized he was missing had returned, leaving him feeling whole once again. 

“I love you more,” said George and Matty just smiled, it was a familiar argument, who loved the other more. Matty was just happy that they were reunited to have the argument. 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - June 25

There’s so many fantastic stories to share this week! Check out today’s list and be sure to leave a comment and kudos for your authors! 

~*~ 

For You by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

Tony Stark is one of the earlier adopters of KinkTok, just as he was for Kinstagram, Fetlife, Grindr, and Kinkspace back in the day. It’s practically part of his job, as one of the most high-profile submissives in the country.

Steve pauses as he watches several loops through the same brief clip of Tony just slowly licking his lips and then letting his mouth fall open as he head tips back ever so slightly. #heydaddy #herewaiting the captions read, with a devil emoji.

Duet by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

“I know people assume a lot about me,” Tony concedes. “But… I wouldn’t actually mind something more traditional.”

More KinkTok shenanigans, boys falling in love, and Steve Rogers has a LOT to say to people on the Internet.

way to a father's heart by earliebirb 

Steve loves kids, and kids like him. He’s never met one who hadn’t immediately taken a liking to him. He’s good with kids. At least, he thinks he is.

But these are Tony's children, and that fact alone makes all the difference in the world. He needs to make sure that he gets along with them. Otherwise, he can kiss his chance to be with Tony goodbye.

you are all I was hoping for by xWinterDreamsx

His life had been so much emptier without Tony in it, and he missed him. He missed him so much that he felt better being in his company for even a little while.

Once More for the First Time by nostalgicatsea

It was like clockwork. Get together, do a mission, part ways.

Steve wondered what would happen if he asked Tony to stay.

A New Vision of the Future by navaan 

Natasha watches Steve and figures out he's watching Tony - a lot. She watches it all become a mess and watches as Steve never stops pining.

Darling, let’s run by derelover 

Now, if I were a supersoldier, where would I go?

Tony quickly scanned the doors with his glasses for Steve. He spotted his figure behind the door labeled Margaret Carter, Director.

Of course. Where else would he be? Tony thought wryly.

Momentum by Arukou 

He had said “resentment is corrosive.” He had shaken Steve’s hand, had nearly said more. He wanted to say more, but what was left to say? “Resentment is corrosive and I hate it, but I still feel it, and also I feel a lot of things about you and I don’t know how to untangle them all?”

Blue Movie by BewareTheIdes15

Alright, look, confession - Tony has been masturbating to Captain America since he was thirteen.

Relax, Darling by valdomarx 

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Breathless by msermesth

Steve can still hear bombs going off; he knows that the fight isn’t over yet. People need him to be Iron Man and instead he’s here, behind the front lines, being pampered by man with eyes that make him shiver.

Or: A Bullet Points AU where Tony was the technician that helped remove Steve from the Iron Man armor during World War II.

I'll always come back (to you) by Betta3x9

Tony remembers every one of his lives.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

When Our Day Comes by thepartyresponsible

“Damn, Rogers,” Tony says, “did Lady Liberty teach you to kiss like that?"

Steve blinks at him. He’s always been distracting. He has always been the kind of beautiful that can break necks when he walks into a room. But this close, the view is downright devastating. Tony’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, red and wet, and he almost forgets how breathing works.

“Well,” Steve says, after a beat, “she is French.”

hold fast by meidui

“What?” Steve asks finally, putting down his pencil and staring right back at Tony.

“Nothing,” Tony says. Then he reaches out and thumbs at the corner of Steve’s mouth, eyes crinkling when Steve’s eyes go very wide. “So serious, you.”

I Tell You That I Think I'm Falling (Back in Love with You) by MayBiTheWay 

When Tony said “I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” as he gave the shield back to Steve, not in a million years he’d thought it would actually happen. Yet there it was, right in front of him, ‘the one that got away’ playing with his daughter in the snow, shield by their side dutifully waiting for them to get back on top of it.

Endgame, Not Checkmate by geekymoviemom 

“Tony?” Steve asks as Tony immediately taps his screen to life, calling up the specs for what looks like a new set of his nanite armour.  “Um… aren’t you going to take it easy for a while?”

 Tony frowns at Steve over the top of the screen.  “Ah, no?  Why would I do that?”

 “Maybe because you almost died?” Steve blurts out.  “I mean, just yesterday you were—!”

 “Yeah, you're right,” Tony cuts in.  “But that was yesterday.  And since now it’s today, and, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, then I need to get back to working on some stuff.” He shoots Steve a grin, like that somehow makes it okay.  “You're welcome to stay and watch if you want.”

 Against all odds, the Avengers have beaten Thanos. But when Tony fails to see that victory for what it is, Steve decides the only way to get him to see reason is to confess the secret he’s been harbouring for way too long.

a beast of a burden by meidui 

Tony has secret conversations with Steve that even Steve isn’t privy to, even now.

In those secret conversations, he says exactly the right thing to make Steve duck his head and smile, and when he confesses that Steve is the most infuriatingly beautiful thing the universe has ever come up with and he’s been madly in love with him for years, Steve admits he feels the same way.

