#the burden would have been so much harder on her

[zyafics]

okay okay i got it. someone asked me about my thoughts on rafe and how i would’ve gone with his arc, i think i know a way that would’ve satisfy his character conclusion.

starting from the very beginning, in s1, i would’ve established this rivalry with sarah and rafe. not necessarily hostile or explicit, but it’s just demonstrated throughout little acts. ward wants to raise his children to be upstanding citizens of kildare, it would make sense if he imbedded in their mind to gain his favor. however, rafe always had to work harder than sarah to gain the favor. we don’t know exactly why—it’s because he’s a boy, or because sarah looks like their mom, or perhaps sarah is just his little princess thst can do no wrong—but overall, it was always harder for rafe to earn his father’s validation. he always had to fight for it, to beg for it. and his anger is never channeled productively, so he ventures it out on people who can’t fight back against him (systematically). this being the pogues.

from there on, rafe would be searching for ways to win in ward’s favor. it isn’t until he killed peterkins—in his mind, again, for ward—that it shifts the dynamic. ward may be a horrible father, but at the end of the day, he’s a father and he’ll do anything to protect his children. this is proven especially in s2 when rose asked ward to give up rafe and he refused. however, the extent he would go to protect his children, ward issues that burden onto rafe. like in the show, sarah would follow the pogues and john b, while leaving rafe behind. i feel like this would ease him into a descend of madness, especially because he’s facing abandonment from his sister—his rival. of course, he likes it at first—he gets all of his father’s attention and concern, but slowly, he slowly hates it because sarah will continue to haunt their lives despite having left it. this would’ve driven him mad. this would’ve explained a lot why he was willing to take sarah out. the resentment, the anger, the frustration that as long as she’s alive, she’ll continue to be a problem for rafe, a reminder for ward, rafe takes the ruthless step to try to kill her. and he almost succeed. but he somehow he didn’t. got snapped out of. someone saved sarah, idk. overall, the ending of s2’s rafe would’ve been satisfied when he tried to drown sarah.

in s3, i think this is when the hesitation sets in. where rafe is trying to step out of his own, remember his own guilt and regret. he’s away from all of that treasure hunting business, he can actually sit and think to himself and he hates it. in s2 he was constantly running, constantly doing, that he didn’t need to think. now, as time slows, he has to reconcile with who he becomes. who he is. and as much as he hates sarah—or so he believed himself to hates sarah, groomed by ward’s parenting—he can’t live with the idea that he almost kills her. however, i would make rafe and the pogues to have an conflict again. settling on rafe’s want over the pogues’ needs. maybe it’s one last chance to prove to his father—to actually make something of himself without his father’s help and handout. and this is when he collides with his sister. the anger. the frustration. all those buried emotions comes back tenfold. especially now that sarah is actively against him. rather than rivaling him—it’s his complete opposite. i can see the pogues “winning” this season, but this leads rafe to have the open shot of killing sarah. to eliminate her once and for all. but he doesn’t. the gun was raised but was lowered. he hesitated. and he comes to terms with the fact that he would’ve be willing to be the brother who killed his sister—twice—for what? this is when he has to set himself on a path of true self-discovery. to truly figure it out.

s4 would’ve followed him figuring it out. to actually step out of ward’s shadows. unfortunately, i don’t think he could’ve done that while ward is still alive, so i would also kill him off. it’s necessary for rafe’s growth. i think, shifting this, rafe actually has the opportunity to be who he always dreamed to be—his father. to become the embodiment of his father, to chase the validation by becoming him. and he struggles with it. because he doesn’t know if he shares his fathers’ exact views. he doesn’t know who he is at the end of the day. lots of soul-searching. lots of making mistakes and wrong turns he believed would’ve made ward proud but made him empty. then sitting at tannyhill alone, with no living parent, with no remaining family (ok wheezie is gone for this entire thing ok), i could see rafe actually realizing that he can’t function without sarah. in a way. and when she turns up to him, or somehow they collide, and needs help. he has the option to turn her away or save her. and for once, he chooses to save her. and help her. and they start to slowly build up to rekindling their broken relationship from there.

i don’t know exactly how s5 would go, but i know rafe’s arc would be settled by this: rafe’s entire life had been a prop to be rivaled against sarah’s. to be against sarah. to fight sarah for approval. and all of that should’ve manifest into resentment. into anger. into jealousy and envy and death. but it isn’t. because ward no longer has control on who rafe is. and rafe makes the final decision, the only decision of his own, to see sarah as his companion. to work with sarah rather than against her. to protect her. to actually take care of her. all of these ideologies and conditioning ward administered onto rafe, slowly unravels by his own hands, his own choosing, when he makes—and continues to make—the active choice of protecting his sister than hurting her.

okay, i’m done. it’s 2am goodnight 🙂‍↕️

[thatscarletflycatcher]

It has probably been said before, but in It's a Wonderful Life, part of George's regret is a sense of guilt about what Mary could have had had she not married him; that she is in it because she loves him so much, and so she endures the life they have. And yet when we get to the reality where George never existed, Mary is a librarian. There's this contrast between the casinos and the cabarets and such (all exploitative and fraudulent ways of preying on desperate poor people) that populate Pottersville, and Mary, in this timeline, choosing the one job that remains a community oriented, free, helpful service. She married George because she loved him, yes, but also because his convictions about doing good for his community were also hers all along, and would have been even if he had not existed. She doesn't endure the life they have out of sheer abnegation, but embraces it out of conviction.

[annamaryllis]

I would like to know exactly how luke asking annabeth to run away with him went down.

[heyitsphoenixx]

.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

AN: No one asked for this but CURLY DESERVED BETTER-!

Sum: You were taking care of Curly, your partner, when you just had to ask him a question that was burning you as much alive as the cockpit burned him. Did he actually crash the ship?

Warnings: 18+, gore, medical situations, Jimmy, violence, just mouthwashing in general, ablism, lots of medical stuff (from someone that knows way to much about medical shit because of being in and out of the hospital all her life)

“Morning honey.” You would force yourself to smile. You had to. You had to for him. To give him hope like he always gave you. To be a little bit of real sunshine through the day. Just wanted to take care of him. Give Anya some kind of break.

A wheeze was your greeting.

Wasn’t like it was his fault. He couldn’t really speak right now. You wondered if he would ever speak again. You would miss his voice but it’s worth it for him to live. He will live, you knew he would. You would make sure of it.

“Let’s have a look at you.” You would grab the clipboard that Anya left for you and took a look over. The small little list to help you understand how to care for his issues. When to wash him, what time his medications were, whatever routine was needed for that day. Was your Bible so to speak. You followed it to the last ink splotch.

“Your bandages don’t look to need to be changed yet, your IV bag needs to be changed, I’ll check your catheter, and yada yada yada. Wanna try and swallow today? Maybe if you can swallow some water I can grind up the pain pills into powder for you. Wanna try?”

He gave two distinct blinks for yes.

“Wonderful. Let me do this routine, so you can mentally prepare.” You would explain, as you went to slip on the latex gloves. Didn’t want to risk transferring some kind of infection. He’s already fighting for his life as it is. No need to make it harder.

You would first change out his IV bag, since he needed to stay as hydrated and fed nutrients as possible, before working on the awkward catheter. Luckily Anya made it very easy to use. She had opted for a condom catheter since she didn’t want to put himself at anymore risk to infections, and pain, as possible. Seemed the trauma made it rather impossible to control his bowls anyway so it worked out. All you had to do was drain the bag, wash it, and reattach it to the side of the table. Wasn’t like he was going to be moving around much anyway.

“So Daisuke was showing me his gameboy. Teaching me about how the lore works and all that. I really had no idea what he was talking about, but it’s better than Swansea snoring.” You laughed, and did your best to keep yourself peppy. To help Curly feel somewhat involved with society. To not just be trapped in the med bay alone. Daisuke and Swansea would visit, and Anya did what she could medically, but sometimes you just need someone to talk to.

“Think it’s a rouge like game. That’s nice. Helps keep you entertained with wanting to break through more and more dungeons in one session.” You rambled, before reattaching the bag. Had you sigh in relief to see you didn’t mess up the chord. Some urine had already started to fill the bag. Must have been triggered by the new IV. Good good. Everything was correct.

“You ready?” You asked, as this was always the hardest part. Getting medication in him. Anya would do her best but you couldn’t blame her for struggling. It’s such a mental tax to try and take care of someone but it results in more pain. You were willing to take that burden. You were his partner after all. You felt it’s only fair you take care of him. Gave Anya some breathing room to actually care for herself. She deserved to take care of herself to.

With two clear blinks you would get to work.

You would slip your hand under his back, and forced him to sit up. He groaned in pain, and tried his best to keep his head upright, as you two tried to work together. To survive this. To try and fight through.

“You are doing so well.” You reassured, as your brought the water bottle up to his open mouth. He was able to let his head hang back, and did what he could to open his throat. Was awkward, but he managed to do it. He took a proper swallow of water. You could hardly hide your excitement.

“You did it! Oh my god you did it!” You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. It hurt, of course, but he very much felt it was worth it. He had his own pride in being able to do some kind of basic human function again.

