#temporary name ill come up with something better later

[verdeltiathedead]

thinking abt that isat outer wilds au with solanum in sifs place... who would be the other saviors? i know the hatchlings definitely being included(my idea was that they met solanum first and helped her get used to the new country and with how lost she was, and they met the others together), but who else? probably some of the other travelers. and what about the house? i was thinking maybe it was a place dedicated to studying space n such(though a little loose n such) and those room with stars were nomai themed, for those who were trying to figure out why their home and everything about them was forgotten

seeing those rooms might be odd for solanum, since to her, she only just left her home(even if she can't remember most of it), even though the nomai have been gone for a long, long time

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

okay so i got this ask on my other acc and although im planning on writing a separate fic with grayson and lyra in their tgg stage, i had a new idea for a fic that i really wanted to write!! 🤭

Ill Struggles - grayson x lyra

——————————————————

LYRA:

Lyra peeled off her sporty leggings and shirt from her body before stepping into the shower in her temporary bathroom, recalling what had happened just moments earlier.

Graysons lips on hers, his hands in her hair, hers on the back of his neck, and then— nothing.

Although, she was probably the one to blame, as it wasn’t Grayson who jackrabbited off the second they separated.

She shuddered in horror at her actions, before rubbing shampoo into her hair and rinsing it off. Showers were the only therapeutic thing in her life at the moment, and the warm water felt more like a hug than a mere liquid. Lyra stood in the shower for a few moments more, soaking in the heat, before she turned off the water and stepped out. She grabbed one of the towels and immediately froze at how soft it was. It was little things like these that reminded Lyra of the billions of dollars the Hawthorne family had to their name. She sighed and revelled in its texture, drying the water off her body. And then she was changing into clothes, and stepping out of the washroom, slipping in her shoes as she did.

She sat on her bed, tapping her fingers on the thigh. Alice Hawthorne. The name gnawed at her, until Lyra had to get up, walk over to the desk with the laptop that each contestant is provided in between phases of the game, and sit in the chair in front of the desk.

Opening up the laptop, she searched up the one name that hadn’t been able to leave her mind ever since it’d become relevant to her. Alice. Alice. Alice. Alice was a grandmother. She was married to Tobias Hawthorne. Her mother’s name is Pearl O’Day. That’s all Lyra could find.

But, her brain told her, latching on to one piece of the article she’d found, Pearl O’Day is still a lead. Lyra searched Pearl’s name, and after scrolling through media after media, finally found something that referenced her: “a porcelain antique lamp, donated by Pearl O’Day.”. Lyra read more. It appeared to be an auction site. Lyra kept scrolling down the site until she found the exact piece the website had mentioned earlier. It was donated two weeks ago. Which meant… Pearl O’Day was still alive.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. This is how she would be one step closer to finding out what Alice did to her father. If anybody would know, it’d be her mother.

A sudden grumble from Lyra’s stomachs reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in a day. Lyra glanced back at her laptop, before sighing and standing up. Better to eat now than starve later. Opening her door, she stepping outside of her room, and walked down the long, circular staircase. At the end of the hall stood a kitchen. Lyra walked up to it, and then froze once her brain realized what she was seeing.

Grayson’s body limp on the floor.

His limbs were sprawled out in an awkward way, and the sight of it brought back memories of him. The broken accent. The hands that held out the calla lily and half eaten candy necklace out to her. Her father, Tomas Tommaso Thomas Thomas.

The flashback was so sudden and fervent, that Lyra had to fight back the sickly metallic smell of blood, and the feel of it sticking onto her feet. And then she was running, shouting his name as she kneeled before him.

“Grayson?” She called to him, her voice shaky. No answer. His eyebrows were furrowed, and there seemed to be movement under his eyelids. Did he pass out? Or maybe he hit his head? Lyra breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, before placing her hand under his head and immediately being hit with the heat coming off of it. Lifting it up slightly, she glanced under. No blood. Eventually, she let her hand trail back to his forehead, feeling its warmth all over his face. He’s sick, she realized, finally breathing. She went to pull her hand away, but Grayson’s hand grabbed her arm before she could. Lyra froze, staring at him as she gently brushed her hand above his brow.

“Grayson?” She asked again, softer than earlier. He didn’t reply, but his brows furrowed deeper. He really was sick.

Lyra spent too much time staring at him, at the sweat he was beginning to work himself to, at the lines of his face, before she realized that she had to do something. Slowly and softly, she patted down his pockets, feeling for his phone. Once Lyra found it, she pulled it out of his left pocket and opened it. She stared at his lock screen, which was a beautiful picture of a sunset over a lake, before feeling her cheeks heat up as she realized that this was far too personal.

She wasn’t the person who could open up his phone without a second thought. She wasn’t that person to him. She was, however, not going to run all over the house trying to find somebody to help her.

“Siri?” Lyra asked the phones robot. The robot replied, with a “Yes? How may I help you?” Lyra mulled on that for a moment. She knew she had to call one of his brothers or Avery, but she didn’t know who. Nash, she had never met, Avery was the Game creator and probably the best person to call, Jameson was… Jameson, and Xander she had danced with at the ball. He seemed nice enough, and honestly, even though she knew this wasn’t about her, the one thing that made her believe he was worth calling was the fact that he constantly wore a smile, just like Lyra’s four year old brother.

“Call Xander.” Lyra told the Siri, hoping that Grayson didn’t have some creative name for his brothers as their contact info.

“Calling Xander,” it replied. Lyra sighed with relief, sparing one last worried glance for the sick man lying beside her, before listening to the line keep ringing. And ringing, and ringing. And when Lyra was sure that he was asleep and that there was no point in continuing to call him, he answered.

“Hey-o, Gray! What are you doing up?” he immediately said, shouting loudly with something whirring in the background. Lyra immediately flinched, and was about to reply, before Xander spoke up again.

“Jameson and I are in my lab, because you know I had to beg Avery to implement a lab in the house design, just hanging out! Say hi, Jameson!” he shouted. Lyra didn’t hear Jameson say hi, but she did hear him tell Xander to “shut off the part of the Rube Goldberg that won’t stop whirring”. Uh, okay. Lyra grimaced, before finally speaking up.

“Uh, Xander?” she said, before he could go on again. There was silence, before the whirring suddenly stopped.

“You’re not Grayson.” Xander said slowly. Lyra sighed.

“It’s Lyra Kane. I found your brother in the kitchen and…” Lyra trailed off, finding her eyes going back to him yet again. “he seems really sick. He’s passed out on the ground, and won’t wake back up. Can you come?” She pressed his phone to her ear worriedly as she waited for his response.

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Is…” Xander trailed off just as she had, and she could tell he was worried. “is he okay?” Lyra mulled on that.

“Maybe not right now, but he will be.” she replied. Lyra wasn’t the best at comforting people, but the more Xander talked, the more she was seeing him as her brother. It had always been easy to comfort her brother. There was silence, before another voice answered.

“We’ll be there in a minute.” Jameson said, closer to the phone now than he had been earlier. Lyra didn’t say another word before hanging up. Somehow, her eyes always drew back to Grayson’s, and she wondered if he was fighting the deep sleep that he was currently in. He seemed to be, with his brows that kept furrowing and going back to normal, but Lyra wasn’t sure. And, well, maybe she just wanted to stare.

Lyra slowly placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat that was coming off his whole body, and began to work his suit jacket off of him. She pulled it gently off his arms, before giving it a little tug, and yanking it from underneath him. There, she thought, now he won’t be so hot. Although, he was always pretty hot before-

Lyra cut that thought off with an expression of embarrassment before it could fully take form in her head.

“Lyra?” A voice called behind her. Lyra turned to see Jameson and Xander Hawthorne walking up to her, their strides quick and long as they walked up to their brother.

“Shit. He looks pretty bad.” Jameson swore, his face unreadable. Then he glanced behind him, staring at the living room that seemed to be a pretty close walk from the kitchen.

“Alright. Xander and I will carry him to the couch, since there’ll be no way of carrying him all the way back up to his room. Afterwards I’ll call Avery and Nash and see where to go from there.” He glanced back at Lyra. “You don’t have to stick around anymore. You should probably go back to sleep.” Lyra noticed how he used emphasis on the probably, as if it would be the smarter thing to do, but it was up to her. Lyra wondered if he was testing her from the glint in his eye, but Lyra just blamed it on her fatigue. Which, she couldn’t feel at all right now.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m going to be sleeping tonight, anyway.” Lyra said, glancing to the side as her brain sorted through what she’d learned in the Grandest Game escape rooms. Jameson just nodded, before he knelt down, holding Graysons feet.

“Hold his arms.” Jameson told Xander. Xander walked over to Grayson again, before wrapping his hands around Graysons arms as they both pulled him up. Lyra was going to walk behind them as a way to spot them in case they drop an ankle or an arm, but she decided on doing something else, and walked towards the kitchen.

Searching through the drawers, she finally found one with rags and towels. Picking one that she deemed good enough, she ran it under cold water, ringing the water out of it, before walking back over to Grayson’s unconscious body on the couch. Folding it in half, Lyra draped the cloth over his forehead, pressing it on. Immediately, Grayson’s face cleared the slightest bit, and Lyra, in all her internal struggles, forgot about everything regarding her father for a moment. Footsteps behind her dragged Lyra’s attention away from Grayson for a moment, and Lyra watched Nash and Avery approach, while also seeing Jameson and Xander share a look in the corner of her eye.

“What happened?” Nash immediately asked as soon as he walked towards the group that was huddled around the couch. Then, his eyes flickered to Lyra, and he seemed to be studying her. “Why’re you here? Were you with him when he passed out?”

“No.” Lyra immediately answered. She realized, too late, that she sounded defensive. Nash’s eyebrow raise deepened, and Lyra was quick to continue with her sentence so as not to spur the cowboy on more. “I went to go get something to eat, and found him lying on the floor in the kitchen. But he didn’t seem sick in the first phase of the Game.” Lyra furrowed her brows at Grayson. He was fine, earlier. Was he just suddenly hit with some kind of sickness? Was that even possible?

“He must have passed out from lack of sleep, or perhaps food. We all know he was spending all of his spare time catching up on work in preparation for the Grandest Game.” Avery interjected, giving Grayson’s passed out body a worried look. Lyra mulled on that. Honestly, Lyra was surprised she hadn’t passed out yet. God knows how long it’s been since she’s gotten a full night of sleep, or slept at all.

“Kid,” Nash Hawthorne said suddenly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Kid? Lyra thought. Really? “I think you should get some rest before the next phase of the Game.”

“I don’t need to,” Lyra replied stubbornly. “I’m fine with staying up.” Nash just fixed her with a look.

“Last time I checked,” He drawled, “‘staying up’ ain’t a synonym for ‘getting some rest’.” Staying up isn’t a synonym for getting some rest. Did he really think that Lyra could be easily deterred by corny made-up sayings?

“And last time I checked,” She replied, her pettiness in full force, “Kid isn’t a synonym for Lyra.” Behind her, Jameson snorted, but covered it up the second Nash gave him a look. He continued to fix her with a look, but whatever Nash saw in her expression caused him to relent.

“Listen, Lyra. Stay as long as you want, but know that you’re the only one that’s going to get the consequence from this. You need all the energy you can get for tomorrow.” He explained. “I’m not saying this just to continue with our petty disagreement. I’m saying this because you deserve to win, and I don’t want you to lose tomorrow all because you didn’t get a proper sleep.” Lyra’s brain caught on a part of his lecture: “you deserve to win”. Had he been the one to give her that note?

Lyra studied him just as he had done to her moments earlier, but she knew that he didn’t intend it in that way from the look on his face. It wasn’t knowing, or secretive. It was sincere.

“Fine,” Lyra finally relented, sighing. Nash gave her a pat on the back, before striding up beside her.

“I’ll walk ya’.” He told her. Lyra walked beside Nash and wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling the hollowness she had experienced before begin to creep back in. It wasn’t exactly what she’d found out about her father that disturbed her. It was what she hadn’t yet found out. God knows how cruel and terrible Tobias—no, Alice had been to her father. God knows how screwed she might be for complicating herself with the Hawthorne family the way she had.

But no amount of pain, or hollowness, or guilt took away the feeling that she found herself revelling in when she was around Grayson. And seeing him like that, on the floor and sick, gave her a numbing feeling that she could never even begin to put to words.

“Got something on your mind?” Nash interjected, cutting into the silence as he walked her back to her room. Lyra gave him a side-eye.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She retorted, unsure herself why she was being so petty. Nash snorted.

“Yeah, right. Believe it or not, but just because you’re a contestant in the Grandest Game doesn’t mean that you have to fend for yourself. Tell a Game master what you’re going through, and we can try and help.” He told her, his Texan accent thick. He gave her another look, but this time it was more serious. “At least tell me one thing that’s on your mind today.” Lyra had a million different things on her mind, and none of them she could admit to Nash Hawthorne. Still, Lyra sorted through which would be easiest to admit. She was never going to tell him about her father, or why she couldn’t sleep, or even begin to explain how she felt about the whole Grayson-passing-out situation, so she went for an easier one. It was the slightest bit rude, but honestly, out of all her options, it was the safest.

“These titles that you give yourselves are pretentious.” she told him, not bothering to beat around the bush one bit. A sudden laugh burst out of Nash Hawthorne, and he seemed every bit intrigued as he grinned at her lazily.

“Go on,” he told her, smiling. Lyra went on.

“I mean, seriously? ‘Game masters’? It might not seem like it to you guys, but to me, it’s honestly sounding like either a power play, or just an inability to create titles that don’t make you seem like an otherworldly being.” She explained. Nash just seemed to laugh more, and gave her a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Well, alright. I’ll take that up with Avery and em’ and see how they feel about changing up the names.” Nash said, shaking his head with laughter. “What do you propose, since “Game Master” is too pretentious of a nick name? Game Bros?” Lyra mulled on that.

“I think “Game Runners” has a better ring. It’s still similar to “Game Masters”, but there’s less of an overlord feeling to it. It’s a title that still means one who’s first in command, and still let’s everyone know that you are the “leader of games”, or whatever nonsense you tell yourself, but diminishes that otherworldly aspect that the little nickname entails.” she replied. Nash cocked his head to the side, before giving her a shrug.

“That’s not too bad of an idea. Thanks for the tip, Lyra.” he told her. And then, he stopped walking, and Lyra’s fatigue-riddled mind wondered why for only a moment before she realized she was standing directly in front of her room.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Lyra told him awkwardly, as she felt she had to say something. He replied with a firm nod, and gave her a cowboy smile as he walked away.

“G’night, Lyra.”

“Goodnight.”

Lyra waited for his footsteps to slowly fade into silence before opening her door, slipping off her shoes, and collapsing into the bed. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until she melted into the soft sheets, the mattress comfy and soft in all the right ways.

Pearl O’Day, her mind repeated. But somehow, above all that, came another voice. Another worry.

“Grayson.” She whispered. The anxiety about his state came crashing back to her, and Lyra squeezed her eyes shut. Somehow, she couldn’t stop remembered the feeling of her hand on the back of her neck. In her hair. His voice, bringing her back to the light after wading through thick darkness.

Lyra.

Come back to me, Lyra.

You will come back to me, or I will make you come back.

It was with his grounding words that Lyra felt herself slipping into sleep, focusing on a voice so close, yet so distant.

————————————

Lyra jolted upwards, her mind foggy as she tried to blink herself into consciousness.

She was dreaming— the dream, the one with her father, when suddenly, just when the guns about to go off, she hears his words.

Grayson’s.

And then, she knew. While asleep, Lyra remembered the way she saw him collapsed on the ground, and that worry pulled her out of the thick haze of a dream she was in. She didn’t know what exactly it was that compelled her to sit up. She should go back to sleep. It was only 4:13 AM. Yet still, Lyra slipped her shoes back on, brushed out her tangled hair, and padded down the hall to the living room.

Once she made it there, her eyes immediately went to the couch, and to the man on the couch.

Grayson was shirtless, with a blanket straddling his lap and one of his arms hanging off the couch. Lyra’s eyes began to travel down his body, from his biceps to his defined abs to his v-line just barely peeking out from the sweatpants he had apparently changed into, before immediately catching herself, her eyes darting back to his face with shame and embarrassment. Still, he was in a deep sleep, and Lyra was thankful for that.

She didn’t know why she was here. He wasn’t awake, just like earlier. It didn’t matter. Lyra finally turned around, ready to walk back to her room, when her knee accidentally hit the table, causing her to stumble forward the slightest bit. Lyra immediately catches herself and straightens, before seeing a metal decoration globe knock over. She barely had time to catch it when it slammed down on the table, creating a loud noise. Lyra mentally cursed herself and immediately reached to set it back up the way it was before, when she heard somebody stir behind her. Lyra set the globe down slowly, being as careful as possible, before slowly turning around.

Her amber eyes met his greyish-blue ones immediately.