Then there are the conversations they actually have, which tend to go much worse because Tony is sarcastic and Steve is seething, and it’s a miracle they’re back on speaking terms.

[descendantofthesparrow]

POYW Rewrite V2 - Harry Hook x reader - P13

outfits; (y/n) and Harry

Gil

=

The cathedral where Ben would be crowned king was as grand and royal as the rest of Auradon-decked out in gold and blue with a royal blue carpet to lead into the cathedral itself. The crowd outside-ready to welcome their new king-was huge, all cheering and waving banners for their prince.

 “At last, here we are! Broadcasting live from the coronation; where Prince Benjamin will soon be crowned king! I’m snow white, bringing you up to the second coverage of who’s the fairest of them all~”

On the isle, the main four villains sat around Maleficent's old TV, EQ chucking a handful of popcorn at the screen. “That’s my line,” she squawked, mocking the princess that was once her stepdaughter. “I’m snow white~ who are you kidding, she’s definitely had work done.” She chuckled another handful of popcorn and Maleficent side-eyed her botched Botox.

Hook and Gaston were at Gaston’s brawler bar-everyone watching the screen in impatient silence while their kids were at home-also watching the coronation on their cruddy TVs.

“Where’s Harry?” CJ asked, the smee twins sitting at her feet as she had claimed the couch in the captain's quarters(Harriet's ship). Harriet shushed her, pacing back and forth as she waited for her baby brother to appear. CJ groaned, letting her head fall back. “But this is so boring! Can’t we speed it up to the part where Harry steals the wand?” Harriet rolled her eyes, smacking her forehead.

“This is a live broadcast CJ, we can’t speed it up, we just have ta wait and see.” Harriet muttered, continuing to pace as CJ blew a raspberry, leaning on her palm as Snow White continued to drawl about the coronation and its guests(and their outfits and hair).

Uma leaned towards the tv sitting above the kitchen window as Fairy godmother appeared on the screen and revealed her wand, her mouth going dry at the sight. But where was Harry?

-

Harry swallowed as the limo slowly drove up to the cathedral-the two of you being one of the last to arrive before Ben and Mal made their appearances. The windows were down-letting everyone see their faces as the crowd cheered and waved. You turned to look at him-seeing the nervous look on his face and grabbed his hand, smiling. “Everything’s going to be okay,” you said, squeezing his hand.

He had trouble smiling back, fiddling with a blue box in his other hand-where the antidote was kept. You tilted your head at it, only now just seeing the box. “What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box with your free hand. Harry shrugged, handing you the box and you untangled your hand from Harry’s and opened it, seeing a single chocolate mini cupcake.

"Fer ye, I know ye like ta have snacks,” Harry muttered, sniffing as you examined the cupcake. “fer after the coronation, ye know-wait!” without waiting, you popped the whole cupcake in your mouth, licking your lips as Harry stared in horror.

Oh fuck.

“It’s not bad, but could’ve done without the anti-love potion ingredients,” you muttered and Harry blinked, fear clutching his chest. “you-you knew?” Harry breathed, his ears starting to ring and his lungs just wouldn’t expand. You turned, nodding, giving him that smile that made him pause.

“Yeah, from the very beginning. I’ll explain more later-but-magic doesn’t work on me. The potion never worked in the first place.” You closed the box, seeing you were arriving at the cathedral. Harry just stared-now just utterly confused. You took his hand again, showing off your ruby necklace. “Just know, I didn’t fake a damn thing.” Yu leaned in, kissing his cheek and then nodding at the door-one of the servants opened it and Harry stepped out, turning to help you out of the limo-his mind still going miles a minute.

You knew. You knew.

You knew about the love potion-did that mean-you knew everything else? You looked up at him, and smiled, still holding his hand. “let’s get inside,” you whispered, walking up the stairs together and bowing to Adam and Belle before heading inside, spotting Gil and the others up on the balcony. You took your place up in the front, leaving space for Mal as everyone began to gather along the blue carpet; waiting for their King.

-

Uma’s breath was stolen as she saw Harry step out of a sleek black limo-looking so handsome and almost like royalty in a fine red tail coat decorated with gold, his hair brushed back and his bangs curling over the left side of his face. Then he turned-helping the girl out of the limo, holding hands with her the entire time as they walked up the steps and disappeared into the cathedral.

“And here is (y/n) with her boyfriend, Harry Hook! Both looking fabulous in their red outfits! Let’s see who they’re wearing~” Snow White prattled off about designers-one of which being Evie-but Uma didn’t care.

“So (y/n) is her name,” Uma muttered to herself, not a single soul in the chip shop speaking, everyone-including her mother-was watching the coronation today, crowding around any TV they could to see the vks finally nab that wand and free the isle.

James curled his lip at the sight of you, hoping his son would do the ‘right’ thing and nab that wand, leave you behind, and come free him-he could taste the blood of Pan and the lost boys.