You would lay him back down, and was quick to grind up medication to put in the water bottle. You couldn’t wait to tell Anya his progress. You were positive the rest of the crew would be happy to hear the progress.

Well…..Most of the crew.

You used your anger towards Jimmy to help you grind the pain killers into powder. Oh how you hated him. You knew deep down he was responsible for the crash. You knew he was. You weren’t sure why he would be, but you just knew that Curly would never. If he had to, for whatever reason, he would have come on to the intercom to inform everyone to prepare for a crash. He would have done something. Anything.

What purpose would there be in crashing the ship?

Jimmy was his copilot. He would be the only other person to have access to the cockpit. He had to have been involved somehow. There had to have been something going on. You just knew it.

You just wish you had proof.

You sighed, as you would shake up the powder in the bottle. Made sure it was fully dissolved to avoid any issues with it going down his throat.

You just couldn’t understand.

Why would Jimmy crash the ship?

You would return back to curly, and do the same routine again. Slow, and small, drips into his throat. Would take a while, and would make your arm beg for death, but this would make life easier for Curly. That’s all that mattered. A arm cramp is worth it to help Curly survive.

“Curly…..Since you are more lucid now I….I just gotta ask something.”

The way his eye darted towards you said he knew what you were going to ask. Knew that it’ll be asked. He knew, and he couldn’t help but try and look towards the door. As if afraid someone would walk in.

That had you very concerned.

“…..Jimmy crashed the ship, didn’t he?” You whispered. Tried to be as hush as possible, in case someone did overhear. Was just the slow drips of the water into his dry mouth, and you.

One blink.

Two blinks.

“I fucking knew it.” You gritted your teeth, as you felt stupid to ever even have the slightest doubt that any possible reality there would be that Curly would do such a thing.

“I wish I could ask you why. Do…Do you know why?” You had to ask. You just needed to know. Know if Jimmy was as dangerous as you thought.

One blink.

T-

“How’s the captain doing?”

You would turn your head sharply, and saw Jimmy. Just standing there. God you were terrified how long he had been there. Did he hear what you asked? Didn’t seem so. Jimmy was a very aggressive person. He snapped at the slightest tone shift. If he heard you ask a question like that you wouldn’t be talking now.

“He’s….Alive.” You were caught rather off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You were scared of him. You had to be brave, though. You had a better chance at defending yourself. Curly couldn’t.

You would hear his heavy foot steps come closer, and out right feel his body heat against yours. Just looking over your shoulder. Was like this burning shadow over you. Made you feel like you’ll be squashed like a bug.

“Has he been able to talk yet?”

That’s a weird question to ask. Why not ask how he’s feeling, what progress he’s made, how his vitals are. Why is him talking on the front of his mind?

Because Curly knew something he shouldn’t.

“No. I think he’s lost his voice for good. I don’t think he’s ever going to speak again.” You lied, as you finished the test of the bottle. Returned your partner back on the table, and spun around. Nose to chest to the man. Had you terrified, but you must be brave. For Curly.

“Damn. Rough for him. No more barking orders, huh?” Jimmy tried to joke, but you could only give an awkward laugh at. Mostly to keep from pissing him off.

If he’s willing to crash a ship what else is he willing to do?

“Did you need something?” You managed to force out, as you grabbed the clipboard. Just trying to find an excuse to not look directly at Jimmy. To have a motive as to why you would stay in the med bay longer than most. Just anything to get Jimmy to leave you two alone.

“Hey, I give a shit to about him. Is it criminal to care about my friend?” He snapped at you, and it made you grab your clipboard tighter. You swore he seemed to smirk at seeing you so startled. Like he got off to the idea that he got the captains sweetheart scared.

That he’s the new boss.

“Never said that. You are the co pilot and new captain. You-“ “Pilot now. As if he’s ever going to steer a ship again. Not even a wheelchair with those stumps.” He snorted, as you wanted to smack him across the face.

“Yes….As the new Pilot and Captain I would figure you would be swamped in work. Like finding a way for us to contact help. Kinda the biggest priority after Curly. Anya and I are busy with him. You, Daisuke, and Swansea can handle the rest.”

You noticed how he seemed to roll his eyes about Anya. As if he couldn’t care less about the woman. Made you curious on what kind of beef he would have with her. She’s Anya! Who hated her?

“Yeah. Guess you are right there.” He muttered, as if it was never on his mind. Never an option that they could escape. Oh how you were getting chills.

“Keep on trucken then. Take care of our Captain Cripple. His ass needs all the help his stumpy limbs can get.” He would give him a once over, before looking at you. You made sure to keep your eyes to the clipboard instead. All you did was nod in acknowledgment, before he left.

“What are we going to do, Curly?” You sighed, as you would just lay next to him in defeat. What can you do? You had no idea. Curly was always such a good captain. Made you regret never paying more attention to how he worked the cock pit. Maybe if you did you could be more useful.

As you were full of worry and regret, Curly would weakly try and turn his head. Naked teeth were against his cheek. A attempt to kiss your cheek the best he could.

You smiled at the gesture, and made sure to be careful with snuggling your face into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, and you got me. We can do this. I know it.” You reassured you both, as you closed your eyes. There to wait until his pain medication kicked in, so he could sleep.

As you relaxed, you couldn’t help but swear something was strange about his breathing.

It was like….He was saying words.

You would focus as hard as you could on your ears, as he would drift in and out of his buzzed state. Fighting to stay awake, but sleep coming for him.

“A….a…n…ya…..Kn….ows……”

[riot-ghost]

Started a new train of thought following ghosts and things, and so here's my head cannon that the people of the Infinite Realms have a religious following and how one Daniel Fenton accidentally became the human priest.

-

"What the fuck do you mean I'm a priest?" Danny stared blankly at the Clockwork.

"I mean that you've become the priest of the Infinite Realms." Clockwork says. "By teaching your friends your following, they've decided to convert and follow with you. They believed what you're following is good and right, so there's human followers to our rituals and beliefs."

"I thought they were just respectful and curious! I don't know how to be a priest? Is there a way to revoke it?"

"Not really." Clockwork shrugs. "It seems fitting. Her Infinite lost her king with you, of course she'd name you her priest. I recommend opening a sanctuary,con holy ground. Gotham would fit."

"Holy shit, no, Clockwork, I'm not going to be a priest! I dont-"

"Damnit." Danny stood in front of the new building he'd just purchased.

It's easy to get it set up for outside use, but following the ways of Infinite, making it sacred ground, that was much harder. He spends weeks purifying the pollution and smog, and even longer doing the required rituals and cleansings.

He doesn't hold masses. He holds classes, every day at seven, to teach about the ghosts and Ancients. He cooks dinner for everyone who comes, and everyone is welcome. He's even told everyone they're welcome to just come and take the food and leave.

Gothamites come to find that if the city has been gassed, the sanctuary has clean air. It remains unharmed by the villains, all the way until one murderous clown declares religious exemption while getting arrested.

It's a very public ordeal and Danny hosts a press conference, three police officers and Batman are present. Joker is in cuffs. "I tell anyone that everyone is welcome to our religion. And if the Joker wishes to be, he will be. Is this what you want?" Danny asks, staring down the murderous clown.

"Oh, yes!" The Clown grins back. Danny pulls a gun, pressing it to the side of his head. Everyone is on edge, and Batman's reaching for his belt.

"For the two thousand, eight-hundred and ninty-three lives you have taken, for the nine-hundred and seventy-four children you have brutally killed. The Infinite Realm does not take kindly to murderers, to terrorist." Danny speaks, unwavering. "For your crimes against the Infinite Realms, for your crimes against humanity, and for all those burdened fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, for everyone you have taken, for those you have left behind, you shall face judgement upon the high council of the Infinite Realms upon open court. While there, you shall follow every law, to the letter of the law, or you shall face immediate denial to a trial. You will not be given a lawyer. You will not be given a clean death." Danny lowers his gun, pulling out a knife. He kneels, and rips the air behind the Joker a illuminated green portal is torn.

"From personal experience, there's things much worse than death that you can face. From personal opinion, I hope you face every fucking one before you're torn apart." Danny pushes Joker through the portal, and it closes. He mutters a prayer, standing tall. He retakes his position at the podium.

"For anyone who has faced the Joker, who have had people taken from them, had their own lives taken from them, who have so much as passed him on the street, come to the Realms' Sanctuary on North Blvd. 7308. Join the trial to have him purged, have him face the righteous punishment for the horrendous crimes he has commit." Danny bows.

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.8

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, fingering, rose toy, multiple orgasms, confrontation, ynhee's mum (she's a warning all in herself), anything else lmk! ch. 8 synopsis: the weekend of nationals is finally here and there's a buzz in the air but of course, nothing can run as smoothly as you plan. sunghoon lets you in on minhee and his private conversation, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place. wc: 13.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! i cannot believe melting point ends NEXT WEEK like wdym :( this chapter really explains everything you need to know about the story and everything w the mum so this is an important one <3 thank you all so much for the love. as always i really value your feedback/comments/likes/reblogs. nothing makes me happier than reading your theories and comments, thank you so much! pls enjoy.