“Lyra?” he asked her softly, his voice deep in a way that rang through her body as he sat up. Lyra could see more of his bare chest now, and she hated how her eyes kept begging her to give it just the barest glance. Lyra refused to though, and kept her eyes on his.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” she told him quietly. Grayson was silent for a moment, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s fine.” he replied. Lyra was about to walk back to her room, when Grayson’s sleep-riddled deep voice slowed her movements to a halt.

“Stay.” he ordered. Lyra froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“Stay,” he repeated slowly. He didn’t seem like he was going to continue, before he finally sighed and gave in. “please.” Lyra mulled on that, before providing herself, and her reddening cheeks, a distraction.

“Why’d you pass out?” she asked him. He tilted his head slightly.

“The doctor just said I need more sleep, and food. My brothers and Avery have been forcing me to rest, but I can’t bring myself to eat.” he explained. Jaw tight, he went on. “Food just… doesn’t exactly seem smart for me at the moment.” Lyra stared at him, an idea forming in her head, before walking off.

“Stay here.” she told him, although she was unsure where else he would go. Walking to the kitchen, she headed inside the huge pantry, and got some snacks from there on a plate. Walking to the fridge, she grabbed fruits, cheeses, and some other finger foods, before grabbing two more new plates, and filling up a glass of water. Walking back over to Grayson, she kneeled by the coffee table, putting her plate of foods down, as well as the two empty plates and his cup of water.

“I’d rather not eat all of that.” He stated, his voice dry. Lyra put two strawberry’s on the empty plate she put in front of herself, and then two on the empty plate she put in front of Grayson.

“It’s just two strawberries. I’d be more impressed if your body couldn’t handle two strawberries than shocked.” Lyra said, starting to bite at one of her own strawberries.

“Any ideas for what we’re to expect for Phase 2 of The Game?” she asked Grayson. Grayson stared back at her, seemingly searching for something in her face, before patting the spot on the couch beside him. Lyra raised a brow at him.

“Don’t kneel on the ground. It looks uncomfortable.” He stated coldly. Lyra just blinked at him, before snorting and continuing to eat her strawberry. Grayson sighed.

“Sit beside me on the couch, and I’ll eat the strawberries.” he told her. Lyra’s eyebrows raised. That wasn’t a bad offer, considering food wasn’t all that reliable of a substance to him currently. Getting up from the ground, Lyra took her plate, and joined Grayson on the couch. This time, she couldn’t stop her eyes from straying to his chest, but she darted them away before he could look at her.

“You didn’t answer my question, Hawthorne boy.” Lyra told him, her brow raised to give him an accusing look. He returned her brow raised with one of his own, his head resting on his hand, turned towards her. He almost smiled.

“I haven’t got a clue. Believe it or not, but my brothers aren’t cheats, and would never drop hints to me about what’s to come in The Game,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just as in the dark about all this as you are.” Lyra sighed. Then, remembering his offer for if she were to sit on the couch, she gestured to the strawberries on Grayson’s plate with an expectant look. Keeping his eyes on her, Graysons careful fingers reached out to grab one of the strawberries, taking a bite out of it. Lyra cursed herself as her body let out the slightest, almost unnoticeable shiver from the sudden eye contact, unable to control herself. However, Grayson’s prodding eyes noticed it immediately. Grayson, misreading the sudden shiver, took the blanket that was draped across his hips and draped it across Lyra’s shoulders instead.

“Thanks.” Lyra muttered, not meeting his eyes lest heat rises to her cheeks.

“No worries.” He said, his voice firm yet quiet. Suddenly, as if realizing he wasn’t wearing a shirt from the blanket not covering him anymore, (although it wasn’t covering his upper body either anyway) he seemed the slightest bit awkward. Lyra, never having seen Grayson awkward, snorted. His eyes immediately darted to hers.

“What?” He asked, from her sudden snort. Lyra met his eyes.

“You’ve been shirtless the entire time we’ve been talking. I’m surprised it’s only started to bother you now.” she said, laughing. Grayson looked surprised, before actually smiling at her. It was soft, and barely noticeable, but there.

“Very well then.” he replied, and straightened again. Conversation began to start up again, with expectations for the next phase of The Game, and comments on the last phase. Grayson ate the strawberries on his plate slowly but surely, and once he did, Lyra added 2 more foods on his plate, saying “It’s only 2 more. You really can’t eat that?”

Every time Grayson finished the tiny portions of food on his plate, Lyra added small bits onto hers and his, until the main platter, the one that held all the foods in the first place, was nearly empty. Lyra didn’t feel the hunger from earlier anymore, and her stomach was probably thanking her for finally providing it with something. She was sure that Grayson’s was as well.

Finally, now that he and Lyra had gotten some food in them, she couldn’t stop her mind from straying back to what she’d found out. About Pearl, and most importantly, her daughter. She didn’t know why her mind always strayed back to her father whenever she was around Hawthorne’s. Around Grayson.

“I wish….” Grayson started, before suddenly shaking his head firmly. “Never mind.” Lyra turned to him, momentarily intrigued.

“What?” She asked him in a soft tone. His eyes always found themselves straying back to hers, and Lyra couldn’t read the the expression on his face as he held her gaze.

“I wish your mind didn’t always go back to that place whenever you’re around me. I know why, but I……” he trailed off, his voice so quiet Lyra had to strain her ears to listen to his words. “I just wish it wouldn’t.” His words made Lyra immediately freeze, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“What place?” Lyra asked, playing dumb. But she knew. Her father. A Hawthorne did this. Alice Hawthorne.

She knew, and she hated that she knew. She hated this so much. The torn feeling in her bones that wanted to pull him in and push him away all at once.

“You know.” He finally told her, his voice low. She did know. Finally expelling a breath, she turned away from him, not wanting him to have to see the look that was currently on her face.

“What do you want me to say, Grayson?” Lyra finally said, cutting into the silence, her voice no longer quiet. He looked down.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. I myself just needed to say that.” Grayson told her. Her mind began to go elsewhere, not to her father’s death, but to the kiss.

The one she ran away from.

“I’m sorry about running. I don’t even know why-“

“It’s fine.” Grayson cut into her previous statement, his voice less gentle than earlier. Lyra felt ashamed as she turned her head, when out of the blue, she feels Grayson’s fingertips under her chin, turning her head to face him.

“Lyra. It’s okay.” He told her, his voice more gentle compared to his last statement. Lyra saw in his face the self control that he was battling with. At a loss for words, Lyra licked her lips, and immediately saw any piece of it that Grayson had left crumble. He slowly pulled her closer, lowering his head. Lyra didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t know why she felt the way she did. Push him away, her brain pleaded, he’s a Hawthorne. Forget what Odette said. He could never be your Hawthorne. But still, there came another order, one that resonated in the beat of Lyra’s heart. One she heard vividly the moment she saw Graysons eyes tick to her lips.

Go on, it whispered. Why did she feel this way?

“Grayson...” She finally whispered, her tone a statement, an accusation, and a question all at once. He closed his eyes, before finally opening them again, and Lyra could see now that the icy grey blue of his eyes earlier was now stormy, a thundercloud over a grey sea. Lyra saw, in the way that he held her eyes, that he was trying to be natural, but she could see past that to the desperation in the set of his brows. His body was rigid, so rigid, but his hand was gentle as it took the back of her neck in its soft grip.

“Please,” he whispered, his hoarse voice somehow a match for his desperate eyes, “don’t run away.” And then he was lowering his head, his eyes full of questions as it held hers. But she knew what he was asking. Lyra didn’t know what possessed her to fight down any voice of reason that was currently battling with her heart. But she did. And, as her hand gripped his shoulder, feeling his muscles, she whispered, “go on.”

Grayson didn’t hold back this time. Lowering his lips, he kissed her softly, feeling her lips like it was a temporary treasure. But Lyra didn’t want slow. The adrenaline now coursing through her body reminded her of that. Lyra responded to his gentle kiss by kissing him back more passionately.

The kiss escalated, from soft, hesitant brushes, to a need to kiss deeper. To be closer. Lyra was hyper aware of every inch of skin on her body as Grayson took her waist in his hands and pulled her closer, to the point of her almost being in his lap. Lyra separated from his lips for only a moment to catch her breath, before Grayson was pulling her back, his hands circling her waist. Her body was half draped across her lap, his hands in her hair, and every one of Grayson Hawthorne touches on her body felt magical. Suddenly, Grayson deepened the kiss, his teeth gently pulling on her lower lip before he continued to kiss her breathless. His lips were starting to trail down her face to her jaw, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched, and-

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..” came the sudden babbled interruption, the strangers voice confused and… familiar. Lyra grimaced as she immediately separated from Grayson, flying backwards from him on the couch, and locking eyes with Xander. Hawthorne. Oh no, Lyra thought, her terrified eyes a match for his awkward-yet-scared-yet-intrigued ones, kill me now. Xander stumbled back awkwardly, even as his brother quickly got up from the couch.

“I just wanted to come and check on you.” Xander stammered, his eyes still wide as he stared at his brother now walking away from the couch.

“Xander.” Grayson immediately started, his tone every bit the power-wielding man that Lyra had known in the beginning of The Grandest Game. “This wasn’t something you were meant to see.” Lyra grimaced again. Understatement wasn’t even a strong enough word to define that sentence. Xander eyes kept darting from Lyra’s to Grayson’s to Lyra’s to Grayson’s again, as if he was confused, yet unsurprised at the same time.

“I won’t tell Avery and the others……” Xander started, his shot-up eyebrows finally beginning to lower and the ends of his lips lifting. “But, you owe me big time, Gray.” Grayson’s eyes darkened heavily, and he told Xander something in a different language that Lyra assumed was Latin, his tone threatening. Xander replied in that same language, but his tone was high pitched and excited. Lyra had never wanted to speak Latin more in her life than now.

Finally, they both stopped and were staring each other down, or, Grayson was staring Xander down and Xander was beaming at him, when Lyra finally decided she had enough of this.

“I’m going to assume that this is some brotherly antics thing.” she said, cutting into their long and awkward eye contact. Xander beamed at her, squealing “yup!” the same time Grayson countered “no”. Lyra took that as her ticket to leave. Grayson did ask that she didn’t run away this time….. but did it count if she walked respectfully away?

“I should get ready.” she awkwardly said, darting up from the couch and away from Grayson. “Phase 2 of The Grandest Game is supposed to start today, anyway.”

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Grayson stated, ignoring his brother’s excited giggles at his words. Lyra remembered how Nash had said nearly the same exact thing as Grayson, and had to stifle a laugh, lest Grayson sees her randomly start laughing and thinks she’s a lunatic. Same people, Lyra thought, different forms.

She started walking before Grayson did, but after only a few moments, she heard his footsteps coming closer, before he was walking beside her. Lyra had her shoes on, and the outfit she planned to wear today, but he was only in socks, sweatpants, and nothing more.

“Do you only have these two outfits?” she eventually asked when they were just a couple feet from the door to her room, eyeing down his clothing—or lack of them. “A suit, and a pair of sweatpants?” Grayson sighed, giving her a look.

“Am I ever going to hear the end of this?” he asked her, curtly. Lyra snorted.

“It’s a genuine question.”

“No,” he replied, smiling ever-so-softly, “I somehow have more clothing than just a suit and a pair of sweatpants.” His words just kept reminding Lyra that Grayson was shirtless, and, when she turned around to give him a doubtful look, her eyes immediately were pulled to his chest. Lyra’s eyes were begging her to stay put on his defined abs, to gaze just for a moment more on his v-lines that were barely peeking out of his sweatpants, and the biceps on his arms, but Lyra ignored their demands, not letting her eyes linger on his chest for even a second before darting them back to his. As annoyingly long as the look at his torso felt, it was only a quick glance.

But she knew Grayson was perceptive.

So when his eyes immediately went from neutral to teasing and he stopped walking forwards to walk towards her, she knew that he could see right through her.

“Is what I’m wearing a problem with you?” he asked, crossing his arms with a teasing look. The ends of his lips lifted just the slightest bit from the look on Lyra’s face when he took a step closer.

“No,” she immediately replied, her cheeks growing red, “why would it be?” He did a small half-shrug.

“I could ask you the same thing.” he retorted, his curt voice coming back. Lyra realized suddenly that he was beginning to close in on her. She had her back to the wall, not yet touching it, but she would be if she took a step backwards, and he was only a foot away from her, his arms crossed as he stood over her.

And the closer he got to her, the more she found her eyes trailing right back to his body.

There had to be something wrong with her. Maybe it was just science that made a girl do a little double-take on a guy with some subtle-strength. But nothing seemed subtle about Grayson’s strength.

“You’re overdramatic.” Lyra deadpanned, stepping away from him and closer to the wall. Grayson saw right through her, and why she was trying to get away from him.

“You’re staring.” he replied, as he took a step forward. His tone was simple, as if he wasn’t accusing her, but just stating a common fact. She pushed down the urge to look away and instead just gave him a look, pushing past him and walking towards her door. Grayson followed her movements, taking hold of the knob before she could and opening the door for her.

“Such manners.” Lyra said, pretending to be in awe.

“Well, I’m trying to be polite as possible to you. I wouldn’t want to ruin my chances with the woman who couldn’t pry her eyes away from my chest all morning long.” Grayson retorted, testing her to see her reaction. She was sure that he didn’t get his answer from her slacked jaw and incredulous eyes, as those screamed “hello? vain table for one?”, but rather from the blush that crept up onto her cheeks. “Ah,” was all he said.

“You’re ridiculous.” Lyra stated with an incredulous laugh. He gave her a doubtful look. That only got Lyra angrier.

“I mean it, Grayson. You are. Maybe that sickness is causing your eyes to see things oddly.” He gave the slightest shrug, as if to say, “maybe”, but Lyra could see the humour in his eyes. He always could rile her up. Something about him just seemed very anger-inducing. But Lyra realized, that in her last kiss with him, and all the way up till now, that she hadn’t even thought of her father once. Was her mind straying from what really mattered here so quickly?

“What Odette said…” Lyra said suddenly, the topic changing rapidly. “About you and I being “the right disaster just waiting to happen”…” Lyra couldn’t help but trail off, as she didn’t know exactly how to say what needed to be said. But Grayson knew what she meant.

“I don’t believe it will impose a threat of any kind in the future.” he immediately shut her suspicions down. Lyra side eyed him.

“You wouldn’t, Hawthorne boy.” she retorted. He held her gaze, not speaking. Not until he finally did, anyway.

“It’s a chance we should take, no matter what kind of threats may impose,” he said slowly, causing Lyra’s heart to race, “for your father.” Lyra swallowed, looking down. He took a finger and nudged her chin upwards gently, his touch gentle, yet brief.

“We should take it.” he said, his voice more certain than earlier. We. For once, Lyra didn’t shy away from that word.

“We should.” she said, meeting his eyes. His own held hers, a million prospects of an acceptable form of justice for her father, and his unfortunate death. For once, she didn’t push down the desire to get that justice with Grayson.

Neither did she push down the determined look in her eyes that seemed to match his.

“Get ready, Lyra. Phase 2 of The Game is starting today.” he finally told her, smiling—truly smiling—as he pushed open her door. She smiled back at him.

But this time? Instead of it being like all those years ago when she was younger and had to continue playing the role of a perfect, happy lyra?

It wasn’t fake.

“Same goes for you, Hawthorne boy.”

————————————————————————

yes lyra may have gone a bit crazy drooling over graysons chest, but not enough writers in this fandom talk about it, so i figured i had to do you guys (MYSELF I GIGGLED WRITING ALL THOSE PARAGRAPHS ABOUT HIS ABS 🤭) a favour 🥰

also i can’t be the only one who thinks that lyra would like an old video of grayson when he was swimming and shirtless from like 2018 by accident. just me? okay 😢

ALSO YES I WILL EVENTUALLY GET AROUND TO THE ASKS IN MY INBOX. I HAD ONE I WAS WORKING ON BEFORE THAT A MOOT SENT ME BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO DOING IT BC I HAD TO WRITE THIS AND I KEPT GETTING STUCK AND COULDNT THINK OF AN ENDING AND ARGHHHHH IM SO GLAD ITS OVER

also @littlemissmentallyunstable this is kind of (REALLY) embarrassing but i DEFO looked through your entire blog to see how u finish off fics and write an ending for them bc when I tell you i was stuck… I WAS SO STUCK!!! i felt like all my endings r usually cliche and corny and BORING so yeah i had to get inspiration from the master 💋💋

[she-karev]

April and Amber Argue

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 5

Summary: Amber reveals to April about her night with DeLuca causing April to take out her conflicting feelings for Jackson out on her calling Amber selfish and destructive resulting in Amber insulting her back.

Words: 2861

April 26th, 2020

Amber is back in Jackson Avery’s penthouse feeling the wind touch her face as she leans forward on the balcony railing overlooking the city at night. It’s her first day back in her temporary home since her covid quarantine ended. Normally on a good day like today she would be celebrating or at the very least be happy to be healthy but instead she has an inner conflict that has been ongoing since she and Andrew DeLuca stepped out of that hotel room after spending the night together.