Revenge was near.

-

Harry took a deep shuddering breath as Adam and Belle took their places at the two thrones on the platform-FG standing a few steps down with her hands delicately placed in front of her. Mal joined him at the front and they shared a look-their eyes drifting back to the wand.

It was so close, one of them could easily just take it now.

The choir began to sing and nerves settled in Harry’s stomach, he reached out-taking your hand and squeezing it. you squeezed back, watching the grand doors as two servants opened them-and there was Ben, in his princely(soon to be king) attire, his head held high and walking straight down the middle of the carpet, just as he had rehearsed so many times.

The guests all bowed as he walked past, Mal and Ben sharing a smile as he made it to the platform. Harry took another breath as he stood straight, swallowing as Ben kneeled before Fairy Godmother, watching as she bowed to Adam before taking his crown-turning and placing it upon Ben’s head.

Ben took a deep breath, looking back up at FG with a proud smile on his face. Adam removed the case around the wand and Mal gasped, her grip tight on her skirt-staring at the wand. They could do it right now, they could just take it. Belle took the wand from its stand and handed it to FG, who bowed her head and turned to Ben, holding it delicately-speaking in a loud and clear voice, filled with pride.

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the peoples of Auradon; with justice and mercy, as long as you shall reign?”

Ben nodded, his eyes filled with beaming pride and excitement. “I do solemnly swear.” He said in a clear voice, ready to take on the difficult commitment that would last until his heir was ready to take the throne.

‘grab the thing already!’ Mal could hear her mother's voice in her head-like a cruel conscience. Harry gripped your hand, licking his lips nervously. 'Don’t mess this up Harry,’ he heard Uma say, he felt the weight of the shell bracelet on his wrist-his hook hanging from the loop on his pants.

Mal looked back at the balcony, seeing her friends. All just as nervous as she was; all just as unsure as she was.

Was she really going to do this? Could she do it?

She didn’t have a choice.

None of them did.

“Then it is my honor, and my joy; to bless our new king,” FG tapped Ben’s shoulders with the wand, holding it up and about to bless him when it was stolen from her-everyone gasping as the thief fumbled to control the wand, wielding it dangerously as it sparked and shot a beam of magic out of the cathedral-blasting a hole in the barrier.

Maleficent cackled as she saw the wand get snatched-assuming it was her daughter or Hook’s son. “Yes!”

James roared with victory, Gaston laughed with devious intention-finally, Belle would finally be his! Uma’s jaw dropped, throwing her hands over her mouth. They did it!

“They did it,” Harriet muttered, her eyes on the tv as the cameramen panicked and failed to show who exactly had taken the wand.

But everyone could feel the shift as the barrier broke-it was only a hole-but it had been broken. And magic now reigned free. Maleficent cackled, summoning her scepter and disappearing in a swirl of green smoke-beelining it to Auradon.

But it wasn’t Harry or Mal who had taken the wand; it was Jane, her face red with frustration as she attempted to gain control of the wand. “Child what are you doing?!” FG screamed, reaching out to her daughter as Jane whirled around-the wand overpowering her untrained body.

“I want everything to go back to how it was!” Jane screamed, in just a month-she had gained new friends, long flowing hair, a boyfriend, and popularity-only to lose it in a day; all because of her stupid mistakes-she wanted to reverse those mistakes-she wanted to be with Gil, she wanted to be friends with the vks, she wanted her long hair back.

She attempted to cast a spell, one that would rewind time to last week-before she had started to drift over to being a stupid mean girl. “Bibbidi-bopiddi-boo!” the wand sparked dangerously-Jane’s mind was too frazzled to control it and it only got more out of control the longer she held it.

Harry pushed you behind him and grabbed his hook-his eyes on Jane, watching as the wand sparked and pushed Jane around like she was a ragdoll-Ben rushing to get in front of Mal and protect her as Jane yelped, her eyes filling with panicked tears as she realized she was losing more control as time went on-and the wand began to burn her hands.

Mal jumped forward-the crowd gasping as she wrestled Jane for the wand-wincing as the sparks danced across her skin. “Careful Mal!” Belle yelled, worried for the girl. Mal finally took the wand from Jane-holding it with one hand and the wand immediately calmed down-Mal breathing heavily as she stared at Jane, the younger fae staring back until she scrambled into the crowd-Lonnie pushing Jane behind her and then looking back at Mal.

Mal looked to the wand-she had it-she had the wand. She held it with two hands then, holding it away from her and straight up-backing away as Ben stepped in front of her. “Mal, give me the wand,” he breathed-holding out his hands, trying to calm Mal down as she stared at him with wide eyes, panic clear in her expression.

“Stay back-“ Mal whispered-her friends and Gil already running down the carpet towards Mal. Harry glanced at you and you looked back up at him-he took your hand and pulled you with him behind Mal, and you remembered his words from Wednesday ‘if something happened at the coronation-would you leave with me?’