Heaving your case, you start to wonder if you packed too much for the weekend. It’s not like you meant to cram in 6 different outfits, 3 pairs of shoes, and every piece of makeup you own - you just wanted to be extra prepared; that and you’re indecisive.

It’s finally Nationals weekend which means everything the boys have been working so hard for is here, only 2 days away. Technically, they should have been in Seoul already but you had a prelim exam today so they both waited for you to be finished before heading out.

The decision wasn’t your favourite, considering they’re missing parts of the press conferences and extra training but they assured you it was the easiest scapegoat out of travelling with the coaches and answering the usual ‘ideal type’ and ‘boyfriend’ questions that get thrown at them.

Considering they were top athletes, you would think the reporters would have more intelligent questions. Sunghoon had told you the last press event he did, the reporters just decided to try and ask him questions he knew would make him look arrogant and cocky with both women and on the ice.

It irks you how everyone has this preconceived perception about the man you love who would bend over backwards to make people happy. He says it doesn’t bother him and therefore it shouldn’t burden you but that's your man and he’s being slandered over news websites, it’s only right you get a little annoyed.

You can hear Sunghoon now as you think about it, telling you “at least I can back up my massive ego with a first place”, and he’s right, but it still doesn’t make you any more okay with it.

Presently, you’re walking down your campus path to the main road, on the way to meet both Minhee and Sunghoon. Somehow, you’ve managed to convince them to drive to the competition together. It took Minhee more convincing than Sunghoon, his biggest objection being you and your boyfriend all over one another.

There’s a mastermind plan to your reasoning; you want them to get along and forcing them in a close proximity for more than 3 hours seems like the best way to do it. Well, you’ve convinced yourself it’s the best way. Plus, you can try and pry out of them what they were talking about the other day in the coach’s office.

Looking ahead, you see Sunghoon and Minhee talking, or rather bickering about something. 

This might be harder than you thought.

“You are NOT driving my baby, she doesn’t need your hands all over her,” you hear Sunghoon say, arms crossed in defence.

“Come on, man! It’s a 3-hour drive and you look tired. I’ll take the wheel and you go for a sleep in the back,” Minhee retorts, pleased with himself for his reasoning; yet, Sunghoon doesn’t budge, adamant that your brother will never get the driver’s seat. 

It’s oddly refreshing to see them argue about something so trivial and not try to tear each other’s character down. They’re nipping at one another like friends do. You and Rina have had your fair share of minisode arguments about throwaway things like this so seeing them do the same makes you smile.

However, you will stop it, just in case Sunghoon gets too riled up - you know how he can get when it comes to his car. You spilled the tiniest bit of your blueberry juice on the seat and he nearly crashed into the traffic light. He’s very dramatic and overly protective.

“Mini, if you drive, I’ll just make out with Hoon in the back the whole drive there,” you laugh.

Your boys turn around at the sudden sound of your voice, both wearing different expressions. Sunghoon’s face upturns into brightness as he sees you, his arms come undone, and his body visibly relaxes. He looks as handsome as ever with his hair styled and smart-casual outfit; grey-collared sweater with black pressed trousers.

Minhee on the other hand is disgusted at the thought of you climbing all over your boyfriend for hours on end. He’s wearing some jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket, it’s his typical choice but he suits it.

Taking your luggage, Sunghoon whispers a ‘hey’ into your lips as he kisses you tenderly. The display of affection only makes Minhee fake gag, “Suddenly, I don’t want to drive anymore,” your brother scoffs, yielding his earlier argument in trade for some peace from the love parade.

You let out a light laugh, moving from Sunghoon to hug Minhee, “You’ve made the right choice,” the airiness in your voice matches the contentment you feel as he hugs you, ruffling your hair in the process. 

While Sunghoon puts your case in the boot, grunting about how heavy it is, you take the opportunity to warn Minhee, “Please be nice to him, okay? I want you both to get along.” It’s a simple request but the seriousness in your eyes conveys everything Minhee has to know.

"I'll tolerate him," he pinches your cheek and offers you an understanding smile when he notices your harsh expression, "Okay, I promise I'll be on my best behaviour." He enters the car with hands raised in faux defence.

You knew he'd behave even before you warned him, but you had to do it since the temptation to fall back into habit might be too strong for both of them. That is why Minhee isn't the only one whom you are warning.

As you walk up to Sunghoon, he closes the trunk with a soft thud, "Can you try getting along with Mini today? It'd mean a lot to me if you guys could at least give friendship a shot," you gently suggest.

"I'll do my best to make us leave here best buddies," Sunghoon replies with fake enthusiasm, "But baby, I gotta tell you, the drive here wasn't great. Did you know he sticks his foot up on the seat? Made things pretty uncomfortable for my girl," he says, giving the car's rear a pat, still bothered by Minhee's lack of respect for the second most important girl in his life.

Your brother wasn’t always the best at reading a situation and considering it’s the first time he was in Sunghoon’s car, he should have been a little more gracious. But he’s Minhee, that’s just how he is.

“Did you tell him not to do it?” you ask, looking through the back window to see the back of your brother’s head.

“Obviously, he just ignored me,” Sunghoon feigns a pain in his heart, “It was tragic.”

His dramatic act earns him an eye roll and no reaction, “I will tell him if he does it.”

With the promises sealed up with one more kiss, you both clamber into your respective seats, ready for the long journey ahead.

The roads are busier than normal, a traffic jam on the motorway is going to add an extra 25 minutes to your time. You don’t mind it, given you're not the one driving, but Sunghoon is getting impatient, the fingers on his left hand tapping on the wheel while his right hand subconsciously grips your thigh, using you like his personal stress ball.

Minhee couldn’t be more relaxed, his body has somehow managed to lounge himself over the back seat, phone in his hand as he plays house flipper. 

“We should put on the radio or something, might make this go in faster,” you suggest, already reaching for the screen. None of them complain, too busy in their own worlds to notice. This car drive was supposed to bond them and so far the only conversation they have had was to text the coaches and let them know they would be late; hardly riveting.

The speakers quietly play the sound of Sza’s Kill Bill which has both of them bobbing their heads. Even just the addition of music has made the car feel less awkward. 

You don’t want to force them to be friends but you also want to say you tried to meld them together in some capacity. These two men are the most precious people in your life and if they don’t get along, your plan to hang out together will be foiled. Even worse, your secret scheme to have Sunghoon over for Christmas dinner would also be ruined. Christmas is already tense enough never mind adding in two people who can’t even speak to one another.

The next song that plays makes Minhee sit up sharply and you whip your head around to look at him.

Maybe it's the way she walked

Singing the song at each other, you and your brother showcase your sibling brain cells by belting out your joined karaoke song. It was unintentional and you don’t remember specifically how it happened, but one day One Direction’s Best Song Ever became the song you would sing together at every function, both of you staying up late to learn the dance and all the dialogue lines. Minhee swore blindly that he would make a better Liam/Leroy than you but you proved him wrong pretty quickly. 

The abrupt change in atmosphere jolts Sunghoon to look at you both wildly while you both sing loudly. He does note how Minhee can actually sing and you, well, you’ve got spirit. The smile on his face gradually gets bigger, the happiness between the siblings infecting him. 

And we danced all night to the best song ever

We knew every line, now I can't remember

He hasn’t seen you get this excited in a while, the pressure of keeping too many secrets from too many people had a weighted effect on you, yet, now that’s gone, you look as light as a feather, enjoying your life free of guilt and shame, a life where you have Minhee by your side and him on the other.

If it’s the last thing he does, he will make sure to become friends with Minhee by the end of the weekend. 

The makeshift choreo you and Minhee created for the verses comes back easily, both your arms flapping around the place, hairography and all the rest of it. The laughter filtering through Minhee’s singing makes you feel like you’re finally home.

Minhee extends a metaphorical microphone to Sunghoon, attempting to draw him into your shared joy. It's not a conscious effort, but rather a natural inclination to include him in this moment, making him feel like a part of the Kang family, even if just for a song. There was also a tiny bit of him hoping Sunghoon had the worst voice out of the three of you, giving him something to slag him about.

“Nope, sorry, I don’t sing,” Sunghoon protests, moving his focus to the ever-so-slowly moving traffic.

“Come on, Hoonie, you know the words! You already told me you were a Louis girl,” you chuckle, also holding out your pretend microphone to join Minhee.

With the Kang siblings eagerly awaiting his participation, Sunghoon relents, quietly joining in the singing. His voice isn’t loud, he’s cautiously singing the song with you and Minhee, letting you both take the lead on it. He appreciates the effort Minhee made to involve him but this is also clearly you and Minhee’s joint thing, he doesn’t want to intervene too much.

However, that’s not sitting with any of you, “Sunghoon put some chutzpah into it!” Minhee encourages.

Minhee is trying his best, the once subconscious act is now intended, he wants you to know he’s trying to get along with your boyfriend despite their past. You deserve that much.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in Sunghoon’s eyes as he gets sucked into the infectious energy of the moment and becomes more vocal. What neither you nor Minhee expects is for Sunghoon’s voice to be as good as it was. You had heard him sing maybe once in the shower but you weren’t paying attention, not like now. Now he has your full attention, leaving him and your brother to harmonise together.