When she allowed herself to fully embrace him, she was so sure of herself and confident it was what she wanted. Amber wanted it very much because DeLuca has been taking care of her these past two weeks and overtime she’s come to appreciate his company during isolation. She didn’t think she wanted to be close to him like that again but when he took a shower in her bathroom she couldn’t resist. It was like all her memories of how he treated her over the past year left her brain and instead she felt around him how she used to before his mental breakdown.

But now she’s out of the room and all those memories came flooding back and she remembered why she is so reluctant to get back together with him. She remembered that while Andrew is more stable and taking his meds, she doesn’t fully feel like she can trust him and make herself vulnerable around him like she used to.

Her mom would be stable for a while too and then she would slip because something or someone would cause her to break. In those moments Amber had a front row seat to the delusions and aggression that unfortunately comes with schizophrenia. It frustrated Amber that she would always come second in her mother’s fractured mind, and it happened again when DeLuca was showing symptoms and would either lash out or ignore Amber completely.

And when her sweet older brother, Aaron, inherited the illness Amber was his first target during his first psychotic episode. It was a hard recovery after he beat her so bad she had to have surgery on her jaw. And it was especially hard for her to trust him around her. But she saw his regret and heartbreak the first time he visited her at their uncle’s three months after she was discharged. It was heart wrenching for her when he kneeled down seeing the post op bruises on her jaw and cried on her lap for ten minutes straight. He did something their mother never did with them, beg for forgiveness.

She could see her brother was doing the work to make sure he wouldn’t end up like their mother. He went from being a mover to a local courier so he can set up a steady routine for himself. He takes his meds every day and attends therapy with a doctor they like once a week. It was hard at first for him but he managed.

It got so to the point where he manages a moving business with a coworker friend of his. He gets to work behind a desk instead of driving around the city for hours. Aaron even met a kindergarten teacher named Emma four years ago and they married a year later and had two sons after that. Seeing him do so well and being a better parent than both of theirs combined had Amber forgive him completely and they keep in touch even while she’s in Seattle and he’s back in Iowa.

When he called her back in January she broke down in tears and confessed to him about Andrew’s mania and him kicking her out. He responded angry for her offering to come down and kick his ass. She rejected the offer knowing a duel between DeLuca and Aaron would end with her ex in a body bag. He told her she deserved better, and that DeLuca was an idiot to let her go. It made her feel better but not enough to quash the heartbreak.

Her phone rings and she picks it up and sees on the screen Mom’s name pop up to her displeasure. Amber has been dodging her mother’s calls since this year began. Being around Andrew and his chaotic mental illness triggered all the bad memories with her mother and made her reluctant to answer her phone. She could guess Aaron told their mom about the breakup and probably the covid and she wants to reach out as well. But Amber wasn’t in the mood instead opting for messages through Aaron knowing her mom doesn’t text. She hangs up the phone and puts it back in her pocket.

“Not picking up?” Amber turns to find April Kepner behind her with a comforting grin holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two straight up glasses in the other.

“It’s my mom I owe her a call.” Amber explains peeved before heading to the balcony couch, “And I will…as soon as I get some alcohol in this mouth.”

Amber plops on the couch with April joining her keeping a respectable distance on the armchair by the couch setting the items on the wooden coffee table in front of them.

April uncaps the bottle, “Jackson says sorry for not being here today he wanted to come but he had work today.”

Amber understands as April pours their glasses, “It’s fine I get it.”

“Plus, he’s trying to get Richard to talk to Catherine about wearing a mask.” April sips her glass, “He’s worried about his mom since he saw that picture of her mask dangling from her ear. She drives around town in a car with her driver and she’s immunocompromised, so Jackson is trying to get her to follow the rules so Harriet can grow up with her grandma.”

“Mothers are hard.” Amber supports with an irritated face sipping her drink, “Life is hard, everything is hard.”

April chuckles darkly, “Wow okay Edgar Allan Poe tell us how you really feel. You know for someone who just got a clean bill of health you are morose. More so than usual at least, what’s going on in your end?”

“You don’t want to know trust me.” Amber numbly replies before throwing her drink back and finishing it.

April looks worried for her friend who reaches over for the bottle to pour herself another glass, “Is this about DeLuca? I know he visited a lot when you were in quarantine did he upset you?”

Amber groans softly leaning back on the cushions with her glass in her hands in front of her, “No he didn’t he was…talking to him over the door was the only good thing to come out of this year.”

April nods in understanding, “2020 has been hard on all of us, it makes talking to your charming and stable ex over a hotel door during quarantine seem like Candyland.”

April tells her this out of understanding her friend’s predicament concerning opening themselves up to their exes who hurt them in the past. During Amber’s quarantine April comforted Jackson when he was sad about Amber, and he kissed her. She was shocked at first and told him not to do it again unless he actually wants to be with her.

When he kissed her, it was like a time machine came and took them back to when they were still married. It took them back to the blissful stage of their lives before grief and tragedy destroyed them. It was like they were back to their first night together and for a few seconds April was happy and responded back. Until she remembered their deal when she first moved in and how this hurdle could affect Harriet.

They both agreed then that the kiss was a stupid mistake on their parts that shouldn’t happen again. April wasn’t so sure the kiss was a mistake, but the uncertainty is what stops her from pursuing anything further. It stops her from repeating Montana and driving a bridge between her and Jackson that she can’t have right now. She’s not sure if she wants a relationship with him again but she is sure that she needs him in her life while the world is falling apart. It’s that thought that makes her relate to Amber on what she thinks is her considering DeLuca to be her anchor in the pandemic.

Amber sighs in agony before sipping her liquid courage so she can seek advice from her friend instead of Jackson who will most likely judge her, “It’s not that…I slept with him.”

April stops sipping and her eyes widen at this new information. Amber nods at that with a blank face before continuing.

“It happened last night, I was declared negative, he was examining me and…it was like a force took over and I gave in to him. I mean he has been so good to me while I was sick, he’s talked to me outside the door, he brought me food, he never left my side once. Seeing him like that it wasn’t the Andrew I resented for months now it was…it was like I saw the man I fell in love with.”

April sips her whiskey before responding, “So you two are back together?”

“No.” Amber exclaims before pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “I mean maybe I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Amber asks sharply, feeling triggered by her uncertainty as it reminds her of Jackson’s unsureness after Montana and after their recent kiss.

“I mean…” Amber struggles to find the words, “I wish the Andrew who broke my heart and the Andrew I fell in love with were two different people it would makes this so much easier but they’re not. The kind and generous man who got me to open my heart to him and the manic and irrational bastard who compared me to my parents are one and the same and it scares me. It brings me back to the time where I would excuse my mom’s behavior with her illness even when she got me in and out of foster care. My mom lost my trust, and so did he and I don’t know if I can do that again.”

April sighs at this is frustration feeling more sympathetic to DeLuca than to Amber that she makes clear as she coldly states, “Yeah well maybe you should have thought of that before you slept with him.”

Amber is taken back by this ice level statement from April and looks at her in blank shock. She expected comforting words and sympathy instead she’s getting snide comments from someone she considers a close friend.

Amber tries to explain to April who keeps her eyebrows furrowed and her lips in a thin line like she’s annoyed, “Well believe me having sex with him wasn’t part of my plan until I saw him and it became a moment of passion and it was-”

April interrupts rubbing her eyes in anger as she has déjà vu to when she first brought up Montana to Jackson who basically disregarded her feelings about it, “Well passion takes some thinking too Karev and unless you were possessed or passed out then the consequences of your actions are on you, and you should take responsibility instead of making excuses.” 

Amber gets defensive now, “I’m not making excuses I’m just talking to you about my feelings and my conflict about this.”

April pinches the bridge of her nose closing her eyes still frustrated, “If you’re so conflicted then why did you sleep with him in the first place? Why did you put yourself and him in this position when you could have let him walk away? Have you asked yourself that?”

Amber sips her whiskey narrowing her eyes at the interrogation, “I didn’t have time to question myself or him seeing as how we didn’t do a lot of talking last night when both of our needs were met after this isolating month.”

“Oh god don’t use the pandemic as an excuse.” April retorts with venom, “I’m isolating too, and you don’t see me jumping my ex because unlike you I care about the consequences, and I don’t use people like you do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Amber asks offended.

April wants to stop but her anger towards Jackson’s mixed signals has her taking her frustration on Amber after hearing her put Andrew through the same thing she’s going through, “You know what Amber sometimes you can be self-centered.”

Amber’s eyes widen at that as the red head continues, “I mean you focus on your needs and how something or someone can help you achieve that with no regard for the people you hurt.”

Amber scoffs at her cruelty, “Wow April, I think you hit a 20 on the harshness scale.”

“No what is harsh is you giving DeLuca hope and letting him think you guys are getting back together when you aren’t even sure he’s what you want.” April states factly, “Have you ever considered he has feelings too and how he’ll feel if you break his heart?”

“Of course I have.”

“No, you didn’t” April says with narrow eyes, “You are so caught up in your own point of view that you can’t see it from others especially Andrew’s.”

Amber looks slightly hurt by her desecration of her character, but April continues, “He has had a hard year and not just because of the pandemic. He suffered a mental breakdown, lost the woman he loves, and his home country is dying he doesn’t need you adding more to his plate. He is trying to keep his life and sanity together and you’re willing to sabotage that because you were horny.”

Amber’s mouth gaps open at that and she responds back in fury, “Okay you know what April this has been a really hard time for me and I had a moment of weakness. I saw the man I loved again, and I just wanted one night where everything was okay and after…after that I remembered why we can never work.”

April purses her lips in distaste that pisses Amber off, “What? Do you have something else to say?”

April groans sipping her whiskey, “I will not engage with you further.”

Amber chuckles sarcastically, “You know you think you’re doing me or yourself a favor by zipping it but you started this so you should have the balls to finish it Kepner. I’m here trying to talk to you about my life until you decided to point out everything, I’m doing wrong so come on I’m a big girl I can take it let’s go!”

“You are so caught up in your past you can’t move on.” April tells Amber who shakes her head throwing her hands up annoyed as April continues, “You say that you’ve worked hard to overcome everything your family did to you but if that was true you wouldn’t toss Deluca aside after he got better. He is doing everything to make things right in his life and not end up like his father. He’s taking his meds he’s going to therapy, but you still can’t see that he’s not your mom or your brother. You can’t see that he is the man you love. He’s the one with the mental illness but compared to him you have years of work to do before you can actually be in a stable relationship. And I am sorry Amber, but you are a coward for not seeing what is right in front of you.”

Amber scoffs and goes for the kill, “Oh I’m the coward? I’m the coward for leaving him after being exposed to this trauma again and leaving? You’re calling me out for leaving him when he needed me? That is a real pot kettle Kepner.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” April asks in disbelief.

Amber throws her drink back before getting down to it, “I left him because I couldn’t handle his illness attacking me, but you left Jackson because you couldn’t handle that he needed you after Samuel.”

April looks shocked at her friend going there, “You didn’t think he would need you you didn’t think he was in pain you just thought that he would be okay with you choosing a war zone over your marriage. You left him, he needed you and you left him, and it nearly broke him. Did you ever stop to think that’s why he didn’t bring up Montana until now? Did you ever think that’s the reason he is so reluctant to get back together with you?”

“I cannot believe you would-You know what.” April decides to stop before she hits Amber in the face. She puts her drink down and stands up, “Just forget it I’m going to bed.”

Amber scoffs and has a last word while April walks away, “Yeah great walk away from important things like you always do.” April doesn’t respond instead she goes upstairs leaving Amber in the balcony to drink alone now more angry than conflicted.

[escapaldi]

Yeah, the thing that I think a lot of people tend to forget about parenting is that there's a role for people that's not reliant on biological or adoptive family roles that's a lot more transient that fits Law and Cora's relationship extremely well: foster family.

I'm not here to extol the virtues or condemn the flaws of foster parenting systems, but as someone who grew up seeing the good, the bad, and the everything in between, I look at the Law-Cora relationship and very clearly see that relationship, which honestly looks different depending on the people in it. Fostering (at least where I'm from) is only meant to be temporary--anything from a weekend to a few months--but sometimes it turns out longer stays than that. It's meant for kids to have a stable place while their normal adults are working their shit out. Sometimes a foster family turns into an adoptive family, but other times they're just another group in a long chain of situations. It can be the closest thing to a family one has ever had, or just people who you later exchange cards with. Anything from "Mom" or "Dad" to "Ms" or "Mr" to just using given names like weird siblings--it's different for everyone.

Law's biological family was wiped out. He had no one. Then Doflamingo comes along and does the sinister version of adoption. This terminally-ill tween goes from one horror story to another. Say what you will, but Doflamingo was not in the correct headspace to raise children. Look at what he ultimately did to Baby 5 and Dellinger. But Law... Cora learned something crucial about him and decided that he needed to get into a better place, ASAP. He took emergency responsibility and carted his ass all over trying to get him help so that he could one day be stable, because as also ill-prepared to handle the upkeep of a child as Cora was, he had the love and compassion that his brother lacked, which is frankly the key here.

Are there other foster parents in One Piece who do things very different? Yes--I can go on a whole fucking rant about how Dadan was a piece of shit if I wanted to--but that's not the point here.

I do imagine that, should there be a Coco-style afterlife in One Piece, if there is no one waiting to greet Law when he arrives, he'll go searching for his family before all others. His parents, his sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins; he'll find the Flevench Trafalgars and they'll be delighted that he's hopefully come back to them old and gray and with a lifetime of stories to tell, of medical advancements, and the proof that he honored them by continuing their practice of medicine. That he took the hands he wanted to use to murder and used them to heal instead, because that's what we're watching Law try to do in canon. He becomes better than the soldiers who razed their home, which is the ultimate revenge.

...but then, on the edge of the crowd of his relatives, he catches sight of blond hair in a red hat and he realizes who it is, and his father urges him to go, and his mother says it's alright because they've already talked, and Law--who left the living as a great-grandfather and stoic patriarch--meets this man who died the same age as a grandkid was at his funeral and fucking loses it, because although he was far from perfect--Nika above he wasn't perfect by a long-shot--he was the first adult who cared anything close to what his parents did... was the one who took care of him until he reached his adopted family (in this case, his brothers Penguin-Shachi-Bepo), and was the one who made sure he lived. Countless people were helped with Law's medical knowledge as he honored his biological parents, but he only lived long enough to do so because of Cora... because both parenting situations were important, even though their relationships were really different.

Do I think that in a canon sense Cora would have tried to adopt Law had he lived long enough? Yeah. Do I think that it would have changed Law's trajectory much, pulling him away from honoring his parents and Flevance and keeping their medical traditions alive? Not at all. It's honestly a given that Law loves and honors his parents, given his chosen profession; what's interesting is that he also honors the one who only had him for six months, because they were just as impactful on him, just in a different way.

I am also sorry about the rant but I have feelings about this.

Poor Law thinks he's hallucinating about his dead father 😭

I already said this over on Blueskye but-

I personally don't really see Cora as a parental figure/dad, if only cuz OP is usually rather overt about those sorts of relationships (Zeff, Bellmere, Whitebeard, etc).

I like them being this weird, nebulous sort of deal that isn't defined by nuclear family roles. Law never refers to him as a father figure or even an older brother. He's just Cora-san.

Law HAD A DAD who was nurturing and loving and patient and taught him a lot of stuff, and Cora is very, VERY different from that, (and also not old enough to be Law's dad either-)

In the end, I just don't like people always needing to put "found family" into hardcut nuclear family roles. Human connection is more complex than that.

He's just Cora-san :y

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Souvenir (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Gender neutral. My dumbass changed the request so they aren’t already together I am sorry but they needed to meet first

EDIT/DISCLAIMER: I hadn’t watched the films in LITERALLY FOREVER i got some parts wrong but for the record the fantastic beasts book does not say what mooncalves eat and i had to go as creative as possible (... grass)

Requested by: NOT anon but i forgot who requested i’m so sorry Maybe Newt introducing his partner to all of his creatures and one of the creates (possibly another bowtruckle but up to you) getting really attached Flying together on Frank the thunderbird (he's a thunderbird right?) Oh fluffy adorable feeding the baby mooncalves (Can you tell I like cute things and all of his animals?)

Word Count: 1593

You first met Newt when you were out on a late night stroll.

People always said it was dangerous to walk outside late at night, but you had magic, and that would at least protect you from no-majs with ill intent. You would never expect to run into a wizard the way you did.

There was, after all, an Erumpent with a man in a bright blue coat making the strangest movements and sounds. It was certainly interesting. Another man stood off to the side, holding a bottle that was unmistakably one that was used for potions. Once the bottle spilled, you ran closer, hoping that you could counter the effects of the potion before it caused any damage. Instead, the Erumpent turned to him and charged. There was a lot of screaming.

You followed them over the hills of Central Park and a frozen river that you absolutely did not trust to hold the weight of a grown man, much less an Erumpent. You threw a quick spell to solidify it completely, and the three of you had managed to get the Erumpent into a very small case.

"Well, it looks like we've made a new friend!" the skinnier man in the blue coat said. "Thanks for helping."