You looked behind your shoulder-seeing some of the crowd-like Audrey, Lonnie, Fergus, and Doug-all staring at you with wide eyes. You licked your lips and stepped closer to Harry, the others finally joining the group as Mal ordered Ben to stay back-she didn’t want to hurt him.

Gil glanced down at you and gave you an apologetic smile-one that was barely visible as he went to stand next to Harry-his eyes back on Mal as Audrey suddenly spoke; “I told you so!” she yelled-Mal turning to her with the wand-fear filling Audrey’s face as she leaned back and her family stood in front of her-not knowing what the daughter of Maleficent would to.

Considering what happened on family day.

“Let’s go,” Carlos said, Dude at his feet and whining-it was time. They had the wand. “Revenge time,” Jay muttered, bouncing on his heels-nerves filling his body. they were going to see their parents again, Auradon would be destroyed.

“If we don’t leave now they’ll catch us,” Harry muttered, already seeing guards making their way towards the vks-but they were stopped with a wave of Ben’s hand.

“You really want to do this?” Ben asked, looking right into Mal’s eyes. She shook her head, sobbing a bit-“We have no choice, Ben,” she cried, tears already starting to streak down her face. Ben’s face fell. “our parents-“

“Your parents made their choice!” Ben said, interrupting Mal-he wouldn’t let her mother-or any of the vks parents control them anymore. They weren’t here. They couldn’t hurt them.

No one knew the barrier had been broken yet.

“Now you make yours. It is not your job to continue their work, it is not your duty to carry out their revenge. You are their kids, you deserve to be kids, you are not responsible for their choices.” Ben said, speaking like a true king.

Mal stared at him, looking into his forest green eyes and feeling her heart speed up. Not because of fear or anxiety, but because of realization and hope.

She didn’t want to leave Auradon. She didn’t want to free her mother, she didn’t want to hurt Ben, or leave him. She didn’t want to see Evie get hurt ever again, she didn’t want to see Jay sleep on the streets again, and she didn’t want to see Carlos covered in bruises and burns again. She didn’t want to see Harry limping through the wharf again, she didn’t want to see Gil hiding his pain or smarts with a dumb grin.

She wanted to be happy, and she wanted her friends with her. She wanted to stay with Ben.

“I think I want to be good,” Mal said softly-looking into Ben’s eyes-lowering the wand as she did. Ben smiled; his eyes brighter than ever. “You are good,” he said and Mal shook her head-scrunching her face up.

“How do you know that?!” Mal cried, all her life she had been taught evil, her mother had forced it down her throat. Steal, lie, cheat, deceive, plot, scheme, destroy, hurt.

How did Ben know she had the capability to be good? All she knew was to be evil.

“Because, I’m listening to my heart.” Ben said softly, smiling at Mal. She stopped, her breath catching. “I want to listen to my heart too,” she whispered, shaking her head and lowering the wand-turning to the vks. “and my heart says-we are not our parents!”

The coronation crowd seemed to relax at these words, watching the vks in awe as Mal spoke to her friends. They stared back-as if they couldn’t believe the words that were coming from Mal.

“i-I mean,” Mal shook her head, trying to figure out what to say-she turned to Jay, smiling. “stealing things doesn’t make you happy, Tourney and victory pizza makes you happy.” Jay suppressed his smile, coach smiling at him from the crowd. Mal turned to Carlos, who narrowed his eyes slightly, Dude pawing at his leg. “and you, scratching Dude’s belly makes you happy-I mean-who would’ve thought.”

Carlos snorted, rolling his eyes and looking down and Dude-who gave him a big puppy smile.

Mal turned to Evie, giving a watery smile to the girl who had become her best friend in the last few months; she couldn’t believe she ever hated her. “And Evie, you do not have to play dumb to get a guy-you are so smart!” Evie gave a laugh that was half a sob-nodding to Mal.

Mal turned to Harry and Gil, still smiling. They stared back, still untrusting of the fae that had bullied their best friend for years. “and I know we aren’t friends; we probably never will be but-I’ve seen the way you have both shined in ways I never could’ve imagined. Tourney, roar, cinnamon rolls, grapes-“ Mal laughed again, shaking her head. “(y/n).”

Harry squeezed your hand and you smiled at him from over his shoulder. He smiled back.

“And I don’t want to take over the world with evil,” Mal finally said, tossing up her hands, the wand still in her grip. “I want to go to school with all of you-and be with Ben.” she whirled around-giving Ben her biggest smile, holding up her hand which was decorated with his class ring.

He beamed back, blushing “Because Ben makes me really happy,” Mal sobbed, Adam and Belle smiled down at her-FG too-all so proud of her. She turned back to her friends, still smiling. “us being friends makes me really happy, not destroying things!” They all nodded, agreeing with her-they didn’t want to be villains, they didn’t want to do their parent's bidding anymore.

They wanted to be good, and stay in Auradon.

“I choose good you guys,” Mal finally said, holding out her fist-breathing heavily as she finished her speech. There was a pause, Jay, Evie, Carlos, Harry, and Gil all glancing at one another before Jay smiled, joining Mal. “I choose good too,” he said, throwing his fist up next to Mal’s.