As Niall's part comes on, Minhee playfully nudges your arm, signalling your turn to sing, a cue you eagerly follow. At that moment, the confines of the car seem to expand, enveloping you all in a bubble of pure bliss and laughter. It's something you want to etch into your memory, a snapshot of unfiltered happiness that you'll treasure forever.

The final lines of the song resonate through the air, and a sense of contentment settles over you all, transforming the cold winter morning outside into something warm and inviting, much like a spring day.

Minhee reaches over and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder, offering him a genuine compliment. "You've got a set of pipes on you, mate," he remarks, devoid of any tension, prompting a surprised look from you.

“Thanks, you’re not that bad of a singer either,” your boyfriend relays.

“Nah, it’s just singing next to her I sound like Adele or something,” Minhee pokes fun at you like always, clearly amusing Sunghoon because he just laughs and nods along. Honestly, if making some lighthearted jokes about your singing is the thing that makes them friends, you’ll allow it.

The rest of the car journey is now filled with chatter, mostly you and Minhee reminiscing about your upbringing, telling Sunghoon all the stories that embarrass one another while he drives you closer to the city. 

Sunghoon enjoys the way you two interact, it shows him why you were so determined not to hurt Minhee for all those months, putting aside your own happiness for him. Whenever competitions happened, he got to see you and Minhee’s relationship from the sidelines and that made him a little envious.

Ice skating has always been so lonely for him with no time to make friends with fellow skaters because his mum would be pulling him away to go home or keep him on the ice while everyone else went to get a sweet treat after training. His mum made him so lonely that she was the only one he could rely on.

That was until now. Jay and Jake were always there for him but it’s harder for them to understand since they aren’t in the sport directly, whereas you and Minhee both have grown up in the same gruelling surroundings as him. 

Sunghoon’s jealousy grew the more he saw Minhee, the loving sister, the nice coach, even a little less toxic of a mother, granted his opinions of her have wildly changed now that he knows everything. But even with that, Minhee seemed to have it all - he had everything Sunghoon wanted.

He would trade in every trophy for a little stability, for his dad to still be alive, to have someone devoted to him no matter what. That’s why when he saw you all those years ago, he knew you had to be in his life. 

The hatred he had towards your brother stemmed from his mother’s toxic whispers planting little nuggets of rumours and lies to make him hate Minhee, yet, as he looks at both of you now, he knows it wasn’t hatred, it was envy. And when Minhee said he couldn’t ask you out when he was a teenager, it fuelled anger in him for hogging you.

Your love and kindness shouldn’t be confined to your brother.

But like you said the other day, Minhee was scared to lose you and Sunghoon understood that feeling all too well now.

Enclosing your hand in his, Sunghoon threads his fingers with yours, longing for contact after his brain even thought about you not being with him, even for a second. 

You twist your neck to look at Sunghoon, fondly smiling at him. Watching his eyes shake, you know he’s thinking about something that requires your touch; he always did this, no matter the issue big or small, like having you there was enough for him to brush through the knots in his brain and sort it out. 

It felt so amazing to be so needed and loved like this.

Minhee interrupts the silent show of love and points out the windshield, “Looks like they know we’re coming,” he sighs as reporters hover outside the hotel entrance, cameras hanging at their sides while they chat about nothing. 

Sunghoon and Minhee are used to this but today is the day they’ll make a spectacle over them. For the first time in history, the two rivals are arriving together and not just that, they’re both a day late. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to sniff around and fabricate some sort of story, you’re just scared of what.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel, the reports poise their camera to get the money shot, they don’t know they’re in for a goldmine,

“Remember, head down, no comments, and just get in there,” Sunghoon instructs, earning a scoff from your brother.

“Nah, you can do that, I’m the pleasant prince, I pander to my audience,” Minhee smiles proudly.

This is where they differ in so many ways, how their brands set them apart. You have to say, you’re surprised Minhee is keeping the Princess Diana brand your mum created considering he hates it so much. Then again, it has created more opportunities for him regarding public events and ads.

Your mum was a witch but she knew what she was doing.

It does pose the big question: where is Mum? Is she already here? There has been zero communication between both of you since the phone audio incident, it was sickening to look at her for too long, not that she was home a lot of the time anyway. 

However, right now isn’t about her.

“I think Sunghoon might be right, Mini. They’ll hound you about why you and Hoonie are together,” you put forward, hoping he sees your point. But Minhee is Minhee, he loves being in the spotlight.

“It’s all good, Bubs. I got this,” Minhee pats your head, trying to bounce some reassurance into your brain.

Sunghoon is quick to jump in, “No. Minhee, you keep Y/N safe. There’s no way they won’t push and shove for a picture and if one of them touches her I swear to god, Minhee, it’ll be your head on the hotel pole,” his voice is strong and shoulders are wide and sturdy as he speaks.

You suppress the urge to bite your lip as Sunghoon talks, trying not to give away how much his protectiveness turns you on, although, as much as you’re trying to focus your face on staying neutral, your pussy is meowing out for him, the pants you're wearing sticking to you a little.

“Don’t tell me how to protect my sister, okay, I’ve been with her my whole life, you’ve only got a couple of months under your belt,” Minhee retorts, tone annoyed at the accusation that he would do anything other than put your safety first.

If there was one thing that would make them argue, it’s over you. 

“Guys, let's just focus on getting into the lobby, okay? No pandering, and no punching,” you point to them for their retrospective warnings. You seem to be intimidating enough because they fall back from their tense gazes and start to unbuckle their seatbelts.

When you step out, the cameras click rapidly, a few flashes getting in your eyes which Minhee’s hand reaches over to protect you from, one hand wrapped around your shoulder and the other covering your eyes. The shutters are more intense once they see Sunghoon coming around from the other side of the car.

A few gasps and ‘whoas’ can be heard as your boyfriend catches up to you both. As soon as that happens, all hell breaks loose.

Sunghoon! Are you finally changing your ways?

Minhee, did you steer Sunghoon away from his reckless life?

I’d watch out, Minhee, Sunghoon might be after your little sister next.

The last one creates tension between the boys on either side of you, as soon as you’re mentioned they both want to physically leap over and slap the journalist silly. You don’t like the inclination either, the idea that Sunghoon would just use you for his own gratification. 

Did the reporter say it outright like that? No, but all three of you knew that’s what he meant.

Minhee gracefully bows and smiles as he leads you through the reporters, thanking the ones who respected your need for space.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, remains cold, his look as frosty as usual, displaying little tolerance for the paparazzi's intrusive behaviour. Despite his apparent displeasure, he followed his own advice: keep a low profile and push ahead.

Once the chaos subsides, Minhee gently withdraws from your side, placing a comforting hand between your shoulder blades as he guides you further into the foyer. The interior wasn’t anything fancy; adorned with beige walls, plush couches occupied by guests, and a reception desk manned by two staff.

“Are you alright?” Minhee’s concern was palpable as he peered into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or vision loss. The flashes were extra bright today.

You shake your head, offering reassurance, “I’m fine, it wasn’t too bad, certainly could have been worse.”

The hotel staff promptly retrieves your luggage from the car, each of your party expressing gratitude. Minhee also hands them a tip, slipping in a signature wink as he did so. 

Sunghoon huffs beside you, stroking the back of your head, “Fucking ridiculous. They’re acting like they haven’t seen us before,” he states, the patting of your head getting rougher the more he thinks about it, “Heard one of them call us Blades of Glory.”

Minhee lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hands in amusement. The other boy didn’t find anything funny about the situation.

The receptionist checks you all in, a room for you and Minhee, and a room for Sunghoon. He had a double room to himself since his mum wasn’t coming.

One thing Sunghoon refuses to speak about is his relationship with his mum, as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t spoken since the argument a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes when you look at your boyfriend when he is training, you wish he had her there. He assures you it’s for the best but you do mourn it a little, hoping they could patch up their relationship and start anew with him as her son, and her as his mother; no manager roles and athlete, just family love.

Sunghoon isn’t so sympathetic to the situation. Sure, he misses having her around but that’s just because it’s a habit, plus, she was his manager and having to navigate everything on his own was becoming overwhelming, but he’ll manage.

Sadly, he doesn’t even miss her as a mother figure.

Luckily, you’re all on the same floor just 4 doors apart. Once you reach your respective rooms, you kiss Sunghoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. His hands run up your back, accidentally picking up your jacket and t-shirt in the process, the feeling of his fingertips leaving a warm trail in their absence.

Sunghoon smiles into the kiss, dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He could do this all day, and some days he has, but this time you have your brother impatiently waiting for you both to untangle yourselves.

“Enough, that’s disgusting,” he retches, fake poking a finger down his throat, “Are you guys always like this or is it your attempt at torturing me?” 

Pecking Sunghoon’s lips one more time, you plant your feet back on the ground and face Minhee, “You’re so dramatic. I can kiss my boyfriend whenever I want to,” you sarkily reply.