"I really didn't do anything," you replied.

"Nonsense, you froze the river, didn't you? Wonderful spellwork, by the way," he complimented.

You warily looked at the no-maj, currently trying his best to brush off whatever he had spilled on himself. You knew how dangerous it was for them to know about magic.

"Oh, I'm Newt. This is Jacob. We've been gathering all the magical creatures that... are around the city," Newt explained.

"I'm (Y/N)," you said.

You held your hand out in greeting, and he took it with a mild shake. Jacob's was only slightly firmer.

"You know, I'm good with magical creatures. They were my favourites to look for in the forest of the school I went to. If you want, I can help," you offered.

Newt smiled brightly, and motioned back to the city that surrounded you.

"Well, we've finished with this, and we've got more to do. How about we find the rest of them?"

———

Newt opened his case on the floor, nodding to it with a smile.

"Go on. I promise it's safe," he assured you.

You gave him a stern look and climbed down the ladder into a small, wooden workshop.

"Is this an expanding charm?" you called up as he started to make his own way down. "Amazing work. It's rarely ever neat when I expand anything."

"Well, it helps that I've got other magic to keep everything where it is," he grinned. "Shall we?"

He gestured to the door. You pushed it open, your mouth open in shock as you took in the desert-like area around you.

"Newt!" you exclaimed. "Do you know how much work it takes to do this? You either have very powerful magic or a lot of time on your hands."

"Well I wouldn't say I'm very powerful," he humbly responded. "I've had this case for years, and I only started with a few of these areas. Now it's a lot more, but that's not the point."

He gestured to move on, and you followed wordlessly. The disturbance in the background made it clear that it was a piece of cloth rather than the actual background, and he pushed it aside to reveal the Erumpent you had helped him retrieve.

"I found her a while ago, and I'll be returning her home once she's ready. I'd bring you closer but after recent events, I think it would be better not to cause unnecessary damage to all of New York City."

You both laughed. He led you through another curtain to where the Niffler dove into a hole, and the bowtruckles were all on a tree together.

"I'm sure you already know the bowtruckles aren't as friendly as the others in this case, but Pickett likes to hang around me sometimes," Newt said.

He put his hand out for one of the bowtruckles, who climbed onto his hand and scampered up his arm, clinging to his bowtie for a few seconds. Newt had to pull Pickett off and back into his hand, and raised him up between the two of you. You were both met each other's eyes. He looked nervous for a split second, then brought up Pickett between your line of view.

"Say hello, Pickett! This is (Y/N)."

"Hi there," you smiled.

You waved your hand to the little green creature. He jumped from Newt's hand to your shirt, and found his way to the top of your head.

"Pickett! You know you need to ask before you climb someone like that," Newt scolded.

He had his hands on his hips and glared at the bowtruckle sternly. Pickett made a noise that sounded suspiciously like blowing a raspberry and rested himself in your hair.

"I think he likes me," you laughed. "Isn't it rare for bowtruckles to be this friendly?"

"Yes, but I think-"

Newt suddenly cut himself off as a blush grew on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"You think what?" you asked.

"Um, I talk to the creatures about you sometimes? I think he remembered your name."

You hadn't known each other too long, but you figured it was enough to be good friends.

"Oh, that's nice. It's great to meet them," you said.

He gestured for you to follow him. He turned quickly as you walked, probably to hide his red face. By the time you reached a large nest, it was completely gone and replaced with a wide smile.

"This is an Occamy! They are usually very protective of their young, but I've earned her trust just enough. I'll be releasing her and her babies once they're a little more grown," Newt said.

The blue serpent-like creature inspected you as you approached the nest. A peer over the edge gave you a glimpse of a smaller Occamy, playing with its siblings. There were chirps coming from the nest. Newt brought you along to a different environment, one that looked more like a desert.

"And that's Frank," he said.

You both looked up to see a Thunderbird flying on his own in the sky. He began to drop down and land as he spotted you.

"Frank, this is my friend! Be nice," Newt said. "You can hold your hand out to him."

You hesitantly put your hand up, around where the bird's beak would be if he was in front of you. Frank shuffled his wings, then got closer until the feathers just under his eye were tickling your hand. You carefully stroked the feathers there, and he closed his eyes in content.

"I'm in America for a lot of reasons, and all of them are to bring these creatures back home," Newt said. "Tina and Queenie have been nice enough to let me stay with them while I'm still here."

"You're welcome to stay with me as well," you smiled.

You continued onto the next area, a quieter and darker one lit by a full moon on one of the curtains. The creatures were like a strange mix of a sheep and a cow with the largest eyes that didn't look like they would fit in their heads.

"Mooncalves!" you said, taking a few steps closer.

"Wait, come back. I'll have you feed them, since it's already time."

They were still a distance away. Despite their shy nature, they were still intrigued by the new addition to their temporary home. They started to get closer. After a few minutes of preparing the bowls with Newt, two of them had already gotten very close to you. They nudged your legs, knowing that you had something they wanted. When Newt walked with his bowl closer to the rest of the mooncalves, they all flocked to him. You followed behind, and some went to you.

"Throw a bit of this onto the ground right here."

He picked up a handful of what looked like rice grains and threw them across the ground. You did the same until the soil was mostly covered. Newt pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, which caused the soil to cover the little grains and grass to spring up from where they dropped instead. The mooncalves rushed over to the grass and began to graze.

"Grass seeds! It's much more convenient than carrying grass or taking them outside when there's a full moon," Newt explained.

"That's amazing," you complimented, which he bashfully brushed off.

He took your bowl and put it away. A bowtruckle returned to his tree and a niffler nearly grabbing your pen lined with shiny metal later, you both returned to your small room. It was as if you'd entered another world or a dream and were now being pulled back into reality. You stood face to face with Newt, a grin present on his.

"If you're not staying in New York too long, I think maybe you'd need a souvenir before you go," you whispered.

"What's that?"

You took a step closer to him and slowly pressed your lips to his. He brought you closer, a hand on your back to keep the both of you steady. When you pulled away, he kept his hand there.

"That might be one of the best souvenirs I'll ever receive, but I think I can find one better."

"Can you really?"

He laughed breathlessly, and pulled you closer once more.

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[spencers-renaissance]

Fic Rec Bingo!!

So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!

from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3

1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does

I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!

las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid

JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?” “No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”

2. A fic you've reread several times

Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch

Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet. “Papa?”

3. A comfort fic

i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury

When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back. (Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)

4. A cathartic fic

Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory

Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.

5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf

One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut

When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.

6. A fic you associate with a song

I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3

You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo

“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.

7. A fic that inspires you

This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication

In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3

Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky

Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.

9. A fic you wish could be a movie

Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now

i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5

It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.

10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

I'm doing two because fuck you that's why

This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!

Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes

Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...

I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)

You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff

A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

11. A fic you associate with a place

This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3

Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending

Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.

In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.

12. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)

The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid

The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.

13. A fic you found at the right time

You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness. “I… I think I need some help.”

14. A fic that you would read a fic of

Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

15. A fic that made you laugh out loud

The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence

“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down. Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money. “Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”

16. A fic that gave you butterflies

The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')

Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff

Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.

17. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it

A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi

Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears. “Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back. “I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”

18. A favourite AU

The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)

"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her. "Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer." The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."

19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/

The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump

Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.

20. A fic that made you feel seen

heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things

Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.

21. A fic you love without knowing the source material

(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)

the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery

Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.

22. A fic you've gushed about IRL

Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves. Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

23. A fic you still remember many years later

The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff

How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.

24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart

"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling

But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead. Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot. “Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

25. Free Space

And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...

Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy

Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup. Spencer takes the suggestion to heart. Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)

[freydis-freydat]

Freydis loosened a ragged sigh when her tent-mate paid her a compliment, but she regretted it in an instant given it made her feel like her entire rib cage was collapsing in on itself. “Mm, I’m something,” she mumbled back. Irresponsible, ill-chosen, a poor decision maker, a lackluster leader. These were all the ways Freydis viewed herself. Surely others could have performed worse than her, but many could have fared far better. “Or perhaps the suicidal ones,” Freydis suggested, her eyes shut tight in a grimace. She needed to get the chest plate off, it was far too stiff and restricting, though she deluded herself to think any position might bring comfort, let alone relief. 

A moment later she laughed bitterly, a sound chased by a low hissing of curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she lamented quietly under her breath. What a poor impression she was making on this fellow fighter, she almost never cursed. Freydis put it behind her and turned her head to look at the man. “No. While I consider it the greatest honor of my life to fight for all of Taravell, I am not especially inclined to fight for Queen Arethusa.” Why should she be? Freydis had been humiliated at the queen’s party and for little reason aside from to be laughed at like some sideshow freak, like the rest of the Iskarans. She found no honor under the banner of such a leader. “Queen Aurea of the Wildlands, Alphia of the Furonia pack,” she clarified. “A judicious ruler and a better friend.”  Clumsy fingers fumbled at the buckles and fastens at the seam of her armor that ran up her flank as she focused her hazel eyes on Fyren. “And yourself?” 

The honor. She had been a jarl for more than a decade, a controversial figure to be sure but at a certain point celebrated by many as something of a folk hero. She was an odd human, a somehow survivor of the Arches. She was christened shieldmaiden and then veil maiden, fey touched and strange. She was hard to kill, worthy of a dream-crafted sword of valor, and hard to kill. But she found no special honor in the deep well of her life experiences. She was strangely made, sure, but not especially honorable. “My name is Freydis.” It seemed sufficient to leave it at that. With great effort, she managed to slip the breastplate of her armor off of herself. It clattered to the dirt floor at the side of her cot unceremoniously. “Who are you?” 

“It seems to be that way, doesn’t it?” She lacked the vim that seemed to drip from Fyren’s every word. Freydis was a hopeful creature, though not immune to temporary pits of despair, but she wondered what it might be like to remain alight with enthusiasm and good naturedness as he seemed to be. “And what if there are sixty-three come dawn?” Freydis questioned. He seemed to like multiples of three. "We'll have to find another friend."

"A valiant warrior you are indeed, for only those of the highest valor disregard themselves even when each pain is hitched with misery." Fyren paused, the dragon didn't like when there were queens he was unfamiliar with, but he'd not ventured over here enough to be familiar with certain nobilities that would strike him as names he'd recall. "Who is this queen you've dedicated yourself to? Do you not fight for Queen Arethusa?" Not that Fyren fought for the Lysaran queen anyhow, but Fyren was always invested on the chance of hearing another's story and clearly this maiden had plenty she could share as they lay here riddled with bruises and injuries. Mostly, despite the constant and deeply situated ache in his side, it was Fyren's pride which was most wounded, the warrior having been properly tossed around by a horde of orcs before getting the up on them.

"As you should be," he mustered a grin, the dragon swallowing the habitual wince as he did so. "Tell me, who do I have the honor of sitting beside?" Normally, in the past, the pink dragon would be in full force with his own professional greeting. Wings splayed out, scaled chin tipped high, I am the great pink dragon of Dreamers, Solon of Falon'Din, master scryer, one of the Levanathir, he who walks amongst dreams! - and who may you be? But..... such times were over and now the great, pink dragon was simply Fyren, the elvhen mage. Boooorriiiing! What a pitiful fall from grace that no valiant efforts through his time dedicated to the warrior's guild could salve. Still, there was no greater feat then letting out a warrior's beastial cry as he ran into battle; such feats today, however, were certainly through and so, Fyren set his sights on the shieldmaiden beside him.

"Where seven orcs fall, twenty-one appear in their place!" It was an odd number for the dragon to decide upon but the look affixed on their expression was so serious that it was clear he meant the statistic. "Still, I shall best them yet, or dare I say we when the dawn breaks." Tomorrow was a new day, yet each sunrise wrought a horrible fate for Aventia, something they could not win. Besides this, Fyren would continue to fight no matter the cost to his fragile polymorph.

[comfortwriting]

Unbreak My Heart - F.W

Fred Weasley X Reader Part 2 of ‘Call Out My Name’, inspired by the song ‘Unbreak My Heart’ by Toni Braxton.

Part 1 , Part 3

About: Fred realises he has everything wrong. His heart aching for the reader after pushing her aside for someone else, he searches for her to apologise for what he’s done and to admit his true feelings for her.

Theme: Heartache, sadness, moving on, relationships, rumours.

Warnings: mentions of raw emotions, *incredibly light* smut, depression, body image issues and swearing.

Don't leave me in all this pain Don't leave me out in the rain Come back and bring back my smile Come and take these tears away I need your arms to hold me now The nights are so unkind Bring back those nights when I held you beside me

The first thirteen months without Fred were the worst. You couldn’t face visiting Weasleys Wizard Wheezes no matter how many times George asked in his letters which you ignored. You couldn’t go into Diagon Alley without hearing news about The Weasleys - more importantly, the news about Fred and his darling; they were now engaged.

You kept to your bedroom, crying to sleep every night, looking through all the pictures you had taken of and with Fred over the years that you were with him. Letters you had written to him laid scrunched up all over your floor like an author going mad over a sticky, confusing, part of the story - but that was exactly what this was. 

Everywhere you went as you entered Diagon Alley, you were forced to listen to the news over and over again that the shop was a success. You wanted to congratulate George, but after ignoring him for so long you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a pen to reach out to him.

Too afraid to let anyone in after the damage Fred inflicted on you, you didn’t bother meeting anyone new.

Plenty of people offered and even your sister tried to match you up with a friend of hers from work, but you declined and allowed Fred’s damage to take over you.

You only left the house for work which was torture enough as you worked with Percy at the Ministry. You ate one meal a day which was an apple on your lunch break. You didn’t dream of moving out despite your parents encouragement and you simply just collapsed in on yourself whilst your family constantly complained about Fred, swearing that you chose the wrong twin.

Although you hated Fred - or at least convinced yourself that you did - you still thought about him every single day, and at bedtime you would envision yourself back on his sofa in his arms underneath that scratchy patchwork blanket you shared many memories under. 

Laying awake staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath. It had been over a year. You couldn’t go on like this. You needed to claim your life back, one step at a time. Sitting up in your bed, you grabbed the last of your parchment and leaned it against an old book. Dipping your feather quill into your ink pot that rested beside your bed next to the framed picture of you and Fred, you wrote to George.

You began apologising for not replying and for not visiting the shop, explaining why, and asked how everything was going - you missed your friend and it became suffocating to ignore him reaching out.

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many nights Un-break my heart My heart

It had been another five months since you wrote your letter to George and you were still waiting for a reply. You told yourself that perhaps he got too busy with the shop or he just didn’t want to mend things after you ignored him for so long. Either way, you didn’t ponder on it, sprayed yourself with some perfume, and got ready to leave for your third date this week.

George wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. He truly was too busy with not just everything at the shop, but also helping Fred plan out this so-called wedding and engagement party that came out of nowhere. He planned to write back but time got the better of him, he knew you wouldn’t take it personally.

“Oh look at you!” your sister grinned, “Same guy?” she asked enthusiastically. 

“No,” you shook your head and grabbed your coat, putting it on, “I don’t see the same guy twice if the spark isn’t there.”

Your sister smiled to herself and told you to have a good time. You enjoyed yourself temporarily until you remembered Fred Weasley and what he did. He was the reason why you decided against seeing the same person twice. If there was no chemistry during intimacy you moved on. Speed dating was the perfect temporary aid you needed at the moment.  

And just like Fred and his fiancé, word got out about you and how desirable you were. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, you started looking after yourself and forced yourself into the limelight. Even if it didn’t result in finding your true love, you still wanted to have fun along the way.

Your parents went to The Leaky Cauldron, and just as they were leaving, they bumped into Molly and Arthur Weasley. Your parents flinched at first sight, but swallowed the anger they had towards their son Fred.

“Oh Mr and Mrs Y/LN! what a lovely surprise to see you!” Molly chirped up. George turned his head and stood up to greet your parents. Unlike Fred, they loved George.

“And you.” Your father replied, his voice monotone.

“We haven’t seen your daughter for ages. We missed her last summer, please ask her to come and see us. George misses her and it’s our Freddie's engagement party tonight!” Molly babbled on, pointing to George when she mentioned him and Fred.

Molly and Arthur loved you coming over to the burrow. They loved you even more seeing how happy you made their son. In their eyes you brought out the best in him. On the other hand, they weren’t keen on the girl Fred decided to marry, she was inconsiderate, selfish and didn’t know what hard work was - she was handed everything she ever wanted, the exact opposite to you.

Your fathers face flushed with frustration. Didn’t they know why you never came around anymore? Were they not aware that Fred was the reason she screamed and cried every night for over a year?

Your mother hesitated but decided against holding back. She liked the Weasley family, but she couldn’t allow Fred to get away with what he had done. 

“Maybe you should ask your darling boy, Fred. Or maybe George will tell you, he’s the decent one of the two.” 

Your mother said no more and stormed out of the packed pub, your father trailing behind nodding a goodbye to George. Molly and Arthur stood there speechless and looked over at George, demanding that he tells them what happened as soon as they arrive home when everyone has gone to bed.