Evie threw her fist up next-beaming with teary eyes. “I choose good too,” she whispered-Gil being the next with a radiant smile, and Mal now knew why Uma kept him around. He was more than just muscle. “Me too! I choose good!”

Belle let out a small laugh from where she was.

Carlos and Harry hesitated-but for different reasons. Carlos held his hands up, furrowing his brows. “So, just to be clear; we don’t have to be worried about how mad our parents will be?” Mal laughed, and so did Evie, Jay, and Ben. “Because they’re gonna be really, really mad.”

Ben stepped forward, like the king he now was. “They can't get you here.” you nodded, stepping out from behind Harry-still holding his hand as you spoke up. “And if they try, I’ll kick their asses.” Ben laughed, and Mal snorted at the thought of you kicking her mom's butt. She honestly bet you could-you were a one-woman army if she ever saw one.

Carlos nodded with a smile-joining his first with the others. “Good,” he said and the crowd cheered. All that was left, was Harry. “Harry?” Ben said as he stared the circle down-Gil looking back at him nervously. “On one condition,” Harry said, looking Ben in the eyes. Ben nodded, anything. Harry licked his lips, glancing back down at you, and then at the golden bracelet on his wrist.

“Me sisters, and me best mate Uma; you get them over ‘ere as soon as possible.” Ben nodded eagerly-that was a very agreeable condition. “Done,” Ben said, beaming. You grinned, shaking Harry’s hand a little and Harry sighed, nodding. “I won't be a goodie-two-shoes, but…aye-I choose good.” With that, Harry joined the vks, placing his hook delicately amongst their fists.

The crowd cheered-celebrating the villain kids turn to good. Mal nodded Ben over and Harry pulled you into the group. “c’mon,” Mal whispered, grinning as Ben placed his fists between hers and Evie’s smiling as the crowd roared even louder-Mal resting her head on his shoulder and sighing, finally relaxing after the last week of chaos and anxiety.

You looked up at Harry, smiling, and he smiled back-leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead.

Uma couldn’t believe her ears, staring at the tv. They had chosen good. They had indeed abandoned the isle(their parents) but….Harry was keeping his promise, he was going to get her off his rock-away from her mother. Along with his sisters.

And while Uma was still plenty angry with being trapped on this rock for 16 years by the past king for her mother’s crimes, a little voice in the back of her mind said it wouldn’t be so bad. Not if Harry and Gil liked it.

Maybe she could learn to like it too. And if this (y/n) girl made Harry happy, then Uma would just have to accept it and move on.

She was going to be free.

James and Gaston stared in pure rage, the two staring to destroy the tables around them and throwing mugs as they went-they would destroy their sons if they ever showed their faces again. They had betrayed their fathers, they had raised them, protected them, and taught them everything they knew! And they do this?!

Harry and Gil would be dead if their fathers ever saw them again.

The camera suddenly malfunctioned-only the audio remaining-the sound of Maleficent cackling resounding through the speakers-and the cathedral.

The vks, you, and Ben all jumped back, eyes wide as a cloud of green smoke smashed through a window and hit the floor, filling the room as the crowd went silent with horror.

Harry pulled you behind him-holding his hook protectively. He looked to your friends, Lonnie, Jane, Fergus, and Doug; and swiped his arm across, yelling out in panic. “run!” but before anyone could move, Maleficent cackled again-freezing them in their place with fear.

Maleficent formed from the smoke in all her glory and the dragon's eye glowing in her hand. She beamed, throwing her hands out dramatically.

“I’m baaack!”

-end of part 13-

permtaglist!

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R!POYW v2 taglist!

@reallysparklychaos @tzurue @evilunicorns4minions

[rosslynchsslut]

Christmas Lights (Chris Sturniolo x Reader)

Summary: Chris and you are putting up Christmas lights, but Chris is pretty distracted by the super short pyjama shorts you're wearing.

WARNING: smutty, makes out sesh, p in v, overstim, pet names (mamas, baby, ma), soft dom!Chris, minors dni, 18+, Chris has a thing for your thighs kinda?, fluffy, unprotected sex (fem is on the pill, always be protected)

Chris's P.O.V

Y/N had been trying to put up lights since Thanksgiving barely fucking ended. She was a Christmas girl, everything had to be decorated by December the 1st and I had to be the one to help her with the task of untangling the lights and putting ornaments on the tree on the spots she couldn't reach. But plans changed ridiculously, I had to go to LA the on the 1st, so I couldn't help her decorate. Now, its the 12th and Matt's driving me over to her place. I decided to send her a heads up that I was coming home.

Me: hey bby, I'm omw

Baby💕: srsly? Today?

Me: yep

Baby💕: good, missed u. be home soon stay safe

Me: I will

I couldn't help the dumbass smile that I tried to fight off my face from forming. She was sweet for no reason all the time basically, it made me feel like more of a douchebag than usual.