“Not in front of me you can’t,” he mumbles, face holding an expression of disdain for you and your boyfriend's PDA. He doesn’t protest further, instead unlocking your room and waiting for you to get inside.

Hugging you from the back, Sunghoon leans down, “Come to my room tonight? And the night after, and the night after,” between each request, he kisses your neck, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

The butterflies in your tummy never settle when he’s around and the love in your heart only gets stronger, “I’ll pop in tonight but I promised Minhee I would spend the night before Nationals with him, it’s kind of a thing we have.”

Before every big competition, you and your brother pick a TV show, grab a few face masks and play smash or pass with the cast. You came up with it randomly one night and it stuck ever since, helping him to relax and you to eye up whatever Song Kang drama you manage to persuade him to watch with you. 

Nodding, Sunghoon smiles, spinning you to face him, “Sure, makes sense you guys would have a ritual or whatever,” there’s a tiny hint of sadness in his voice which throws you a little.

“I can ask Minhee to swap it to tonight?” you propose but Sunghoon shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. Do your sibling stuff-”

“You’re welcome to come,” Minhee’s voice interjects behind you. It’s strange how quickly Minhee is accepting Sunghoon into your routines and quirks; first it was the song in the car and now this, “You don’t have to but it would suck for you to be on your own the night before a competition.”

You want to ask what happened to your brother and why a clone has taken over his body, but this is exactly what you wanted, so why fight it?

“I don’t know, seems like your thing, I don’t want to just jump into it,” Sunghoon scratches the back of his hand, a habit he has when he’s nervous. In this instance, it’s cute.

“If I’m inviting you, it’s not you ‘jumping in’ is it? Plus, you get to see your precious girl drool over other men right in front of you,” you nudge your brother's stomach with your elbow before explaining to Sunghoon your plans and that you absolutely do NOT fawn over other men.

Everyone knows it’s a lie.

“Then yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Minhee,” Sunghoon is genuinely appreciative of the offer. He’s never had anyone to do things like this with, usually opting to just rest up and force himself to sleep early.

Minhee nods, “Great, just don’t be all kissy and touchy, it’s gross.”

A ping hits Minhee’s phone and as he reads the message, his once relaxed face turns tense, “It’s mum. Wants to take us out for dinner after the press conference,” he doesn’t bother replying, locking his mobile and stuffing it back in his jean pocket.

You don’t want to go to dinner with her, or even see her. Truthfully, you hoped she just wouldn’t turn up, “Do we have to go?” 

The pout on your face is exaggerated, your eyes pleading with Minhee to say fuck it and not go, however, he doesn’t give in to you, “I suppose.”

Looking at Sunghoon, they do that stare again, the same one when they came out from their secret conversation at Belmore. They nod to one another, making you even more confused.

Before you can pipe up and ask, Sunghoon gives you one more kiss, “I’ll see you later, baby,” and with that, he retreats to his hotel room. Your boyfriend was probably your best chance at getting information, Minhee is too strong and wouldn’t slip up as easily, so you leave it to rest, hoping that it’s nothing too serious.

One thing is for certain, you know it’s about your mum.

_____

“Can we steal the soap?” Minhee pops his head around the bathroom door, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You and Minhee are resting up after the press conference. All in all, the reporters asked straightforward enough questions, intrigued by Minhee's secret routine and the promised 'surprise' he hinted at. Of course, you've witnessed the routine firsthand and are eagerly anticipating everyone else to experience it with the same amount of awe as you did.

To your surprise, there were just two questions concerning Sunghoon: one asked whether Minhee and Sunghoon were now friends, and the other asked if Minhee was afraid of his rival. Minhee's reaction to both was a solid 'no', however you think the first answer might change.

You sit up on your bed, rolling your eyes in dismissal of your brother’s question, “No, Mini, we can’t steal the soap.” The one thing about Minhee was that he loved a freebee, and you too honestly but you draw the line on bath soaps that you know no one will use and just collect dust in your toilet back home.

“But if I put it in my case and hide these ones, the staff will need to give us replacements,” he says, showing you the tiny bottle of liquid soap as a way to entice you to agree with him.

"Let me guess, then you'll swipe those too?" you retort, crossing your arms.

Minhee nods eagerly. "Of course!" he says it with such conviction, as if you're missing out on a golden opportunity for more soap.

As you get up, you snatch the bottle from his hand and head to return it to its rightful spot. "I'll just buy you some soap, alright? Let's leave these here. If there's any left, we'll take it home." Sometimes, you feel like you take over the role of your mother when you have these talks with Minhee.

"Fine," he grumbles, flopping onto the mattress. "I'll just ask Sunghoon to swipe me some then."

You whip around at the mention of your boyfriend's name, watching as Minhee starts tapping away on his phone. It's like entering the twilight zone.

"You guys text now?" you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised

“Only for important things,” he mumbles, too busy planning a scheme to get Sunghoon on board with his ideas. 

You try to imagine in what world hotel soap is important.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that your brother and boyfriend were actually getting along, and not just that, that most of the initiation was from Minhee, you would have cackled in your face. There was no chance in hell of that happening, yet, there is it. All those months of worrying about both of them, the arguments, the fighting, the hatred, all washed away so quickly. 

Sunghoon and Minhee aren’t best friends, they tolerate one another; that’s what they are telling themselves at least. Your brother asked for Sunghoon’s number after the conference to ‘keep an eye on him’ but you knew better than that.

Minhee wanted to be his friend because he knew if he did, you would be happy. Everything in his life, he does for you.

A ping sounds from his phone, and a wicked smile spreads across his face, “Ha! See, your boy is on board!” he shows you the text message from Sunghoon which reads ‘If you get the soap, I’ll grab the shampoo and conditioner. We go halfsies?’

“You’re both ridiculous,” you quip, pushing Minhee’s phone away from you. 

You can’t deny the warm feeling in your chest as you watch Minhee laugh at his phone, the friendship between them both blossoming in front of your very eyes.

A loud knock on the door startles you both, your hand reaching for your chest at the fright. Was it really necessary for someone to bang the door so ferociously at 5pm, especially when the hotel rooms are already small, echoing the vibrations around the walls?

Minhee stands up, making his way to answer rudely to the person on the other side for almost giving him a heart attack; however, when he opens the door, the last person on earth you want to see barges through your door.

“Ugh, can you believe they’ve put me in a room on the other side of the hotel away from you? Took me 10 minutes just to get here,” your mum huffs, blowing her fringe out of her flushed face. She looks like she’s just run the London Marathon, not walked across a lobby and rode the lift.

It’s amazing how one woman can change the atmosphere of the room. The once happy and carefree vibe you and Minhee were basking in has now been sucked out, replaced with a heavy cloud of anguish.

There’s an anxiety creeping up into your chest as you face your mum for the first time since that day. You were unequipped to handle the situation because of her sudden presence, thinking you would at least have a few hours before she requested you for dinner. 

But she’s here, right now, and you have to face this head-on. 

She clasps her hands together and spins to face Minhee and yourself, “I have news,” she exclaims, delighted with whatever information she is about to share.

A quick glance at Minhee and you both share the same sceptical expression. He steps closer to you, hoping that you can find some comfort in his presence, which you do but this is also your conniving mother you’re both faced with, anything can fall past her lips, and that makes this ten times more nerve wracking.

“After Sunghoon pulled that god-awful scheme - so sorry, Y/N,” her words speak of condolences yet her tone is anything but sympathetic, “I have found something else.” The delight on her face makes you feel sick. You know Mrs. Park is the biggest cause for this rivalry, so why is she so intent on bringing Sunghoon down to the lowest pits of hell and back? 

You nor Minhee have told your mum that you know the audio of Sunghoon was AI-generated, or that you and Sunghoon are back to being as in love with each other as ever, in fact, she might have brought you closer together. Her little plan actually got you and Sunghoon to promise to be one hundred percent honest with each other, especially about your feelings for one another. 

Sunghoon meant it when he said he wanted to start fresh, a clean slate, but for him that just meant professing his love to you all over again, determined to make sure you never doubted his true intentions for you ever again. Of course, you did the same, telling him how you would trust him and your relationship before anything else because why on earth do you have any reason not to?

“What are you talking about?” Minhee is the first to speak between you, taking the lead as your bigger brother. He didn’t know what she had up her sleeve but he wouldn’t believe a spoken syllable that came from her mouth; not anymore.

Happily, your mother picks out her phone from her handbag and searches for something. There is a sickening feeling rising in your stomach again, the deja vu washing over you. Minhee senses your unease and rubs your back softly, and as you turn your attention to him, he shakes his head, assuring you that whatever you are going to see will be fabricated.

However, as she passes your brother the phone, you see a video waiting to load and see a familiar-looking lawn.

Oh no.

As Minhee hits play, you see Sunghoon’s fist connect with that boy's face, the same boy that touched you, the night you called him to come get you. The sickness that had stilled before has now reached the tip of your throat, your heart pounding outside your chest only making it boil more.

This is real, this isn’t fake.

The scene in the video is so strange because as you hear your cries for him to stop, you don’t remember it that well. You knew he punched fuck out of the guy but you hadn’t really visually recalled it in your memory, yet, it was like living the feeling all over again. 