Fred felt strange throughout the whole party. He didn’t feel happy like he thought he would - he hadn’t been feeling happy for the past five months. Something in his life just didn’t feel right and he couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong -waking up next to his girlfriend made him feel sick and he realised how stupid he was thinking that getting engaged would make everything better.

Molly, Arthur and George sat at the dining table when everyone else was in bed. “George you better tell me what happened, now!” Molly hissed in a low whisper.

George spilled absolutely everything, from beginning to end. As much as he loved his twin, he didn’t shy away from any details even if they showed Fred for exactly who he was, and the awful things he did. Molly and Arthur were outraged at their child's behaviour. Molly had to restrain herself at the table whilst she sobbed into her hands.

Far away, you panted heavily as you came down from your high with your date. Unmounting him, you laid beside him in his bed. He took off his condom and breathlessly offered taking a shower with him. You accepted his offer knowing that you could go home straight after, you wouldn’t need to stress about hurrying in the morning to get to work on time. 

Take back that sad word goodbye Bring back the joy to my life Don't leave me here with these tears Come and kiss this pain away I can't forget the day you left Time is so unkind And life is so cruel without you here beside me

Work at the ministry became more tolerable over the next six months. Percy smiled at you more often and you couldn’t understand why. You didn’t look into it and simply smiled back. You flourished even more within the same time - you had got into a relationship with the one night stand you shared a shower with. The curly haired bookshop assistant grew on you and you didn’t mind, he often made you laugh so hard you burst into tears.

Whilst you were finding yourself, running with the wind, Fred had fallen apart completely. He overheard George spilling his guts, and finally realised why everything felt so wrong, why he wasn’t happy. You were the missing piece. His guilt and mistakes were eating him alive. He broke off the engagement - to his parents delight - and vowed on finding you and making everything right. George felt relieved that he had his own room because Fred’s cries were enough to make anyone feel ill.

Fred slept with the Irish scarf he bought you from the world cup, and he kept the patchwork blanket on his bedroom, refusing to bring it back downstairs.

Memories flashed back to him, the two of you in the tent, “Oh Fred are you sure?” you asked him as he put the scarf around your neck.

He chuckled and kissed your head, “Anything for you, my love!”

Then memories from the sofa flooded in, hurting him even more. 

“I’m so in love with you,” you moaned, cupping his face while he made love to you. 

He shook his head and came to his senses, angry that he put such a lovely girl in the firing line.

“Percy, Y/N works with you doesn’t she? Can you tell her I need to see her.” He later begged.

Percy refused, “That would be an incredibly inappropriate thing to do in the work place!” 

Fred wrote you letters, but you never got them. The family refused to lend him their owl and Fred couldn’t understand muggle post. Getting desperate, he would stay in Diagon Alley trying to see where you were lurking after work, asking strangers if they had seen you, showing them the only picture he had of you.

“It’s going to be perfect here!” Your mum smiled looking around your large half unpacked apartment, “When will he be moving in?” She winked.

You finally saved up enough money to move out and you were planning on asking your boyfriend to move in if things continued to run smoothly. You had got your furniture, all you needed were the items left in the big green box from your bedroom. “I’ll collect them next week.” 

Feeling brave with your partner, arms linked, the two of you visited George’s shop. He had sent you a letter letting you know when Fred wasn’t working and you felt confident that you wouldn’t bump into him.

“I’m so proud of you!” You cheered for George, giving him a hug.

After paying for your bits and bobs you previously saw in the design stages, you walked out of the shop and bumped into someone. Looking up to apologise, you realised it was Fred. He stared at you - both of you mirroring each other looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

You shook yourself out of the immediate shock Fred was still stuck in. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, walking away, your boyfriend asking what his problem was.

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many nights Un-break my heart

Another week went by and Fred was going stir crazy. Customers in his shop who knew you both were whispering about how happy you were now. Him and George argued when he discovered the letter between you two.

Fred rifled through the stacks of letters and found your parents address where you no longer lived. He got on his broom, not caring if muggles saw him, and landed on the roof. He crawled down to your window and gave it a tap with his wand with a soft “Alohomora”.

Expecting to find you asleep, he discovered only disappointment that your room laid bare and empty. The bedside table had nothing but a folded photo lying face down on it, the bin on the floor full of parchment balls.

He unfolded the photo and put a hand over his mouth, seeing you and him moving during your morning walks. He bent down and grabbed a ball from the bin, unravelling the parchment. He cried reading the letters you had written him but never sent. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the green box on your bed and he went through it, more tears spilling down his face.

“I’ll just grab my box!” He heard you yell, walking upstairs. 

Without giving him time to hide, you opened the door, revealing him standing in front of you. You held back a scream of shock and took a deep breath shaking your head, “Fred please - you can’t be here.” 

Fred shook his head and cried, “I’m so sorry, for everything,” he made his way closer to you, “I got everything wrong, her, everything.”

Not wanting your parents to see him, you closed your bedroom door and locked it, your heart pounding. Tears fell from your eyes, the walls you put up against him crashing down, your hate for him melting away and your love for him surging inside.

“Why are you here?” you questioned him through your cries.

Fred walked over to you slowly not wanting to scare you off. This was the closest you had been to him since you bumped into him at the shop. The young man you fell in love with wrapped his arms around you, tangling his hands in your hair. You stayed still with your hands by your side.

“I’m in love with you.” Fred choked out between sobs. He pulled away and gently put your hands in his, your tear filled eyes getting lost in his.

“Fred- I can’t!” you shook your head crying, feeling weak at the words he said and the ones you replied with. 

“Please,” Fred begged getting onto his knees, staring up at you, “please let me make things right.”

Don't leave me in all this pain Don't leave me out in the rain Bring back the nights when I held you beside me

“I think you look stunning,” Fred complimented you, soot spread out all over your nose.

You chuckled and sneaked a kiss on his lips, only to hear a loud thud on the desk in front of you.

“One weeks’ detention for the two of you,” Professor Snape snarled, “and fifty points will be deducted from your house.”

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many, many nights Oh, un-break my

“What do you mean you’re taking her instead of me!” you freaked out, throwing your earrings at the mirror. 

“It’s just a bloody Yule Ball. Y/N. It doesn’t mean anything.” Fred argued.

“Well it does to me!” you argued back, “I’m guessing I was just your back up plan if she said no.” 

Un-break my heart, oh baby Come back and say you love me Un-break my heart, sweet darlin' Without you I just can't go on

Fred held you in his arms, the two of you watching the muggle horror movie in amazement. You nuzzled your head into his neck, planting kisses on it softly. Fred let out a soft shaky moan, his hand making its way up your thigh. “We’ll need to be quiet,” he whispered, pulling your underwear off.

Can't go on (Say that you love me, say that you love me) (Tell me you love me, un-break my) (Say that you love me, say that you love me) (Tell me you love me, un-break my)

You stared at Fred, still trying to process what he said. You pursed your lips and stayed quiet getting lost in your thoughts. Fred noticed you were in shock and lost for words. He pulled out the scarf from his coat pocket and walked over to you, wrapping it around you.

You stared up at him, getting lost in those gorgeous eyes that you missed so much. You looked down at his lips and kissed him impulsively.

He kissed back.

[milasartblog]

“New” teacher

As the bell rang, all students rushed to their classrooms, waiting for their teachers to come into the classroom. Tho today not all teachers were at their workplaces: Maths, Physics and Literature teachers didn’t appear due to the illnesses. Well, for Maths and Physics it’s the case. Usually the responsible for schedule removes lessons for this week, but this was not the case with Literature teacher.

Monika: Wait, they really found someone who will be as a teacher of literature for now?

Pierce: This is what I heard. And it will be a woman. I wonder how she looks like, probably hot~

Elza: Ugh, you only think about it when it’s about new teachers. 

Monika: Says someone who always thinks the same about male ones~ 

Elza: T-That doesn't mean anything!

Monika: Suuuure~

April: I thought such processes take longer than usual. Plus, sometimes other teachers can take others’ lessons temporary.

Elza: I’m pretty sure this so-called “new teacher” just payed money in order to get a job. Don’t you remember? Same thing happened with our native language lessons.

Hugo: Umm, it was actually our teacher of foreign language, who replaced her.

Elza: Still, it’s better than if our lessons were taught by our Craft teacher. Every lesson for him is a reason to go to his cabinet and get drunk. 

Pierce: Hey, at least we got some funny videos to laugh~

Monika: Yeah, indeed~

They gave a high five to each other, to which Elza sighed and came back to her notebook. April made a facepalm, while Hugo just smiled. The classroom was full of gossips about a new teacher, how they would look like and stuff.

Hugo: Do you think our teacher will get well soon?

Elza: I hope so. I don’t want anything bad to happen with him.

Pierce: Still having a crush on him?~

Elza: Are you picking your nose into someone’s business as usual? So what if I do?

Pierce: Well, nothing. I was trying to guess who was standing next to the flowershop before going to school~

Elza clinched her pen tightly in anger, almost tempting to punch his face, until suddenly they heard walking sounds. It was like little knockings, which signaled students that it was a woman, coming towards their classroom.

April: Guys, new teacher is coming! Let’s solve arguments later!

Everyone became silent, preparing their notebooks. But as soon as the door opened, a tall woman with short black and red hair entered the room and everyone’s eyes were wide. Those, who were sitting on the backseats got up a bit to look at a new person. The students’ faces immediately got covered in pink color. The woman was wearing a blouse with slightly uncovered chest, shorts and high heals, which gave an impression of a giant woman. She smirked from the scene students caused as she reclined on the teacher’s table, holding a book on her right hand and spoke.

Luci: Morning, my dear students~ Today i will be running literature lessons instead of Mr. McKelin~ My name is Luci Morningstar~ I’m looking forward to work with you~

Students needed a couple of minutes to come back to reality and nod in agreement. Some boys had nosebleeding, even Hugo. Meanwhile girls were so stunned by how hot Luci looked. From the shock, Elza let the pen go and it fell down on the desk.

Elza: W-w-wait, hold on, is this...r-really our new teacher?

Monika: Wow, I’m...honestly speechless.

Hugo didn’t say anything, processing what he had just witnessed, while Pierce began to nosebleed more as fell down from his desk.

Pierce: I can die in peace now.

April: Pierce!

She quickly helped him to stand up and take a seat. Luci giggled, thinking to herself.

Luci (Lucifer): “The prank is going well for now~ Oh boy, this is is gonna be fun~”

After five minutes of introduction and pulling each other back together, the lesson finally has started. The new material was about a famous novelist, who wrote about love mostly, but the lecture was not something students would pay attention this time. Their minds were busy with only one thought for the rest of the day.

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

And that’s another story for our universe^^ FInally, I managed to write something X’D So sorry for taking it so long, the time and motivation are not in the right mood lately :”) Still hope you will like it^^

Lucifer, Monika, April, Pierce, Hugo and Elza belong to @wildstarfan and @milasartblog (both me)

Okaria et Feria belongs to @wildstarfan and @captainthane

[howlingday]

Hm... Might have to look into this...

The bat bathed in shadows and the angel of death (Temporary name).

So I've had this crazy idea for a few hours now.

The emergence of the idea:

At some point I heard this concept that each person has their own angel of death who is in charge of collecting the soul of the deceased person when their time comes, sometimes when someone faces a situation in which they almost die, they really die for a time or one of those moments where your life passes before your eyes so to speak you can see it.

Most don't remember it and the few who do don't talk about it.

This above plus a vague memory of a chapter of a DP fic where Danny writes a poem about a conversation he had with Death where he tells him that he can't take Danny (although I don't remember if it's because Danny is the ghost king or for being a halfa).

The Idea as such:

From these two ideas I came up with the following. Danny being Cass's angel of death, but although Danny is Cass's angel of death, he will never be able to take her to her rightful place to rest for eternity and if you wonder why, then because destiny and life are They refuse to let certain people die and rest.

Fortunately(?) most of the heroes are some of these people and unfortunately(?) a good number of villains as well.The situation is such that it does not matter what or how, but that person chooses to escape from certain death barely alive or to come back to life a few seconds, a few minutes or a few months and even a few years later.

The method for them to return can be any but in the end they always escape from the hands of their angel of death.

Cass is one of those few people who can remember their grim reaper.

This is where I lose track of how I want to write (haha I can't write it even if my life depends on it) this idea.

Because on the one hand I would love for this to be a Cass x Danny where the only time where they can interact and talk is when Cass is in a near-death situation but they can never truly be together because fate and Cass's own convictions They prevent her from dying or staying dead.

Which brings me to the idea of ​​cass writing letters or poems for her angel(?) to give to her in those rare moments when they meet, but the problem is that cass is too good to regularly deal with those types of situations where she they can find.

And on the other hand there is the idea that they are something like friends and/or Danny is a kind of mentor to Cass since she was young and escaped from the clutches of her father.

Since when I was younger I faced several close calls due to malnutrition and/or illness due to running away most of the time from David's persecution (I think that's his name).

I'm sure there are other routes to take this and even other ships, but with my current skills I can't carry out this idea so I'm sharing it with you so you can add or use it as you wish.

Thanks.

I like the second idea better. Danny being Cass' sorta pen pal. The former just seems like a problematic scenario.

El murciélago bañado por las sombras y el ángel de la muerte (Nombre temporal).

Entonces tengo esta idea loca desde hace unas horas.

El Surgimiento de la idea:

en algún momento escuche este concepto de que cada persona tiene su propio ángel de la muerte el cual se encarga de recoger el alma de la persona fallecida cuando llega su hora, a veces cuando alguien enfrenta una situación en la que casi muere, realmente muere por un tiempo o uno de esos momento donde su vida pasa frente a sus ojos por así decirlo pueden verlo.

la mayoría no lo recuerda y los pocos que si lo hacen no hablan de ello.

esto anterior mas un recuerdo vago de un capitulo de un fic de DP donde danny escribe un poema acerca de una platica que tubo con la muerte donde esta le dice que no puede llevarse a danny (aunque no recuerdo si es porque danny es el rey fantasma o por ser un halfa).

La Idea como tal:

de estas dos ideas se me ocurrió lo siguiente.

Danny siendo el angel de la muerte de cass, pero si bien danny es el angel de la muerte de cass el nunca podra llevarla al lugar que le corresponda para descansar por la eternidad y si te preguntas el porque pues porque el destino y la vida se niegan a dejar morir y descansar a ciertas personas.

Por fortuna(?) la mayoría de los héroes son algunas de estas personas y por desgracia(?) un buen numero de villanos también.

la situación es tal que no importa el que o el como pero esa persona selecciona escapara de apenas con vida de una muerte segura o volverá a la vida unos segundo, unos minutos o algunos meses e incluso algunos años después.

el método para que vuelvan puede ser cualquiera pero al final siempre escapan de las manos de su ángel de la muerte.

cass es una de esas pocas personas que pueden recordar a su ángel de la muerte.

aquí es donde por mi parte pierdo el hilo de como quiero escribir ( jaja no puedo escribirlo aunque mi vida dependa de ello) esta idea.

Porque por un lado me encantaría que esto fuera un cass x danny donde los únicos momento donde ellos pueden interactuar y hablar es cuando cass esta en una situación cercana a la muerte pero nunca podran estar verdaderamente juntos por que el destino y las propias convicciones de cass le impiden morir o permanecer muerta.

lo que me lleva a la idea de que cass escriba cartas o poemas para su ángel(?) para dárselos en esos raros momento en los que se encuentran, pero el problema es que cass es demasiado buena para enfrentar regularmente ese tipo de situaciones donde se puedan encontrar.

y por otro lado esta la idea de que sean algo asi como amigos y/o danny sea una especie de mentor de cass desde que ella era joven y escapo de las garras de su progenitor.

ya que cuando era mas joven enfrento varias llamadas cercanas debido a la desnutrición y/o enfermedades debido andar escapando la mayor parte del tiempo de la persecución de david (creo que así se llama).

estoy seguro que existen otras rutas para llevar esto e incluso otros barcos, pero con mis habilidades actuales no puedo llevar a cabo esta idea asique la comparto con ustedes para que agreguen o la usen a su antojo.

Saludos.

tag some people I follow, in case they like the concept.->

@satoshy12 @zylev-blog @bet-on-me-13 @hdgnj @dcxdpdabbles @wandixx

[millllenniawrites]

delicate (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part six of dear love of mine

words: 1.9k

warnings: mention of hair but specifics aren’t given; reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; afab!reader; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; pining; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: it’s been ages since I updated this series but hello! We’re back! Reader is a mess and I love it! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

__

The late afternoon sun peaked out from behind the clouds and you basked in the light, tilting your face up to catch its rays. This was the reason you’d agreed to promenade all the way to town when you could have taken a carriage. The warmth, the light, the time outside, it was one thing who’s description in books just never measured up, no matter how talented the author.

Ana and Finn strolled ahead of you, close enough that your mother would have scolded them. Her elbow brushed his and their eyes met and you grinned like a fool, almost skipping beside the General. Your hand rested on his (very firm) bicep, which you used to keep a respectable amount of distance between the two of you.