Matt pulled up to Y/N's house that was already brightly lit up with colorful lights. The lights were on inside too, I thought she'd be in bed it was pretty late. "'Kay, thanks for the ride Matt." I quickly said gathering my shit and hopping out of the car without waiting for Matt's response. I quickly walked up to the front door and knocked, eager to get out of the cold and into the arms of my awesome girlfriend. I heard her giggling and tripping over air probably and I felt a smile creep onto my face yet again. The door swung open abruptly and she squealed before hurling herself at me. As we were hugging, I couldn't tell if she was crying or laughing or both. "God Chris, I missed you so much you idiot!" "I missed you to, ma." I carried her through the doorway and kicked the front door closed behind me. And my jaw dropped. The house looked amazing and totally decorated for Christmas. Lights lined every fucking corner and there was a gigantic Christmas tree by the couch with already presents underneath. "You like it?" She asked, kissing my cheek while wrapping her arms around my waist. "You did all this by yourself?" I breathed out, knowing very well she did I just loved messing with her. She held her chest in faux-offense "Uh duh, I live alone Chris. But its not done coz I still have to hang these lights up near the ceiling." She grabbed a stack of lights from the couch and only then did I notice how short her shorts were. Her short ass had to stand on her tip toes to reach the edge of the wall and when she did her shorts rode up revealing the curve of her ass, and I wanted to take her right there.

Y/N's P.O.V

I curse God for making me so goddamn short, it made Christmas decorating so much harder than it had to be. I was so close to hooking the light on the thin nail when I felt the large, warm hands of my boyfriend sneak around my back to rest on my abdomen underneath my shirt. I hummed in annoyance trying once again to hang the lights on the almost fucking invisible nail while Chris began to mouth at my neck. "Oh my god, Chris! You're amazing and awesome but I really want to get these up tonight." I half-giggled half-seriously told him. His lips were warm and comforting like his hands and I missed him so much that I admit I am definitely touch starved. He didn't stop the activity of his lips on my neck, and he began to rub soothing circles on my stomach. "God I love you, C-" I interrupted myself with a quiet moan as his tongue licks from my earlobe to where my neck and shoulder meet, he laughs at my reaction and smiles against my skin. He continues to nibble and suck my sweet spot causing me to lay head back on his shoulder and moan again with more intensity. He moves his hands from my stomach to take the lights from my hands and throw them carelessly away from us. I take the opportunity to spin around and press my lips against his, both of us groaning at the contact. Soon after the kiss becomes teeth, spit and tongue fighting for dominance over the kiss. I grab a fist ful of Chris's shirt and walk him forward to the couch, lay him down and straddle him without parting our sloppy kiss. I really wanna suck his dick so fucking bad right now.

Chris's P.O.V

When Y/N threw me back on the couch, I felt my dick twitch. She was so sexy but not in charge. I removed my lips from hers, a string of saliva connecting between our mouths. She already looked fucked out, face flushed, pupils blown wide and hair a complete mess. She was beautiful like this and I liked how no one else could see her like this. When she tried to kiss me again, I grabbed her hair gently giving her a reminder of who was really in charge. Her moan and nod were incredibly sexy and it went straight to my dick. I pulled her by her hair into a needy kiss, i wanted to feel her everywhere. Again I detached from the kiss and took off her shirt and bra, while she struggled to pop the buttons to my jeans. I laughed aloud a she bent down to use her teeth to get the metal button out of the fabric hole. "The one time you wanna wear jeans! Are you gonna help me asshole?" Her glare made me laugh again and I moved her head away from the jeans and unbuttoned them easily. Her face was adorable, filled with disbelief and betrayal. "Lay back for me mamas, let me see you." I whispered as I took off my jeans fully. Doing as told, Y/N laid on her back half naked and a horny expression on her face. I gave her a once over and bent over her to kiss her, my hands sneaking up her shorts to feel her wetness, she wasn't wearing any panties. I let a moan slip from my lips as I dragged my fingers through her slickness. Her gasps egged me on, and I slipped in two fingers. Almost instantly her back arched off the couch and a heavenly moan fell from her agape mouth. I began to be painfully aware of my growing hard-on in my boxers as I fingered her pussy. I think I could just cum in my underwear on the fact she was moaning so loudly and her back was arching so beautifully. "Louder baby, let me hear you." I urged her on as she began to gasp "ahh fuck, fuck" over and over signaling that she's close to her climax so I removed my fingers. "What the fuck? Yunno I was close!" She sat up on her elbows to stare me in the eyes, but I wasn't threatened. Instead maintaining the eye contact, I put the fingers that were giving her so much pleasure in my mouth moaning at the taste of her pretty pussy. Her mouth fell open again with a gasp of "Fuck" and I scoffed.