Your brother watches the video with the same shock and horror as you do, except, he is more concerned by your shrieks in the background. When was this? He ponders to himself, confused as he continues to see Sunghoon beat the boy down. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Sunghoon killed him. Fuck, he genuinely might have as far as Minhee is concerned.

He recognises the boy in the video, having had a few altercations with Yeonjun and his team himself over the years, so he knows that whatever caused this ruthless beating, it was probably something bad.

“W-where did you get this?” you ask tentatively. If your mother has seen it, anyone could have.

With a glint of victory, she answers, “Facebook of all places! I was just scrolling and someone shared it,” she shrugs, leaving you to battle with the information that your boyfriend's attempt to protect you might be the very cause of his downfall. You recall something he said not too long ago,

“Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.”

Sunghoon spoke those words and you knew they were true, yet, you hoped it excluded you, but this just proves you’re just as bad as your mother.

Minhee feels your distress beside him, your body shaking slightly as you continue to watch the video. He doesn’t know what happened or why but he knows you’re traumatised by it. He stops the video, locking the phone abruptly, “Mum, what does this have to do with anything? This is just a video of him punching that guy from the hockey team,” Minhee tries to downplay it, hoping and praying your mum hasn’t already done something drastic with the video.

“I’m taking it to the board, obviously. He can’t get away with causing violence,” your mum speaks. You take the time in the silence that surrounds the room to wonder if she would be so eager to share the video if she knew why Sunghoon was on his knees, beating the guy to a pulp.

Minhee shakes his head definitely, “No, mum, you’re not,” his voice wavers; this is the first time he has stood up to your mum in such a long time. Her claws were usually so deep into your brother that he stood back and took it, but not any more.

“Huh?” your mum asks perplexed, head tilted to the side in curiosity, “Don’t you see, Minhee, this is how we guarantee you the win, they might let him skate but nullify his points. Remember what we have on the line,” she tries to be secretive but you already know what she’s talking about.

“Stop! Just stop trying to interfere with this, with my skating, with the Parks. Just fucking stop.” The sudden rise in Minhee’s voice makes you jump but he is quick to rub your back again, trying to prove his determination to make this right, for all the times he let her puppeteer him into doing her dirt work.

He breathes out, “I told Y/N everything, and I told Sunghoon. We also know that the phone call was fake and that you’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a mother,” his voice is venomous, the words harshly leaving his mouth. 

Your mum is silent, not even her breath can be heard amidst Minhee’s speech, “You’ve done nothing but hurt us since dad left, constantly blaming me for putting you in debt, never acknowledging your daughter or any of her achievements. I won’t stand here and let you do this anymore.”

“But Minhee-”

“No, you listen to me. I will win on Saturday and when I do, take all the money you get from this shitty bet and fuck off out of our lives, understood?” You stare at the ground with wide eyes, scared to look up and see the anger in Minhee’s face, his voice being scary enough. 

It’s unlike your brother to get this angry, you thought the extent of his rage peaked when he confronted you about your relationship with Sunghoon. But this is much worse, more dangerous. 

Then again, this is also years of being told you owe your career and livelihood to someone who only uses it against you would also take its toll on you.

Sucking in a breath, your mum moves forward, “What are you talking about, baby boy. I’m your mother,” she tries to soften him up but it won’t work. He’s too far gone in his rage.

“No, you’re not. From this point on, you’re no one’s mum. When you get your winnings, take them and never speak to me or Y/N again. I am sick to the back teeth of you putting unnecessary pressure on me, getting me involved in all this mess with Sunghoon. Not to mention how you’ve been treating Y/N the past few months.”

“You can’t kick me out of my own family!” she protests, all acts of sorrow gone in a flash, replaced with fury. 

“I just have. I’m moving out, I’m taking Y/N with me, and this is the last you will see us,” Minhee’s chest is closing in on itself as he finally loses all cool, ready to give your mum everything that’s been waiting for her.

Exhaling, your mum yields, nodding disapprovingly, “You make sure I get my money. You brats deserve nothing considering the life I provided for you both.”

That last sentence confirmed everything you two already knew, it was always about the money. Part of you wonders if it was always about the money, or if that was just something at came along the way. For your peace of mind, you hope it’s the latter. 

Despite her ways, you like to believe she did love you guys at some point, and deep down still does.

The tension in the room is so thick, it’s choking you, causing you to clam up and stay silent. You want to say so much; how she never gave you both anything, that it was your dad who set you both up with your lives, how she took away your happiness and put the relationship with the love of your life in jeopardy. You wanted to shout and scream at her, but it was useless. She won’t listen, her face beat red.

Without uttering another word, she goes to leave the room, snatching her phone back, but Minhee isn’t done, “Oh, and don’t think for a second of showing that video to any of the skating board, or else I’ll turn myself in about Sunghoon’s skate and tell the police exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Both you and your mother exchange fearful glances – you, worried for Minhee's cherished career, and your mother, concerned about her potential loss of status and wealth.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, your mother scoffs, shaking her head. "You wouldn’t dare," she argues, trying to convince herself as much as her son.

"Try me. I have nothing left to lose," he retorts.

"You wouldn’t sacrifice your Olympic dreams," she counters smugly, believing she's won the argument.

"I would sacrifice anything for my sister's happiness, a concept you clearly can't grasp."

Your eyes fill with emotion as Minhee's words sink in. Could he really be prepared to give up his dream just to protect you from your mother? To safeguard you from any potential harm. As you lock eyes with your brother, a deep realisation sweeps over you: absolutely, he would.

Your mother walks out of the room in a disappointed huff, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere packed with unresolved tension. Left alone with Minhee, you both silently battle with the weight of the dramatic event that just took place, processing it all in your own way.

As the echoes of your mother's departure fade, a solemn stillness settles over the room, punctuated only by the sound of your shared breaths. You and Minhee exchange a wordless glance, each grappling with the weight of the confrontation that has unfolded.

“The video…you were there. What the fuck was that about?” Minhee questions, his voice not quite accusatory, but still webbed in anger. Honestly, you should have expected it, the bloody scene would be a cause of concern to anyone and after he just said he vowed to protect you, he wanted to know how this situation arose.

"It was a party, about three or four months ago, I think," you begin, weighing your words carefully as you try to gauge how much to reveal to Minhee. Your brother is already teetering on the edge of adrenaline-fueled rage, and recounting the details of Heosun's unwelcome advances towards you doesn't seem like the best idea in the current tense atmosphere.

Minhee listens attentively, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Go on," he prompts gently, sensing the weight of your hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, "There was this guy who wouldn't leave me alone, and Sunghoon came to pick me up, and well, you saw what happened." You lower your gaze, feeling a pang of shame at the memory of the chaos that ensued that night.

Now, with your mother's hands all over the incriminating video, you feel the weight of the burden resting heavily on your shoulders. If she were to show anyone that footage, it could spell the end of Sunghoon's career – all because of the consequences of your past decisions.

Despite Sunghoon's reassurances that none of it was your fault, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It's one thing to hear those words, but it's another to truly believe them, especially in the face of such dire consequences.

Minhee can feel your body tremble and it softens his mood, his brotherly instincts taking charge over his anger. He pulls you in for a hug, scratching the back of your head to soothe your thoughts.

“I would say I’d kill that hockey player if I wasn’t convinced Sunghoon’s already taken care of it,” he chuckles at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your overthinking is taking hold of you, scared for what will happen. 

Knowing you your whole life, Minhee knows what your brain is doing right now, “Hey, you aren’t to blame for any of this. Heosun is the one to blame for trying to take advantage of you,” his fingers dig into your scalp as he says the crime out loud. He can’t stand that he wasn’t there for you during your time of need.

However, he is thankful Sunghoon was there.

He leans back to look at you, your eyes glazed over with thoughts. Patting your head, he tries to reason with your mind, “You can’t let mum’s manipulation make you feel responsible for all of this. Sunghoon is a grown man and he made his choices,” he sees his words infiltrating your doubt, like a soldier breaking down the gate to the castle, “He did what anyone would have done.”

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his support even as the guilt continues to run through you, "I know, but... what if I could have handled things differently?" you mumble, the weight of self-blame heavy in your voice.

Minhee shakes his head, his eyes filled with conviction, “Don’t do that, Bubs. You did everything you could, I believe that.”

His words provide a glimmer of consolation amidst the disarray of your thoughts. For a minute, you allow yourself to lean into his calming presence, drawing strength from your brother's support.

You both sit in silence for a while, needing to calm down from your emotions. The whole ordeal has led you away from a pivotal point in his conversation with your mum, something that you wanted to question.

“What if you don’t win?” you pull your head from his chest, looking up at him concerned. If he doesn’t win, there’s no knowing what your mum might do. She would lose far too much money just to let it slide, not to mention the vendetta she probably has against Minhee after his harsh words.

Calmly, he smiles, “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry.” With a kiss on the top of your head, he releases you from his grip. It’s a clear indication that he doesn’t want to push this conversation any further.

But you can’t help but be concerned.