Your dreams hadn’t fooled you. He did run warm. As warm as the sun that beat down on you both. You kept a light grip on him, scared he may be able to feel the way your heart raced through your palm if you held on any tighter.

The General leaned close enough to murmur, “It seems our plan is working well, Miss Dean.”

He was right, though you hated it. In the few days since he’d proposed his scheme, Ana and Finn had seemed to grow closer still. This whole excursion was Finn’s idea, to head into town. It worked out well that your mother had requested an order of fabric and that you could take over this task for your servants, who had been swamped preparing for the season ahead.

It would be Siena’s debut. She was still young, but your mother wanted to give her a chance to enjoy herself without the pressure of marriage on her first season.

You would be attending the parties too, as a chaperone. It would be easier to turn down suitors now that you and Poe had been seen in public together. Though when he began courting others, it might pose a problem.

He was well within his right to do so. It wasn’t as if the two of you were genuinely courting. Even if he was sweet. And had had flowers delivered to your bedroom two mornings this week.

You had tossed them out the window.

As you reached the edge of town, you stepped away from him, pretending that you needed both hands to lift your skirts. Luckily, the shop you had to pick up the delivery from was right along the road.

Finn bowed slightly to Ana before turning back to you. “We will collect your mother’s order.”

“We’ll be here.” Ana batted her eyelashes at him and you resisted the urge to groan.

This would make her happy. This was the entire point of putting up with the General at your side and his very warm, very large hands.

He stepped away from you, following Finn into the shop without so much as a backwards glance.

“So things with the General seem to be going well.” Ana’s elbow found a soft spot in your side and you coughed, which saved you from responding. “I never thought I’d see the day you let a man truly pursue you, sister.”

“This hardly counts as pursuit. And once the parties start, I’m certain he will get swept up with all the beautiful debutants.” One of those girls would do much better for a General, someone that had been instructed since birth on how to take care of a man and a household, rather than in matters of trade and employment and the upkeep of your property as you had.

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? I cannot imagine anyone else catching his eye the way you have.”

“A temporary interest, perhaps. But it is temporary.” And fake, though you couldn’t tell her that. She would most certainly object to any kind of meddling on your part, despite the fact that you had meddled and organized and made-happen most of her life.

The boys were quick. The General and Finn were at your sides moments later, the roll of fabric balanced over Finn’s shoulders. He looked like you imagined a sailor from one of your novels might, swaggering and sweet and able to carry double his weight if he chose to do so.

Those shoulders would be good for lifting children. And for taking care of your sister.

The General did not leave the shop empty-handed either. A small bag poked out of the pocket of his trousers, and he was clutching something tight in his hand.

“Miss Dean,” the General ducked his head, though his eyes didn’t leave yours. He held his hand up between you, opening it to reveal a pale golden ribbon. He smiled, small and almost timid, and something inside you melted. “May I?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure as to what he was asking. He stepped forward and looped the ribbon around your head like a circlet. His fingers brushed your soft skin as he secured it with a knot at the base of your neck. You shivered despite the heat, goosebumps running up your arms as you gazed into his eyes.

“Cold, Miss Dean?” He asked. Though his words were innocent, they were tinged with something darker. Something knowing, as if he could read your thoughts in your eyes.

“Just caught a chill.” You forced a smile, turning to your sister. “Shall we head home?” The stain in your voice was evident, and she hid her grin behind a gloved hand as you turned back for the road home.

As Finn found his place at Ana’s side and the General found his place at yours, you began to seriously regret not taking a carriage. The walk home seemed so much longer, each step like running through molasses.

“Miss Dean, you’re shaking. Once we are out of sight of the town, if it would make you more comfortable, you may wear my coat. I can imagine your mama would not take kindly to you taking ill from a stroll.”

“I am fine,” you hissed, stepping even further away from him.

A carriage barrelled down the road towards town. And towards you.

You were nearly fully in the road, and the General reached for your elbow to guide you back out of the way. “Miss Dean, I must insist—“

“You will insist nothing.” You wrenched your arm out of his grasp, but moved off the road just as a carriage careened past.

The General skirted behind you, putting himself between you and the road and forcing you to walk further away from danger in order to keep your distance from him. “I will insist that you don’t end your own life, Miss Dean. I am courting you. Your death on my watch would tarnish my reputation.”

You would have slapped him if not for the warmth in his voice. He was… joking? Had you reached the point in your strange companionship that you could tease?

When you looked up at him, your elbow bumping into his side, his eyes were soft. There was a vulnerability to him, an openness that stole your breath.

You stuttered to a stop. He continued on, ending up in front of you and completely turned around to face you. “Are you feeling well, Miss Dean?”

“I am,” you breathed, unable to pull your gaze from his face.

“Shall we continue?”

You suddenly shouted, the words ripped from your throat. “A stone!”

Ana and Finn stopped and turned, looking at you curiously.

“A stone in my shoe. There is a stone. In my shoe. On my foot.” You rambled, your face burning.

Poe ducked his head to hide his smile. Only loud enough for you to hear, he said, “But of course. I would not expect an intelligent woman such as yourself to wear shoes on your shoulders.”

Poe knelt before you. He held his hands out and you let your foot peak out from under your skirts. Carefully, without touching your skin, he undid the buckle and eased the shoe of your foot, shaking it out before holding it before you once again. He did not comment that there was no stone, simply smiled up at you. Kneeling before you. A surge of power flowed through you at his physical submission.

You snatched the shoe out of his grasp, shoving your foot back in it and setting off without waiting for him to rise. He scoffed behind you, but you paid him no mind. You stomped past Finn and Ana, the buckle on your shoe clacking with each step.

You could feel Ana’s glare scorching across the backs of your shoulders, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not now. He laid you bare before him with a simple smile, and then returned your power to you, over and over again.

It was beginning to make your head spin.

The General returned to your side in silence, though you could still feel the burning of his smile. You did not exchange another word until the four of you had passed into the house.

The sound of the buckle on your shoe snapping against itself echoed in the large foyer as you stopped, turning to Ana and Finn. Mister Kirk took the fabric from Finn and disappeared, presumably to deliver it to your mama.

After glaring at you, Ana guided Finn into the drawing room with a promise of a game. The doors were left open, as was proper, and her ladies maid stood watch over them.

You did not realize how close the General was standing to you until his whisper tickled your ear. “Would you like to stop this charade? Your sister and Finn seemed to be progressing just fine without us.”

You startled back and shook your head, aggressively enough that the ribbon the General had tied for you fell from your hair and onto the floor. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you were more than certain that your sister and Finn would need your help. You had to see this through.

“Then we shall continue.” He said simply. “You do keep things interesting, Miss Dean.” The General picked the ribbon up from where it had dropped and handed it back to you. “I cannot say that I regret accompanying my companion this summer.”

“I have a feeling, General Dameron, that Finn is the type to not take no for an answer. I am not certain you could have avoided following him in his pursuit of my sister.”

He chuckled again. “Perhaps we will end the summer with each a sister for ourselves.” The darkness in his eyes had returned. His tongue wet his bottom lip and you gasped involuntarily.

“Goodnight, Miss Dean.”

The General was the first to walk away, the edge of the brown bag just peaking out of his pocket.

You clutched the ribbon tight in your hand. You considered throwing it to the ground, or running outside and abandoning it to the creatures of the night, but you couldn’t let it go. Instead, you clutched it to your chest, the fabric soft against your palm, and you watched the doorway he’d disappeared through, waiting for him to return.

[ducavalentinos]

Why do you think that Cesare helped Della Rovere become Pope? It's seems uncharacteristically...stupid? Perhaps illness and grief had made him desperate?

(Also I can't get that scene of Della Rovere hitting on Cesare in Borgia out of my head help lol)

Oh, thank you anon, for giving me the chance to vent my thoughts about the most frustrating event in Borgian history! This is long-ish, and tumblr is being weird(!!!!!!!) with the read-more link, so I'm not sure where/if it will show up below or not. Before answering your question, there is a question to be made first, I think: Why was Della Rovere still breathing in the year of 1503? If we follow the Borgias’ historical literature, the vast majority paints Rodrigo and Cesare, in particular Cesare, as unscrupulous, utterly ruthelss, vindictive men. They were the terror of Italy, and they meticulously eliminated all of their enemies. Yet, most of their enemies and their families, important to add, lived. Including Della Rovere, the most dangerous and bitterest rival of their family. What are we supposed to make of this? It's another one of those common situations in Borgian bios where what it is said is demonstrably at odds with the historical material, and it's something to ponder, I mean, Cesare only found himself in his predicament in 1503 because he and his father failed to strike down Della Rovere during those long eleven years they were in power. Their inability and/or unwillingness to do so was a graver political mistake than Cesare helping Della Rovere win the papacy in the end. And answering your question now, yes, I think the initial impression is that it does seem uncharacteristically stupid for Cesare to support Della Rovere, and help him win. But then again, I don't think Cesare's biographers are very good in showing the complexity of papal Conclaves, and the whole political landscape Cesare was in, and all the possible factors that came into play in his decision. Maybe it's a decision made not to overwhelm or bore the reader, but it usually has only one or two chapters covering both Conclaves, with a lot being left out or ignored, or simplified. The two most popular opinions are that: 1. Cesare had no choice, but to support Della Rovere. Some claim he was no longer in a powerful position, or felt lost without his father's guidance, and/or Della Rovere was the only and strongest candidate for that Conclave from the start, and his election was an impossible thing to avoid. It was already settled, and Cesare had to roll with it the best he could, and try not to make the future Pope even more hostile towards him. 2. He had other choices, namely he had cardinal Rouen, but in the end it didn't worked out, and Della Rovere stood unopposed as a candidate for the papacy, which forced Cesare to support him, and/or he apparently believed Della Rovere's promises, and thought they could reach an understanding. Opinion #1 is the most messy, and it makes zero sense to me today, given there is actual historical info reporting the contrary. The idea that Cesare's power and influence died out or diminished after his father died, or that he was lost without his guidance, are false. Prior to Della Rovere's election as Pope Giulio II, Cesare's power and influence remained strong. He still had large sums of money with his bankers in Genoa and other places of Italy, he continued to be visited daily by cardinals and orators, and indeed it even seems he was thought to be the decisive factor for any papal election. There isn't much criticism to be made either, when looking at his actions right after Rodrigo died, esp. considering at the same time he was dangerously ill himself, and it wasn't something he had prepared for, being it impossible to predict such a thing, he played all of his cards wise and correctly. He was able to secure Piccolomini as Pope, who if not a Borgia partisan, at least was not antagonistic towards him and his family. About the second Conclave, there is a report from Machiavelli in which he says cardinal Pallavicini was the only one being regarded as a possible rival to Della Rovere. And Burchard, whose info seems to have been correct in this instance, writes of a meeting that took place between Della Rovere and Cesare with the Spaniard cardinals at the Vatican, a variant of this info is of Della Rovere meeting Cesare and the Spaniard cardinals at the Castel Sant' Angelo, where they were able to reach an agreement. Opinion #2 makes a little more sense, and it matches a little bit more with the info there is, but it's still messy. Cardinal Pallavicini is almost never mentioned (only Woodward mentions him iirc), and it has to be said that even if Della Rovere succeeded in making himself an unopposed candidate, nevertheless, the Spanish vote could decide an election. So Cesare still had choices, and the reason why he didn't went with those choices, in my view, is not because he believed Della Rovere's promises, it's not the case of Della Rovere winning in the game of deception, I believe both men were aware that agreement was only temporary, and Cesare's decision there was composed by other factors. And between these two opinions, here's what I think is more plausible to have happened: Cesare, knowing his beloved tutor Giovanni Vera was as impossible a choice in that second Conclave as he had been in the first, thought about supporting the French cardinal Rouen. He was far from the ideal choice, but he was a workable choice for him. However, although his influence with the Spaniard cardinals was strong, he must have been aware his influence with them had limitations. The cardinals would never vote for a French candidate, because they were also obliged to King Ferdinand II of Spain, who also had his influence with them, and whose interests they were there in Rome to protect and represent. So much like Vera, Rouen quickly became an impossible choice for him. After this, it's reasonable to think he turned his efforts towards any candidate who stood a chance against Della Rovere, which turned out to be cardinal Pallavicini. Pallavicini is interesting, because like Della Rovere, he was also from the Liguria region (Genoa), but unlike Della Rovere, he maintained a friendly relationship with the Borgia family during Alexander VI's papacy. Rodrigo Borgia was able to secure his support during his own battle to win the papacy in the Conclave of 1492. He also counted on this cardinal's efforts when trying to nominate Cesare for the cardinalate. And he appointed him Bishop of Pamplona, a title previously held by Cesare himself. There is nothing, that I've found anyways, suggesting he and Cesare had direct interactions, but it's possible Cesare cultivated a relationship with him much in the same way he did with cardinal Piccolomini (later Pope Pius III). So by all accounts, Pallavicini was Cesare's best choice then, and it is intriguing there isn't much about this, or why Pallavicini failed to make himself Pope. In theory at least, with Cesare's support, he would have won the papacy. The Italian cardinals were not supporting Della Rovere because they wanted him, many disliked him, some still remembered the papacy of his uncle, but he seemed like a better choice than another Spaniard, or a French, or god forbid a Colonna or an Orsini, but with cardinal Pallavicini, they had a good choice there, and the only reason I can think of as to why they didn't elect him comes down to money and benefices. At some point, Pallavicini, even with Cesare's support, couldn't keep up with the resources Della Rovere made sure of having, and just like Rouen, he fell behind. From this point forward, things get more complicated for Cesare, but Della Rovere's election was still not a concluded reality. A question that follows when reading the info about him meeting with Cesare is: Would he have reached out to Cesare, the son of a man he hated to the core, from a family he despised, if his election was such a sure thing? I think the answer here is no. Della Rovere entering into an agreement with Cesare highly implies, if not proves it, he did not had the necessary votes to win. He needed the Spanish vote, 11 votes to be precise, which were under the influence of Cesare. Without the 11 votes, every single voting would end up nowhere, and a thought I believe was on Della Rovere's mind at the time was that: the longer it took for an election, the more difficult it became for him to stay as strong and unopposed. The support he had could shift in one week or two. New rivals could emerge, unexpected things could happen, because papal Conclaves were mostly unpredictable. It depended a lot on money, influence, the political situation on a daily basis, esp. in Rome, where as it was the norm without a Pope, was a city under total chaos. Della Rovere could only control so much for so long, and I think he knew that very well, hence why he swallowed his hatred, and went to negociate with the son of his archenemy, and get the 11 votes he needed to win as soon as possible.