Y/N's P.O.V

When he scoffed, I swear I got wetter than before. Seeing Chris lick me off of his finger I loved so much did so many things to me and I felt like begging for his dick inside of me. I didn't know if I could take this anymore. "Chrissy, please fuck the shit outta me. I miss you, bub." The innocence in my voice tied with the nickname I could tell did something to him because his dick twitched and his pupils flooded with a newfound lust. He took off his boxers and I almost drooled, his pretty cock to finally freed from the black constraints of his underwear. "You wanna beg me again, mama?" His voice was whiny and filled with need but still so dark and sexy that I felt like I could've came. "Fuck me," I licked my lips, "Pretty please, baby." He whispered a "fucking god" and he snatched my shorts off. Finally, I was getting what I wanted for 11 days. "Yes, yes, yes" I whispered like a mantra and he jerked himself a couple times before aligning his leaky pink tip with my drooling entrance. He bit his lip and slid in, my back arched immediately. The pleasure-pain mix was so delicious my toes were already curling. "Fuck, fuck, ma... You're tight." He was whimpering as he bottomed out and laid his weight on top of me. I pulsed around his dick, pulling a breathy groan from Chris's pretty lips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I began to rock my hips into him giving him the green light to hurry up and fuck me until I couldn't walk. He began to snap his hips into me, already going fast and hitting my g-spot with every thrust "Ah ah ah, god Chris" I moaned out as he threw his head back with a deep groan. His skin was flushed and his hair was wild, his lips were wet and swollen and I was proud of how I always made him like this. How I was wrapped around his dick, pulling whimpers from his throat. I reached up to touch his face and he looked down at me, slowing his thrust and hitting deeper bruising my cervix in a delicious way. "Oooh, Chris..." My voice was shrill and worn but it all felt so good. He grabbed my thighs and wrapped them around his back pounding into me once again, moaning and groaning louder while his heavy balls smacked against me, I felt so close. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" I gasped out, my warning that my high was almost there. "Yeah, mamas, let go come on. Cum, please fuck, yeaaah." Chris was so into it and his raspy voice pushed me to the edge, my orgasm washing over me in a powerful wave and it felt so good.

Chris's P.O.V

"Ahhhh!" Y/N yelled as her orgasm came over her, coating my dick her her essence. God, it was hot and I coukdnt help but to fuck her harder. I wanted to pull one after another out of her until she was spent. She yelled about the overstimulation and I laughed cruelly. "Yeah, you can take this dick ma. Imma make you take it." The cry that came from her throat threw me over, shooting my load into her pretty cunt but I couldn't stop I was so pussy drunk. I kept fucking into her, feeling my dick become over sensitive and our whimpers and moans mixing in the air as well as the smell of our sex. "Chrissimgunnaaacummmahh" I heard Y/N moan and cry out, I felt like I was going to too, so I grabbed her hand and pressed it to the couch. "Hold out f'me baby, I'm so close, ah fuck!" I put my face to her neck, I felt like I wasn't close to her even though I was literally inside of her fucking my cum into her over again . she just had that amazing effect on me. "FucckimcummingAhhImcumming" her words were slurred together and her rope snapped at the same time as mine. We were definitely going to get a noise complaint from her neighbors but the feeling was so overwhelming I couldn't give a fuck right now. "Oh my god, fuck ma." I laughed, it hurt pulling out of her soaked cunt, we both winced. She weakly smacked my chest, and gave me a smile that almost made me hard again. "I hate you" she whispered pulling me into a kiss. "I love you," I mumbled against her lips and walked away to get a rag to clean us up. Yunno, this was the best Christmas ever.

(kinda long, hope you enjoyed!)

[willowmckinley]

Would love some director’s commentary on this section of “Five Card Spread:”

Raylan fell to the floor, slipping into death. Shadows welled up to engulf him, and they fell away to reveal his skeletal remains, dressed in a black shadows.

The gold of Boyd’s soul was already leaking from the wound. Raylan pressed his skeletal hand down over the wound, doing his best to hold the rest in. He spooled the gold thread that had already escaped with his bony finger.

He took his time to collect it nicely. He made so many mistakes as a child. As he collected Boyd’s soul, he realized how badly he had tangled it. Raylan was such a fool boy. He unspooled Boyd’s soul. In death, he spent ages upon ages untangling the mess he had made of the thread. He wrapped it around his wrist, making sure it held well.

He rewrote reality. Boyd was dead. Boyd was alive. Boyd's chest was pierced. Boyd’s chest was fine.

Raylan pulled out a pair of scissors from his breast pocket. He called his own soul out, so he could clip about six inches. He tied the gold tight to Boyd’s own, before sending both strands home.

Raylan slipped back into life as Boyd opened his eyes. Boyd sat up with Raylan’s help. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing that keeps getting easier and easier,” he said with a slight groan of pain.

“Where—what happened?” Ava swallowed. Raylan didn’t know how long he spent in death.

Blues and reds flooded the floor through the windows.

“Can we say this was an accident, Ava?” Raylan asked softly.

“What?” she asked.

“Boyd won’t bother you no more,” Raylan said, “I promise.”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep, Raylan,” Boyd scolded.

“Please,” Raylan begged.

Ava scowled. “Oh, well, if you promise," she said, bitter and sarcastic.