_____

Pressing your key card to the door, you walk in and instantly hear laughter coming from Minhee and Sunghoon. The sound fills you with a sense of relief, worried that your absence from the hotel room to grab some snacks from the shop down the street was enough time for them to start arguing and throwing punches.

You really should have had more faith in them, particularly after the car journey, yet, you still have a horrible feeling that settles inside your chest because it’s all going too perfectly.

Minhee is doubled over, face red from laughter while Sunghoon’s eyes are wide, an incredulous smile smacked across his features. It’s amazing how well they shine together when they don’t have their mothers putting the weight on their shoulders, forcing them into unhealthy competition.

“She padded it so much to impress you, it was hilarious!” you hear Minhee cackle as he speaks as you shut the door behind you. They haven’t noticed your presence, too caught up in the hilarity of their conversation.

Sunghoon lets out a ‘huh’ in realisation, “That’s what that was? I was so confused, I thought she had a reaction to something,” he chuckles, still processing whatever information Minhee was divulging. 

The atmosphere is light, making you smile widely as you walk further into the hotel room, “What are you guys talking about?” 

Turning to face you, both boys burst into another fit of laughter as soon as they see you. It makes you self-conscious, suddenly making you wish you checked yourself in the lift mirror before coming back.

Minhee wipes a tear from his eye before letting you in on their little secret, “I told him how you stuffed your bra with tissue paper trying to impress him,” he points his head to Sunghoon who is currently rolling on the bed in stitches.

The memory flashes in your mind as your face falls. You were young, foolish, and watched 13 going on 30 a little too much; it was a stupid idea. In your defence, a rumour was circulating that Sunghoon’s ideal type was someone like Irene from Red Velvet and she was so perfect you tried to look like her, stuffed bra and all.

You stand traumatised for a minute as you start to vividly recall the way your tissue boobs must have looked to everyone else, “Oh my…god! Can you guys shut up, I was like 12,” you groan hiding your face behind the bags of starburst and skittles.

“You didn’t even need a bra,” Minhee argues back, clearly enjoying the torment his story is providing you, “It’s my brotherly duty to tell your boyfriend all the embarrassing stories I have about you,” he’s smug, lips upturned in a grin.

Forcefully, you toss his sweets at his head, aiming for pain. But Minhee has fast reflexes and dodges it easily. Out of all the stories to tell, why did it have to be that one? Couldn’t it have been the one where you accidentally vomited all over him after he punched you too hard in the chest or that time you wrote a marriage proposal to Niall Horan and even set a date. Anything but the padded bra. 

Sunghoon is still laughing, also reminiscing about that day, however, he isn’t so embarrassed. To be honest, he didn’t pay much attention, and he certainly didn’t know it was to impress him. Knowing it now only gives him more reason to be completely in love with you because even at 12, you wanted to be with him so much you were willing to change for him.

But he never wants you to change. Not ever.

“I honestly can’t believe you thought that would impress me,” he starts to calm down, beaming up at you; however, he is just as guilty for laughing, so you throw the last packet of sweets at his head. He isn’t so used to avoiding flying objects and you hit him straight on his nose, “Okay, ow!” he winces dramatically.

Sometimes you forget Sunghoon is an only child and didn’t have the sibling reflex, “Shit, I’m sorry, Hoon,” you apologise, leaning down to assess the damage but before you get too close, Sunghoon bursts into laughter once again. Slapping his chest you sit next to him, disgruntled. 

Once he has composed himself, he sits up and pulls you into his side, kissing the top of your head, “Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute,” he whispers into your hair, trying to ease your brass neck. You can’t help but smile at his words, glad that he didn’t see you as some pathetic little girl.

You fail to understand that Sunghoon could never perceive you as anything other than perfect. Sure, no one actually is flawless, but you’re pretty close in his eyes; you’re perfect for him.

“Okay, I will stop telling stories if you guys stop acting so mushy,” Minhee relents, opening his packet of Skittles. 

Tilting your head up, you place a soft kiss on Sunghoon’s lips, just to add a little torment to your brother which works because he’s fake gagging on his bed. He’s so dramatic but you’ll take the teasing over him holding a grudge about your relationship.

“I love you,” Sunghoon whispers tenderly, his hand squeezing your soft side, “padded bra and all.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” you push him away playfully, trying to act annoyed but it doesn’t really work, you can’t stay angry at him for longer than a day - your entire relationship journey has proven that; even when you fight, big or small, you always find your way back to one another quickly. 

You don’t mean to think so seriously in such a lighthearted moment, but you can’t help but be thankful for everything that has transpired. There are times you want to start over completely, not lie to your brother, stick up to your mum, skip the whole ‘friends with benefits’ deal and just be with one another completely. But in truth, it’s just made your relationship stronger, both of you releasing that there isn’t a day you both don’t want to be together.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sweets?” he asks in a whisper, petting you with love. 

You shake your head, “Nothing, just happy. That’s all.” And it was the truth, you’ve never been more content with anything in your life.

Minhee clears his throat, “Guys, seriously. Glad you’re all in love but can we pick a show now?”

Sunghoon and you shuffle to sit on your bed, getting comfy as Minhee flicks through the TV section on Netflix and when you and your brother both see My Demon in recently added, you both turn to one another, smiling brightly.

Your boyfriend isn’t completely aware of your obsession with Song Kang, but he is about to find out.

_____

As the hours go by, face masks have been done and subsequently making the whole room smell of paella and vanilla, you begin to hear Minhee snoring on the other bed; you’re 5 episodes into My Demon and clearly, he has had enough. Fair enough, it is reaching midnight and he is up extremely early tomorrow, but so is Sunghoon and he is wide awake, not caring about his beauty sleep one bit.

In fact, he has started caressing your thigh a bit too close to a certain area. All night he’s found some way to touch you, either a hug, spooning you, or grazing his fingers over any skin that isn’t covered. Luckily for him, your shorts have ridden up just enough to leave the tops and inners of your thighs exposed.

You push his hand away, “Mini is right there,” you speak lowly, trying to caution him off but Sunghoon couldn’t care less, only tracing up further to your core.

“He’s sleeping,” he argues back as he spares a quick glance to a passed-out Minhee.

Honestly, he was so sick of you melting when Song Kang popped up on the TV, he’s not afraid to admit that he’s jealous. Every time you held in a squeal as the actor smiled or had his top off, he knew he had to get you back to reality, back to the time when all you saw was him. It was childish but he doesn’t bother to worry about that, knowing you like it when he’s a bit possessive and clingy.

You sit up straight to face him, eyes flashing in warning, “He could wake up,” you’re trying to reason with him but his face doesn’t show any sense of understanding of how badly this scenario could end. You’ll do a lot with Sunghoon but fucking him while your brother is in the room is a hard pass. He was insatiable, you always knew it, you just thought he had some decorum when it came to having sex in front of family.

Smirking, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “With how loud you are, he probably would wake up.” Teasing you isn’t the best approach for getting what he wants, he sees that in your peeved expression, “Fine, how about we go to my hotel room?” he offers as a solution.

With his fingers now dancing along the top of your pussy, you quickly agree, already standing up and pulling him out of the room, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut. 

Once you both enter his room, he wastes no time, kissing you roughly like he has been wanting to do since you changed into your little pyjamas. The heat from his body is a telltale sign that he’s ready to just ravish you as soon as he gets you naked.

And that he does, stripping you of any material you have on and pushing you onto the bed. You’re a vision in front of him, some hickeys and bruises scattered over your body from the last time you had sex, which in Sunghoon’s mind, was far too long ago. 

With hungry eyes, you watch as he sheds his own clothing, revealing his arousal as he strokes himself slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation, craving the feel of him inside you, the throbbing intensity of his desire mirrored in you.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he says suddenly, licking his lips mischievously.

You lean on your elbows, confused by his words, “What kind of surprise?”

Holding a finger up, he  bends down to his suitcase, rummaging through it to find something, only making you more curious, “It’s in here somewhere,” he states more to himself than you, his smile widening as he comes across something, “There you are.”

As he stands back up, you look into his hand and your jaw hits the floor, “Where did you get that?”

Sunghoon stands proud as punch as he twirls the pink rose toy in his right hand, smiling at it happily, “I know a thing or two, Sweets.”

You had your own rose toy at home, literally more prized than the award you won a few months ago. It’s your saviour when you’re too stressed or just craving some release when Sunghoon isn’t readily available. You hadn’t told him about it, so you’re a little shocked he had one.

It also looked much better than yours so you’re going to have to sneak it into your bag before you all leave on Sunday.

Snaking his way to you, he shows you it up close, “Y’know, I used to think these toys were the enemy, taking away something from me,” he pauses, spitting on the top of it, rubbing his saliva into the creases of the rose petals, “But then I thought, it could really be an asset.”

Pressing the power button on, the machine starts to vibrate and suck in air, making you swallow dryly in anticipation. You knew how good it felt when you used it on your own so you can only imagine the power it holds in Sunghoon’s hands. 

Sleeking it to your folds, he wastes no time in pressing it directly on your clit, wiggling it around to make sure he has it on your sweet point. As you gasp and fall flat on the bed, he knows he’s found it.