Another question that follows after reading all this is: Ok, so why didn't Cesare used that for his advantage? better yet, why didn't he use the chaos in Rome, for example, to subtly force the cardinals to stop supporting Della Rovere and find a more favourable candidate for him? Or why didn't he simply stalled the election until a more favourable candidate appeared? These are all things he was in a position of doing, and the reason why he didn't do it, and instead went with helping Della Rovere can be better explained when considering the following factors: 1. You mentioned his grief, and his illness, which might have made him desperate, and while I don't think it was that exactly that made him desperate, I do think it counts as a factor into understanding his state of mind at that moment, and why he made that final decision. Cesare had gone through a rollercoster of events, and dare I say, emotions in less than 3 months. He lost his father, the constant and closest male presence in his life, as far as we know. He didn't had time to grieve him nor make sure he had a decent and respectful burial (it's possible he heard later what was said about his death and burial, and I have no idea how that made him feel) because he was also fighting for his life then. First against illness, then against his enemies in Rome. Not only that, other people and things depended on him. He was the head of the house then, and it fell to him the responsibility, among all that chaos, to keep the women and children of his family safe, as well as to make sure to get all the valuable possessions left in the Vatican and in his palace, before they were sacked completely by servants and others. This was an important step to ensure their survival in the coming months. Gioffre was there to help him, and he did helped, but you know, everyone looked at Cesare for leadership and protection, and he could barely leave his bed, so that surely must have added an extra layer of stress for him. But then, he succeeded in making Piccolomini pope, and it looked like the worst was over, things looked hopeful for him and the Borgia family. And then, suddenly Pius dies, only after 26 days of papacy. Again, if it was truly a natural death, there is no way Cesare could have predicted that, and just like that he was right back where he started. Having to navigate the messy political affairs of a papal conclave and its outcome, of which he and his family’s lives and future depended on. Cesare was resilient. Rodrigo raised his children to be resilient, and to not crumble at the face of adversity, to persist. But I guess we can agree this a lot for a person to process in such a short amount of time. So by the time the second Conclave happened, it would be reasonable to think Cesare might have been feeling overwhelmed, tired, in pain (he had gone through awful treatments), and overall just a bit shaken up mentally and emotionally, although he always tried to look strong and positive —it's interesting to notice it didn't seemed to have been in his nature to be a pessimist, only much later he is recorded as feeling more despondent, and saying Fortuna has left him *gets sad in spanish* — which made him more open to consider options he wouldn't have had under normal circumstances, I think. 2. As said above, Cesare seems to have had this trait in his personality of being resilient, it's one of the reasons why I think he survived for as long as he did (same with Lucrezia, I suppose), he had an instinct to not give up no matter how impossible the situation looked, of not being afraid to face adversities that came his way. He seems to have welcomed challenges, and it was when he felt most encouraged to fight and to thrive. When he was the prisoner of Della Rovere in the Vatican, then pope Giulio II, one of Giulio's men said to him: "signor duca, you have always been spirited." to which he is recorded as having said that: "quando più sono in adversità tanto più mi fortifico di anima. // the more I am in adversity, the more I strengthen my soul." So this is another factor to consider. It's possible he saw the situation with Della Rovere as just another adversity he had to face, and with his tenacity, intelligence, and most importantly, with time, he could overcome it. 3. Another possible factor, but this one is only my personal assessment after reading Alvisi and some of the documents he exposes there, is that both Rodrigo and Cesare display a difficulty in understanding not everyone was as cold-headed and pragmatic as they were. It's evident in their actions, they never had much, if any, trouble putting their personal dislikes aside, and working with their enemies, if it meant they would reach a certain goal they wanted, and/or if it avoided needless conflict or bloodshed. However, not everyone is capable of rising above their feelings, and in this case prejudices, and work like that with people they see as enemies. It was the case of Florence and Venice, for example. Every single conversation the Borgia men had with these two city-States made it painfully clear no agreement would ever happened between them. They would much rather damned themselves and their cities than to genuinely try to work with men they suspected of being marranos and who they saw as being beneath them. It was personal, deeply personal, and to a point just irrational, too. But Rodrigo and Cesare did not seemed to grasp that, like the idea of acting against one's own interest simply out of personal dislike or prejudice didn't register inside their minds, it was just preposterous to them (I agree! dsdjsdjsj). With the right terms, surely an agreement can be reached, no matter how they feel about us, that's what they seem to think, and it's a bit funny, and sad to observe. And if I'm correct here, then Cesare helping Della Rovere might have carried some of this mentality, too. Him thinking: yes, of course, Della Rovere hates me and my family, but not to his own detriment, right? (wrong, just as like in the cases of Venice and Florence, but he later learned that the hard way) and this thinking made him conclude they could work together, despite of any hatred. 4. And finally, the last factor, which I see it as the final nail the coffin, sort-to-speak: His impatience. In the middle of all this papal business, and him fighting for his life, Cesare was also receiving daily news from the Romagna, and after Pope Pius's death, the situation went from bad to worse, his dukedom was being attacked by the men he had ousted from those cities (instead of having had them executed, as it was the norm of his times) with the full support of Venice and Florence in doing so, and only a few cities, like Cesena, were able to withstand these attacks. This is what I think made him desperate. We have to keep in mind Cesare was a man of action. Sitting idle watching his project, one that seems to have been dear to him beyond just mere ambition, wasn't how he did things, and it had to be pure agony for him to be in a position where he couldn't do much. He was still ill, he couldn't organize his men well, he was pretty much trapped at the Castel Sant'Angelo since the one time he tried to leave Rome, the Orsinis almost caught him, and if they caught him, he was a dead man, him and everyone with him. And he didn't had papal authority, only with that would the attack of these cities stop and only with that could he leave Castel Sant'Angelo and finally do something, so he needed a Pope elected as soon as possible, too, even one like Della Rovere. This hurry, this agony, combined with the other factors mentioned above, very likely might have made him overlook some details about his particular situation, misunderstanding Della Rovere’s nature, and underestimating this man’s hatred for him and his family.

Personally, I believe he should have stalled the Conclave for as long as possible, and waited a more favourable papal outcome for him. Sure, it involved other risks. The main one losing all of the Romagna, but here's the thing: the Romagna was basically lost to him anyways. That region belonged to the Church and to papal rule, and Cesare's control over it came from his position as Gonfaloniere of the Church, but imo, that wasn't a position he could have kept. Popes tended to appoint this position to men close to them, family members preferably, because it was an important and influential position, and they needed someone they could trust, and whose interestes would be aligned with them and their papacy. Maybe there is a precedent of a Pope letting the son of the previous Pope in this position, instead of changing it for someone inside their own circle, and nothing bad happened either lol, but no example comes to my mind right now. And in any case, I don't think they were quite in the same situation as Cesare. Cesare's situation was kind of unique, too. He was a beloved and popular ruler, and this little fact, whether he realized it or not, made him even more of a threat to any Pope who wanted to have full control over the Papal States. It created a conflict of power where the Gonfaloniere's influence in the Romagna would have been stronger than that of the Pope himself, which could lead to dangerous situations. With a decent amount of money, the right partisans, and the people's support (who always had anti-papal feelings to being with) Cesare, if he wanted to, could very easily strike up a rebellion against papal authority. No clever Pope, surely not Della Rovere, would have wanted to have that hanging over their heads. That's way too much power for a person to have over them and their papacy. So the Romagna wasn't something possible for him to keep, unless we consider other possbilities, but that's another topic, the point is: at least with a favourable Pope, one like Pius, Cesare could have tried to secure some cities, as well as some fortresses in the lines of the Romagna, Umbria and Tuscany regions. I think that's something he could have achieved with a favourable Pope, creating a new duchy for him and his family, not as Gonfaloniere, but as the Pope's vassal perhaps. But, maybe he didn't considered that, or maybe he had info that didn't came down to us which made this scenario not an option, or info which made him feel confident with his decision with Della Rovere, as usual, this is another theme where there's many things we will never know for sure, but I hope this helped a bit into shedding a light on this confusing, frustrating event in Cesare's life. (And I don't remember that scene, anon??? lol is that the one where Della Rovere is already pope, and he wants to humiliate Cesare further so he brings him naked and in chains to his rooms? and then proceeds to take advantage of the situation, forcing Cesare to kiss him? that one? that's the only scene that comes to my mind, and I have to say I felt pretty disgusted watching it. I guess it's another example of the poor taste of much of Fontana's writing, he really seems to like taking things to an extreme and always enter this sadistic, twisted territory with his characters that really is not my thing. On the other hand, it made me appreciate Mark as an actor even more, because it's not every actor who could have put that scene off, among so many others tbh, without looking utterly ridiculous, and failing to convey any emotions to the viewer. I felt very sad for Cesare there, in Fontana's world, Cesare was a victim of rape in the past, and in that scene with Della Rovere, he was again at a vulnerable position, without any power, and being force to kiss this man who had his life and his future on his hands. It's again, a extreme and sadistic take of the real psychological torture Della Rovere seems to have had enjoyed inflicting on irl!Cesare once he was pope Giulio II.)

[tillthelandslide]

Made to Love

Author's Note: Hello to all of you beautiful and wonderful people. I hope your day is going well. After having a whole day of writer's block, I listened to Made to Love by John Legend and this wonderful idea came into my head so I wrote it down. I hope you liked this and I'm thinking maybe I could do a part 2 if you guys like it?

This is set in a utopian world, not ours just so you know.

Tag List: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira @summersong69 @aestheticallywinchester @stephartrave @al-wiisa @henrycavillfanpage @intenselikes @anat2507 @ellixthea @aguspalazzo @1ookatthestars00 @wintersoldierslut @michelehansel @cavill-sass @thecavillstache  @xelizabethvalentinex @sesamepancakes @tumblenewby @thefangirlsblog @sugermelonwater

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me, if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make   Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to request anything  and I will try my best to make your vision come to life. Edit: requests are still open but there might be a delay as I am working my way through the current ones and all other stories I am writing)  

Growing up you were taught the laws of the world you lived in. You were taught that every person around you had different morals and different beliefs. But one thing everyone agreed on was the existence of soul mates, two people linked by destiny, made for each other, two people bound my fate to be together until death do they part. You were taught that you could tell who your soulmate is purely but the feeling you got. You were told that your soul mates aura would match yours and the closer you were to each other the deeper you would feel, the more intense your feelings would be, as if amplified by the other person. You were also taught that as you grew up you would get visions of your soul mate. You wouldn't see what they looked like or where they lived but would see visions of what they were like, what they did in their spare time. You knew yours was an actor (although how famous you didn't know), you knew he enjoyed video games just as much as you did, he grew up reading fantasy books just like you, you could feel that family was important to him, he had brothers but you weren't sure how many. You could also feel each other's emotions when you were apart, a constant reminder from destiny that you had to find each other to live in peace, to live in paradise with each other. The piece of information that made it difficult in finding him was that he was an actor, he was always travelling and was always filming. This made finding him difficult because you were a singer, a famous one at that, you were constantly on the road, never in the same place for more than a couple of days at a time.

But you were currently on a break from your life on the road, you had told your fans that you were going to take a hiatus and lots of them encouraged you to find your soul mate, because they wanted you to be happy.

One of the fundamental laws of soul mates was the push and pull dynamic, the more someone would push their soulmate away. the more they would find themselves needing that person. There were people who ignored these laws, and lived their lives running from destiny. Soulmates who were yet to find each other were allowed to carry out temporary relationships with non-soul mate individuals, named "betas" but were forbidden to marry them or reproduce with them. Again there were those who hated these laws, those who married non-soulmates to spite destiny.

As for you, you had a few relationships with betas, but they never satisfied that of your deepest desire. It was fun getting to know betas and you found yourself loving them, but not in the way that soulmates would love each other. Eventually the relationship between betas would come to an end when the other found their soulmate. But you were yet to find yours so all of your beta relationships had ended because they had been successful in carrying out the law.

So here you were, alone in your house in London, what was the point of a break if I can't even find my soulmate? you thought. You were beginning to lose hope, maybe you had done something to spite destiny and this was its way of punishing you.

You had begun to feel ill, your mother bringing you some soup in hopes you would feel better. Your mother was one of few individuals, who destiny had granted multiple soul mates, this only happened to people whose original soul mate had passed, destiny would grant them another if they had successfully carried out the law of soul mates in all its glory. And your mother had, she had found her soulmate when she was 21 and had gotten married soon after, having 4 beautiful children (you included) before sadly her soul mate (your father) and passed. Destiny had decided that she carried out the law so well that she deserved another one.

To say it irked you was an understatement, you were happy for her, sure, but there she was having had 2 soul mates and you were yet to find yours.

"He's on he's way dear" she said, as she was leaving your home.

"I don't know ma" you frowned, rubbing your forehead I wish this throbbing in my head would stop for christ sake you thought.

"He is, my love. Now rest and get better, I have to meet Derek for lunch" she said referring to your step farther.

"Have a lovely day ma" you said, making her smile and leave you.

Your head throbbed again, making you have to close your eyes as you felt like you were going to faint.

"What in the world?" you said, your hand coming up to rest against the wall to stop yourself from falling.

Sit down love you heard his voice in your head say. Oh yeah, another side effect of not finding your soulmate was having this kind of connection with them, they could communicate with you, through your mind. It sounds ridiculous but it's true, it takes practice to successfully send a message to your soul mate, apparently it becomes painstakingly easy when you've actually met them.

"You're not helping me" you chuckled out, crashing on your sofa.

You need to rest, your making me feel nauseous his voice said again

"Oh thanks love. Sorry to be such a pain" you said, sarcastically.

Sorry love you heard him chuckle

"It would be a lot easier if you were here dickhead" you laughed, joking with him, your eyes still shut. An image flashed in your mind... A lot of green, that's all you could see for miles.

"What are you doing?" you laughed, talking about the vision you got.

Walking Kal

"all I can see is green, like for miles?" you asked, and you heard him chuckle. He didn't say anything else and you sighed, resting your head against your sofa.

Wish I could help you. He sounded sad and he felt sad too, you could physically feel him frowning, but you knew it felt worse for him, that's how it worked. You were feeling dizzy, which meant he was feeling it a little too.

"Would be so much easier if I knew where you were." you said, your cat jumping up to sit on you.

Y'know how it works love, can't tell you that

He was right, another stupid rule was that if one soulmate attempted to send a message containing information about where they were or where they lived, the information would be corrupted, all the other would hear is muffled speech.

"I'll leave you to it then my love" you said quietly.

Okay love, rest well. Get someone to come round and look after you

"I'll try." you said. You managed to open your eyes, the world spinning a lot less now, the same throbbing in your head like someone was constantly playing a drum in there. You picked up your phone texting your best friend.

"Hey. Not well. Please come save me 😂" you typed, short sentences will have to do you thought.

"coming" was all you received back. Your friend arrived 10 minutes later, as she lived close by. She let herself in calling your name, to which you just groaned.

"Oh c'mon you big baby, it can't be that bad" she said upon seeing you.

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have what feels like someone kicking your head in every 2 seconds" you said, groaning when she tried pulling you up from your seat.

"We're going for a walk, the fresh air will do you good." she said, forcing your shoes on your feet.

"Really? I'm not well" you pouted.

"C'mon you need air" she said, pulling you up and to the door.

You began walking, every few steps you had to stop and shut your eyes, your vision became blurry and your head pounded and pounded with every step. You could see green again, a park?

"Hey it's okay, I've got you I'm here, Cmon sit down" she said, leading you to a bench.

Another vision: a bench?

Another one: two women?

Another one: a dog jumping excitedly

What was that?: An American Akita?

"This isn't working" you groaned loudly, your vision coming back to you, you looked around you, you were in a park, surrounded by green.

"Oh my god" you said, your head pounding, like a drum getting louder. You stood suddenly, your feet hurt but they carried you forward, you didn’t want to be walking but your body had other plans, your legs hurt... Everything hurt.

What's happening? You heard him say

You were falling, falling, your head throbbing more than ever, just as you were about to hit the ground, you felt something soft... Hands? You opened your eyes briefly, two blue eyes, the left had a bit of brown in it

 And then? Nothing.

The next thing you know, you were lying on the pavement, your head no longer hurt... That's good you thought. You opened your eyes, seeing the same blue eyes, your heart felt like it exploded, your back shooting up from the ground on its own accord, turning to look at the man.

"Oh my god" you cried, he was here, you found him.

"Told you to rest, love" he said, somehow making a joke out of it, but he had tears in his eyes too. You wrapped your arms around him, him pulling you to his chest.

"It's okay I've got you love, I've got you" he said, hugging you like he was never going to let go.

"You found me" you said, pulling back to look into his eyes.

"I found you alright" he said, nodding as tears fell from his eyes.

"Henry" you said, suddenly knowing his name as if you'd always known it, you knew everything there was to know about him, and he you.

"Y/N" he uttered, his hand grasping your face tightly in his hand, bringing it closer to his so he could finally kiss you. His lips were perfect against yours, it was everything everyone told you it would be, nothing but heightened emotions, destiny and fate.

"I love you so much" he uttered against your lips.

"I love you too" you replied, pulling back from the kiss.

"How's the head?" he said, his fingers rubbing at your temple.

[mymoodwriting]

3.7k, fluff, angst, manipulation, yandere behavior, jealousy, nightmares, amnesia, childish behavior, possessiveness, mind control, physical assault, illness, asphyxiation, temporary death, confessions, anxiety, trauma, drugs, pills, deceit 

    YangYang snuggled against you, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you close. He nuzzled your neck, an indescribable joy filling him completely. Maybe it was morning, or afternoon, or night, he couldn’t remember, he was just happy to have you in his grasp.

“YangYang.”

“Hm…”

“Get up.”

“Five more minutes.”

“You can have five more minutes, but not with her.”

“Huh?”

    Kun pulled back the blanket, getting you out of YangYang’s arms. Although the boy instinctively held on to you, somewhat glaring at the other.

“YangYang… let go…”

“We’re sleeping.”

“She’s been with you for quite a while now, that’s enough.”

“Says who?”

“We agreed not to let each other spend too much alone time with y/n, so please, let go, before we wake her up.”

“Fine…”

    YangYang pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting go, curling back up in bed. Kun sighed, glad you didn’t wake up. He carried you to his room, setting you down in bed so you could continue sleeping. They all kept the promise of monitoring each other’s time with you, but it seemed they did it out of jealousy rather than concern. Although it wasn’t a problem given that you actually seemed to be doing better. 

“Kun…”

“Sh, go back to sleep, sorry to wake you.”

“Come to bed…”

“I’m okay, I’m gonna make breakfast, you sleep some more.”

“Okay… can you make my favorite…”

“Sure, now go to sleep.”

“Hm…”

    Kun gently pet your head, and gave you a kiss before leaving the room. He was quiet on his way out, also being quiet in the kitchen. One by one the others began to trickle in, setting the table and serving themselves. You were missing though, and so was Ten. Once Kun finished, he went to wake you, and not really surprised to find Ten in his bed curled up with you. He woke them both.

“Sleepy heads, breakfast.”

“It better be…” Ten mumbled. “It smells good.”

“Well get up before the others eat it all.”

    Ten got up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The two boys then sat you up, seeing that you were mostly asleep, but gradually waking up. You smiled at them and got out of bed, still a little groggy when you got to the table. The boys filled your plate, some feeding you as well. It was a good morning, and most days were like that. You seemed to be well, no issues with them, and no issues relating to the dreamland trip. Or at least that’s what they thought.