Awww, thank you, ac :D

While writing this scene, I had worried that I would have implied that Boyd only became a criminal because Raylan "tangled" his soul. At least with commentary, I can at least make it clear that Boyd became an asshole militant all on his own, haha.

The tangling itself was more of a visual metaphor for relationships and how badly we damage them without even meaning to. The tangled gold thread is in its literal depiction, about Raylan, a child, stuffing Boyd's soul back in his body without care to organization because he's so fucking scared, because their daddies exert power over them they shouldn't because they're helpless, because Raylan almost lost Boyd again. In a more metaphorical sense, Raylan leaving Boyd after the mine collapse tangled their relationship, and only now is Raylan getting a chance to apologize and sort out their messy feelings.

Obviously, this doesn't solve everything, but it gives them a chance they hadn't had before. Boyd himself says that Raylan's making a promise he might not be able to keep, because the future is now dependent on what they do with this second chance. But Raylan going through the trouble of untangling Boyd's soul and caring enough to do so and loving enough to pull him back together and adding his own soul into Boyd, which gives them better odds, maybe.

The line about this being "easier and easier" was fun for me, because on one hand, this is Boyd's third time in this fic dying and being resurrected by Raylan's hand. But I did somewhat want to imply that he had other moments as well, that were shown off screen. This fic was fairly minimalistic, in that it was snapshots of their lives, and aside from Death herself, I didn't spend a lot of time thinking on the gaps. I suppose Boyd must have died once or twice in Raylan's absence, and either Raylan's Death or time brought him back, considering his soul is contractually bound to his body. The easy part wasn't from his experience dying, but the care with which Raylan brought him back to life.

As for Ava, she has been through a long day and her crush is asking for the impossible and she just killed her husband, so I think she's willing to acquiesce to Raylan's big ask, if only to be done with the day. At the end of the fic, a bunch of marshals and emts are about to burst through the door, and no one is going to have a good night, after this, considering Raylan's about to recuse himself from the case and Ava's drinking at her counter and Boyd is snuggled up nicely under Raylan's arms, but, like, both of them are super reluctant and tsundere about the whole thing.

[n1ghtwarden]

pride was a dangerous thing - a double edged sword, so rarely wielded well. and the night warden had been proud - was proud - of her home and station, of her name; of her accomplishments and glory; the way she had taken to the blade like she had been born to it ( and perhaps the blade she had survived as an infant had been an omen; a sign - her mother had said so; and once, minthara had believed her ); it had poisoned her; wounded her - stripped of rank and title, of any bonds; now alone, even in the midst of outcasts, all.

was it a weakness, then, to seek some acceptance? another failure on her part, another crack in what had once been a seamless armour. curiosity, too - another weakness; a burning desire to know - to understand. @adlishar is nothing if not a warrior; trained in the same way that the night warden has been: fight, or die. it is only natural, she thinks, to question - to compare. what she does not expect is the younger's ire; the venom -- in some ways, it cuts deeper than orin's blades ever had; another lash, another sting that bleeds into the old.

spineless. she laughs - there's no joy in it; barking, rough; hackles raised. spineless. she'd have her tongue for that - as if the night warden was not afraid; as if she was not so terrified that she could taste it - and she spits, a rare ache in her spine as she straightens.

" you were not there. " the night warden's voice is colder than a midnight spent in the frozenfar; the line of her body taut, coiled - ready to strike if provoked, if pushed. impetuous, foolish child who knew nothing beyond her rotting lich queen, and were they anywhere else, minthara would have gladly sent lae'zel to rot with her for such an insult; the sting of her failings, her sins - and the night warden's head jerks up, glancing over her shoulder; red, red eyes blazing, twin flames of fury and hurt. some nights, minthara spends hours untangling herself from the viscera and the blood orin had left behind in her mind; some nights, she is lost to it -- shattered as her mind is, the night warden remembers. she wishes she did not.

" tell me, dalhar - what would the great lae'zel, who has never commanded an army and knows only to obey the demands of generals and a false god, have done in my stead? would you have crushed them? " her fingers curl into a fist; eyes wild. " would you have cleaved ketheric thorm's head from his neck, and flattened orin's skull? " would she have plunged her greatsword into the eye of bhaal's chosen, and offered the blood to her queen? minthara has gone over the moment over and over and over and over and over and over; picking it apart piece by piece - nothing would have changed; though she would have preferred to die at that banquet table; cattle that had been bled out with the rest of her retinue. there would have been honour in that; would have been pride - not this; arguing with a child who can only imagine the horror minthara had survived.

" had the absolute come to your home with their message, had it spat upon your queen - tell me; would you not have struck it down and vowed to reduce the stones of the tower to dust and rubble? yes, it would be like you to do nothing, for you are all talk. " her fingers splay; the swing of her hand blunt as her words - a weapon, just as she is. it is all she will ever be. " you would not have survived what i did, lae'zel - and if you had, by some miracle, managed such a feat, you would be here, in my place - and i far away from your insolent tongue, oloth plynn dos. "

from here.