♥♥♥♥♥

“Hendery… it hurts…”

    One night, you started sobbing, and tossing around in your sleep. Hendery was at your side, and when you called his name he woke up. Your cries of anguish put him on alert. He took you in his arms, but you were just shaking.

“It hurts… Hendery… it hurts… I can’t see… where… help… please…”

“Y/n, it’s just a dream, wake up!”

“Don’t go… don’t leave me…”

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, please wake up.”

    Hendery was shaking you gently, trying harder over time until he managed to wake you. It was clear you were dazed, a few tears on your face.

“Hendery…”

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

    You started sobbing again, burying your face in his shirt. He held you tight, trying to pretend he didn’t know what had just happened. You weren’t going to be okay anytime soon, and he didn’t want to be in trouble.

“Y/n, I need to do something real quick, so just-”

“No! Don’t go! Please…”

“I-”

“Please!”

    You were shaking violently, clearly terrified. Hendery soothed you, assuring you that you weren’t going anywhere. He got a hand free and texted Sicheng, asking him to come to his room immediately. Moments later a groggy Sicheng walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What?”

    You screamed when you noticed Sicheng, not recognizing him in the dark, you hid behind Hendery. That woke Sicheng up and he turned on the lights, staring at Hendery with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“What the hell did you do?!”

“Nothing! Can you just make her forget.”

“Forget what?”

“The dream she just had.”

“What was it about?”

“Look at her, does it matter? Do it fast before the others start waking up.”

“Hendery-”

“If Kun finds out he won’t let us keep things the way they are. He’ll take her.”

“Fine, fine, just stop talking.” Sicheng crawled on the bed. “Y/n…”

    You were still shaking, scared of Sicheng in the moment. He smiled to try and ease your worries but it didn’t seem to do much. He gently took your hand, realizing just how badly you were shaking.

“Sh, easy y/n, take a deep breath for me. You’re okay, no one’s going to hurt you.”

“…”

“You can make the pain go away, just forget the dream okay. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath, and forget it.”

    You had calmed down a bit, and did as you were told. You relaxed, leaning against Hendery, a few more tears falling, but you were better. Sicheng pet your head, softly lulling you back to sleep.

“She should be okay now.”

“Good… please don’t tell Kun…”

“I won’t…”

“… it’s not bad to bury these things, is it?”

“No, she doesn’t remember in the end, so it’s a good thing.”

“Thanks, you should get to bed. I think we’re in the clear.”

“Make sure she’s okay before you knock out.”

“I will.”

♥♥♥♥♥

    For the most part, they’d each get a few hours a day with you. The others were always around to make sure nothing bad happened, but there was always a bit of jealousy in their eyes. Life had gone back to normal for the most part, but there were a few changes here and there.

“Y/n…”

    Xiaojun had gone looking for you, since you retired for a little nap after a long night. He checked all the rooms, and found you in YangYang’s room, but not on the bed. Actually, all the bed sheets and pillows were on the floor piled together like a fort. You seemed pretty comfortable despite the strange resting place.

“Y/n…” Xiaojun knelt down, shaking you. “Wake up.”

“Hm…” You opened your eyes, squinting at Xiaojun. “You’re not YangYang…”

“No, YangYang went out grocery shopping with Ten. What are you doing?”

“Sleeping… what are you doing?”

“Looking for you, do you want to help with dinner?”

“Sure.”

“But why are you on the floor?”

“It’s a pillow fort, for me and YangYang, when he gets back.”

“A pillow fort?”

“Yeah, you wanna lay down with me.”

“I’d love to but we gotta make dinner, come on.”

“Coming.”

    You held your hands out and Xiaojun helped you up to your feet. You followed him to the kitchen and helped with dinner, a few of the others coming by to steal a piece of food now and then. Things really did seem to be normal, or at least they were deluding themselves into thinking that.

♥♥♥♥♥

“You seem stressed.”

    You were out shopping with Kun, the maknae trio somewhere in the toy section. It had been a while since you had been out, so the trip was a nice change, although you noticed that Kun seemed preoccupied. 

“Hm?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Me?”

“No, I’m talking to the wall.”

“What’s it saying?”

You playfully punched him. “Very fun, but seriously. You’ve been worried about something for a while. You can talk to me if you need to.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look like it. You don’t have to talk, but I am worried about you.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Yeah, but more than usual.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“I think I got it from you.”

“Did you? I am pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, you taste like candy.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know, you can find out later.”

“Promise.”

“Yes… if you feel like spilling your guts now.”

“Y/n, I’m okay.” Kun chuckled. “I just have this uneasy feeling.”

“Are you worried about us?”

“I’m always worried about you.”

“But we’re okay.” You assured. “Actually I’m more worried about you guys. You haven’t done any dream walking in a while.”

“We’ve been on a break. It can… get addicting.”

“Oh, is that why you haven’t invited me before.”

“More or less.”

“Well I appreciate you looking out for me. You have to let me return the favor though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, how about I cook tonight. No help, just me and my skills.”

“I’ll ask the guys what they want to order, just in case.”

“Do you not trust my skills!”

“That’s not it… just gotta have a plan B.”

“Fine, but I get to cook right?”

“Sure.”

“Then we need to get groceries.”

“Alright, let’s go find the others first.”

    That was a fun night. Despite saying you wanted to cook yourself, none of them really wanted to leave you alone in the kitchen. Playfully arguments began but you eventually let them help you out. It was a nice dinner, and at night you tucked in with Sicheng. The events had tired you out, so falling asleep was easy. Sicheng stayed up for a while watching dramas on his laptop as you slept next to him.

“Sicheng…”

“Hm?”

“It’s time for your meds…”

“What?”

    Sicheng stared down at you, who was clearly still asleep. He thought he heard wrong, but then you repeated yourself, and he could only think of one response, just to test the theory.

“I don’t want to take my meds.”

“I’m afraid… you have to… it’s important… for your sessions.”

    Even if it had been a long time ago, he knew you were repeating your words from before. He reached over and gently pet your head, seeing you relax.

“Do you feel sorry for me?”

“I don’t… know…”

“I don’t want to take my meds.”

“You have… you have to…”

“You take them for me.”

“Okay…”

“Such a good girl.”

“Hm…”

“The sun will be up in a few hours, you wanna go for a walk together.”

“Hm…”

“Good girl.”

    When the sun started coming over the horizon he woke you up. You were a bit dazed, but capable of dressing yourself. He took a moment to just look at you, a smile on his face.

“Jump.” You did. “Smile. Now kiss me.”

    Your joy always felt genuine in those moments, and he couldn’t deny how much he loved having you to himself like that. He pet your head and kissed your cheek, taking your hand and heading out. They weren’t supposed to be alone with you outside the house, but he didn’t care. He felt like some proper alone time was overdue. As he made his way to the door he suddenly felt your hand slip from his.

“What are you doing?” YangYang accused. “It’s so fucken early.”

“None of your business.”

“And why was y/n with you?”

“I said, none of your business.”

    YangYang noticed you hadn’t said anything, and one look at your face reminded him of that one time. Since Sicheng wasn’t at all concerned, he had clearly changed his opinions in regards to his influence over you.

“Where were you going?”

“Leave us alone.”

“Sicheng, this isn’t fair to her.”

“She’s fine.”

“Si-”

“Y/n.”

    You took YangYang’s hand and then twisted it behind his back. He yelled, nearly falling to his knees.

“What the hell.”

“We’re only going to go out for a while. We’ll be back-”

“Kun!”

“Shut up!” Sicheng covered YangYang’s mouth. “You’re being a brat.”

“Mm!”

“What’s going on…” Kun came in rubbing his eyes. “It’s so early.”

    After a moment Kun noticed the scene in front of him. Sicheng backed down, and had you let go of YangYang too.

“I didn’t expect this from you.”

“Sure you did.”

    Sicheng tried to go back to his room with you, but Kun stopped him, glaring. He knew what he meant, and talked you out of your haze and then left you with them. You were still mostly asleep. By then the others had gotten up too, seeing the last bits of drama.

“Ten, you should take her.”

“I know.”

♥♥♥♥♥

“You’re it!”

    You were running around the dorm, avoiding YangYang in your game of tag. The two of you were absolutely annoying the others, but it was YangYang’s time, so they couldn’t really say anything. When it was the two of you, the dorm was filled with laughter. Sometimes the others would join in, but for the most part YangYang demanded to have your undivided attention. After games you’d most likely wind up in his room just drawing.

“What are you doodling today?” Ten came in with snacks. “Can I join?”

“Yeah!” You showed him your latest drawing. “Check it out.”

“It looks good.”

“I wanted some tips for improvement.”

“Alright then let’s take a look.”

“Mine are better than, Ten.” YangYang mentioned. “I should give you tips.”

“You both can!”

    It was so easy to get lost in the good moments, they’d forget the bad, or completely ignore them. They all had their own secrets, their little moments of indulgence, cheating their way to happiness and stability. Without knowing, without meaning to, they were tearing you apart, and putting you back together over and over again. It was never going to last.

“I’ll help set the table!”

    You volunteered and went over to the kitchen, helping Xiaojun. You were fine, setting the plates down, when you suddenly collapsed. Xiaojun was the first to react, quickly picking you up in his arms. You had suddenly become so ill, and he recognized the symptoms immediately. The others began to crowd around, asking what happened.

“Y/n, come on, open your eyes, you’re just fine.”

“Hm…”

“What happened?” Hendery asked. “Is she sick?”

“Not exactly.” Xiaojun mentioned. “Y/n, we’re okay.”

“Xiaojun…” You groaned. “I don’t… I don’t think…”

“Sh, it’s okay, just stay with me.”

“I…”

    You drifted off with your words, and then stopped breathing. The room erupted into panic. Hendery was already dialing emergency services, but Sicheng stopped him. Ten had pushed Xiaojun away and laid you on the floor, giving you mouth to mouth and then chest compressions. To everyone’s relief you took in a breath, and the panic could subside.

“What the hell just happened!” Sicheng yelled. “She just stopped breathing!”

“It’s Xiaojun’s fault!” YangYang exclaimed. “Tën told us that y/n was dying with you!”

“But we’re not in the frame!” Xiaojun countered. “She’s not dying in real life!”

“She just did!”

“She’s alive!”

“Enough!” Kun screamed. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“What are you talking about?” Hendery questioned. 

“This. We can’t just manage and play around with her anymore.”

“Huh?”

“She doesn’t remember what happened in the frame but we still put her in that mindset.” Ten began. “She has like… six different mindsets she can slip into. And we’re constantly pulling her into one after the other. Of course something like this would happen.”

“We’re doing just fine.” YangYang said. “We just-”

“No.” Kun stated. “She just… died… we can’t keep doing this to her. She’ll break.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Sicheng asked. “The damage is done…”

“And we’re just making it worse…”

“We need a break.” Xiaojun said. “She needs a break… from us…”

“We can’t leave her alone though!” Hendery countered. “Who knows what could happen.”

“And she won’t be. Ten can take her.”

“What?”

“Out of all of us, he hasn’t really messed with her head… she should be safe… and in a better headspace…”

“I-”

“He’s right.” Kun said. “She needs space from us, and we need space from her. Ten, do you think you can look after her yourself?”

“Yeah. With no one pulling her into a different mindset, she should be okay, and stable. But I can’t just look after her forever, she’s gonna get upset. So this is just a temporary solution. What are we actually going to do to fix this?”

“I need to think.” Kun admitted. “She needs to be safe from us, and our influence first. I’ll figure something out.”

“Alright. I’ll pack some of her things, and mine.”

“Don’t tell us where you’re going.”

“Okay.”

    Ten picked you up in his arms, seeing a few tears on your face. The others stayed where they were, guilt eating them up, and some fear still lingered. You woke up in Ten’s bed, seeing him packing his things. The boy called for Sicheng, and then you remembered the little trip you and Ten were taking. After packing your things you said bye to the others, promising to send them pictures and text them about the trip.

“I’ll tell you when I come up with a solution.” Kun told Ten. “So just, keep her safe till then.”

“I will.”

♥♥♥♥♥

     With you and Ten gone, the rest gathered at the table, no one having any appetite. It was quiet, no one knowing what to say, or what needed to be said.

“First off…” Kun began. “I need to know.”

“Know what?” Xiaojun questioned quietly.

“We all should know actually… what we did to her… Ten’s been holding all our secrets this whole time, it’s only fair we share that burden…”

“But Tën…” Sicheng mumbled. “He told us…”

“It was vague… I’ll go first then…” Kun took a breath. “I wanted her to care about me… I made her care about me… and I was a special patient in this asylum… I was dangerous… I was deadly… she had vague information on me… but she showed me she cared… and I wanted to have her completely to myself… I was forcing her to escape with me… she was scared… especially when she saw my power… but she was still trying to do her job… I’m not sure what I would have done if I got out with her…”

    A silence fell in the room. It stung to say all that out loud, but at the same time it was good. It felt like he could be held accountable for what he had done, at least a bit.

“I was being tortured.” Hendery began. “And so was she… they wanted to break me… by breaking her… I don’t know who they… are… and I’m not sure what my end goal was… she wasn’t with me… except for these weird dream states… she’s scared… and doesn’t want me to leave her… I’m supposed to save her… but I haven’t…”

“I don’t know where I was.” Xiaojun admitted. “We were being held somewhere… and she was sick… I’m not really sure why… but she was getting helped… I wanted to be her savior… and I was trying to escape with her… she was very weak… we only had each other… and she desperately needed me…”

“We were in an asylum.” YangYang said. “She was nice to me… so I escaped with her… I took her against her will… and drugged her with… I’m not even sure… but I kept her happy… she needed help for something, but I wanted to be her everything… I kept her in a hideout… and she doesn’t even want to leave… too scared of the world without me…”

    No one was really too happy to share, but in the end all eyes fell on Sicheng. They all had a vague idea of what he had done, and from what they had been told from before, it didn’t sound good. Sicheng looked at all of them, and sighed, guilt already present.

“I was locked up… I was dangerous… and she was scared… but she had a job to do… I needed to take some mind numbing medication… and she would make sure I took it… until one day… I forced her to take them… I was… powerful… and so were the drugs… so they had a much greater effect on her… she was practically brainless… and would obey me… and I was going to escape with her… I’m scared to know what would happen if we did…”

“No wonder her head’s a mess.” Xiaojun commented. “Glad to know we’re all fucked up.”

“And now she is too.” Hendery mumbled. “How are we supposed to fix her?”

“I’m not sure.” Kun admitted. “But she should be okay for the time being. No one is allowed to be near her until we can fix this, got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Understood.”

“Crystal clear.”

“Sure.”

“Good. Let’s just all take a break.”

♥♥♥♥♥

    You found a hotel to stay in. It had a nice view, and you two ordered room service for dinner. The two of you began to make a list of things to do in the morning to make the most of this trip.

“I should text the others, tell them we’re okay.”

“Later. We just got here.” 

“True. It’s still early, we could watch a movie.”

“Good idea, pick one. I’ll get snacks.”

    You settled on the bed and began sifting through the movie options. Ten was in the kitchen, popping some popcorn, and getting some soda. He poured the drinks into glasses, and then glanced over to make sure you were in bed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small case, revealing pills inside. He put a blue one in each glass, and then an orange one, waiting for them to mix with the drink. He put everything on a tray and headed to the bedroom. You immediately grabbed a handful of popcorn, smiling at Ten.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I bet I could finish my soda first.”

“Is that a challenge? It’s a pretty weird one.”

“Not when you consider the cold and carbonation.”

“True… alright, what do I get if I win?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Promise.”

“You’re on.”

    You both grabbed a glass of soda, locking eyes. Ten did a small count down and then you were chugging the soda. When you finished you smiled, realizing Ten had put his glass down, leaving it completely untouched. Before you could question him you felt woozy. You swayed a bit and Ten took the glass from you, laying you down in bed. He watched you drift off, a pleased glint in his eyes. He kissed your lips and grabbed the other glass.

“My turn.”

< {Resolution} // {Consequences} >

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Part 3 (Final)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood and gore, violence, smut, dubious consent, and language

Word Count: 5K

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has the opportunity to finally end her relationship with the eight young men who changed her life. With the police on her side, Y/N is prepared to do anything to help their investigation into the Miroh Coven, especially since they’re tied to several missing person cases. However, returning to the coven is nothing short of condemning because Chan, Jisung, and Changbin are more determined than ever to make Y/N a permanent member.

Tag List: @softxminghao, @darjeli, @seungminshakur, @rubylove-21, @squirracha, @athosthehaunted, @lixiesbreadstick, @tapikachu, @unghchangkyun, @whereitgetsyou, @ashbash9909, @tropicalwrites​, @mikailo666​

I wasn’t able to properly tag these users: peachbess and lovesfaith (sad face)

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me? 

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside. 

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?” 

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.” 

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures. 

Dozens of them. 

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head. 

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs. 

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor. 

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung. 

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant. 

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.