Sunghoon knows how it works but this is admittedly his first time seeing it in action and by God was he glad he stumbled across it on Twitter. The way you’re already wriggling under its suck is causing his cock to jump straight up in arousal. This is such a nice change for him, to see how your tits move from side to side as your body responds to the sensation on your clit, your mouth falling open so beautifully as whimpers escape. Normally, he’s got a different view, his head buried where the rose toy is right now; he’ll need to find more ways to witness you from this angle.

“Hoon! It’s-” You don’t get to finish your sentence as he loosens the toy which only makes it suck your clit up harder. What you were going to say is that it’s already got you close, the mix of the vibration and everything else proving a bit too much. 

Typically, when you use the toy back home, it’s a 5-minute job, the flower living up to its hype, and now is no exception. But there’s something even more arousing about your boyfriend being in control of it all. If it got a little intense, you could normally pull it away of your own accord, but with Sunghoon in control, you don’t have that luxury; you need to power through the fire that is burning within your nub.

Seeing you close, he licks and bites his bottom lip, thinking of how he can take credit for some of this climax, rather than congratulations only being on the vibrating machine in his hand. He suddenly shoves three of his fingers into his mouth, gathering his spit onto them before brushing them along your hole. 

The rose already has you super wet so it’s easy for him to slide his digits right in, getting to work on finding your spongy spot, the very spot that he always curls into and gets you cumming. 

With the addition of Sunghoon’s fingers, your eyes roll to the back of your head, only the whites of your eyes visible. It’s intense and you’re going to cum so hard over his fingers you might genuinely be spent after this one orgasm.

Like a crash, you cry out his name, chanting a few swear words for punctuation as you cum. Your clit throbs and puffs out as you orgasm, only making the toy have more to suck and pulse onto. It’s like heaven and hell all came at once, not sure if the pleasure outdoes the pain or vice versa. To be fair, the pain isn’t excruciating, you just feel yourself being overstimulated by the rosebud and Sunghoon’s fingers which isn’t a bad thing, just takes some time to adjust.

Sunghoon’s fingers thrust into you fast, each time he drags it out, more of your essence is left on the hotel covers, painting them a darker shade of ivory. He thinks it’s a waste, how the bedsheets get to soak up your juices when it should be his tongue, but he can’t change up the pace now, your body speaking the words you can’t. You’re enjoying this far too much.

“Sunghoon, please!” you whine while your body instinctively tries to retreat from his touch to find relief. 

“You want something, baby?” he asks so innocently, his fingers still thrusting into you with velocity, “Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

He sits on his knees, looking down at you to wait for your response, one he knows will take all your strength to muster. You’re a sight to behold; eyes screwed shut as you try to work through the overstimulation yet your mouth breathing out loud moans. 

“Cock,” is the only word you can say, so drunk on the pleasure that you’re practically dumb in lust, not a thought in your brain other than getting fucked by Sunghoon’s thick cock.

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, “You want my cock?” your boyfriend’s ego is already big but when he gets you into bed, it increases tenfold. He adores that you want him and his body just as much as he wants yours.

“Fuck, yes, Hoonie, please,” you beg, trying to remove both his hands so he’ll just slip into you. 

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he says huskily, his heart swelling in his chest with pride. 

However, what you want him to do is remove the toy with his fingers, which is clearly a pipe dream since the next thing that happens makes you scream. 

His fingers are replaced with his long cock, but he doesn’t remove the toy from your aching nub, rather, moving it even more directly over you, dancing it along with your body as you try to get away. He’s being so cruel to you, causing this torment of excessive stimulation.

Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way though, he knows when you finally relax and ride through the burning, you’ll be begging him to keep going. Also, with every thrust of his cock into your tight pussy, he gets a jolt of vibration hitting the end of his shaft, giving him a new sense of pleasure.

He hasn’t ever used toys on himself, his hand and you being all he needs, but he might just have to find a few new ways to incorporate some toys into the mix. Perhaps he can convince you to let him use a massager in the future.

Jackhammering into you, he throws his head back, getting lost in the feeling of your walls slamming down on him. Your body is busily thrashing beneath him, only giving the tip of his member new areas to get in amongst. 

“You feel so fucking good, Sweets,” he groans out, only going faster and deeper into you. The toy is an excellent companion, however, it’s limiting his horsepower, wishing he could just bend you in half and drive into you with no mercy. 

Finally, he takes the flower from your clit, and your body instantly relaxes. The cold air whisking over your hot pussy is like breathing in fresh air after being in a stuffy room for too long; it’s heaven. 

It doesn’t take Sunghoon long to find a new purpose for it though, placing it over one of your hardened nipples, “Hold that there for me, baby,” he asks, making sure that your nipple is full inside the hole of the toy. You feel the vibrating all the way up to your jaw, but you oblige, anything for him to fuck you like he always does.

Getting into a new position, he finds a new harsher rhythm, his pointed thrusts snapping into you with the purpose of getting you both off. Sunghoon’s entire body is rocking, the bed squeaking lousy under you both, only drowned out by the clusters of your moans.

Before you know it, you’re cumming again, this time, you think you’re going to squirt all over him, the feeling of release far too intense to be a normal few sprits that will coat his cock. Instead, you roar loudly, like no noise you’ve ever made before, one of those groans that comes straight from your toes and through your chest. You lose grip of the toy and focus on finding anything to anchor onto, scared you might float away with your second climax.

Hearing you cry out erupts a drive in him, his hips moving into you just as you like it. Flinging your legs over his shoulders, he grabs both of your hands in his and piledrives into you, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss. 

You can tell he’s close too, the heavy rise and fall in his chest a dead giveaway. His cock is leaking cum into you in short bursts, causing his hips to jerk quickly into you, almost like he’s trying to make sure his dick is stuck inside you as deep as it can possibly go. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, a little bit of drool falling from his lips which you gladly lick up before slipping your tongue into his mouth. Sunghoon can’t stop cumming inside you, each time he thinks he’s finished, a few more ropes escape him. 

You can feel both of your cum running down your ass cheeks, the escaping liquid running hot as Sunghoon musters up any energy he has left to hold himself above you, “I think I might have set a new record for how much cum can spill from a man,” he laughs, giving you eskimo kisses.

Reaching over, you turn the rose toy off, leaving the room filled with only your intertwined heavy breaths and laughter. You feel so happy in this moment that you could honestly die happily right now.

Sunghoon climbs off you, pulling you up with him, leaving a gentle his on your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to find something to clean you both with. You lean over the bed, finding one of his t-shirts sitting in his suitcase and putting it on your spent body. The best part of spending any form of time with Sunghoon is stealing his clothes.

Walking back in with a face cloth, he wipes your pussy and thighs down, his fingers fishing out any cum remnants left. The sudden curling of his finger makes you clench again, “Sorry, Sweets. That was just a lot of cum, need to make sure it’s all out,” he whispers.

“I’ll go pee, that’ll help,” you say back, pushing him away to give you a pathway off the bed to excuse yourself to the toilet.

While you’re in there, he tidies up and puts on some fresh boxers, his cock still softening from the intensity of the fucking it just had. As he picks up the rose toy he smiles, chucking it into his case with a promise to use it at least once more before you leave. 

“Tomorrow is a big day, huh?” your voice travels from the bathroom as you wash your hands. 

“I suppose so,” Sunghoon responds, a little too nonchalant. 

He should be nervous, it’s a massive competition that is broadcast to thousands. Sure, he has done this a few times but surely with the ankle injury, he should be a bit apprehensive about going out there. 

You climb onto the bed and sit on his lap, arms circling his neck, “Why don’t you seem worried about this?” you ask, playing with the ends of his dampened hair.

In response, he shrugs, “I’m the number one skater, why should I be?” This isn’t his normal cocky attitude, this is something else. He knows something that he’s not telling you.

And you’ll be damned if you’re kept in the dark about another thing.

“Tell me the truth, Sunghoon. We promised not to lie to one another anymore.”

“It’s not lying if I just withhold information,” he replies, his lips trying to distract you as they pepper kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

But you push him away before you do get too into it, “That wasn’t the case when I ‘withheld information’ about Minhee breaking your skate,” you retort, hating to bring up the past but when push comes to shove, you’ll do it.

Closing his eyes, he nods in understanding. Sunghoon knows you’re right, you don’t deserve to be in the dark, “I’m throwing the competition tomorrow.”

The room goes quiet as you process his words. At this moment, you feel a sense of burden creeping back onto your body, “What do you mean throwing it? You haven’t lost a competition like this since you turned 16.” He isn’t the Nation’s best skater for nothing, he’s proved time and time again that he’s not to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the conversation with his mum pops back into your head for some reason. Her lack of acknowledgement of Sunghoon’s talents must have been with him for so long - fuck, they might still be with him. Maybe he’s throwing it in defiance?

He sees you think it over and over before he finally interjects, “I’ll still place top 3, Sweets. I’m just making sure he comes first, that’s all.”

“Why would you do that? You know if he finds out, he’ll be livid.” You can’t imagine Minhee ever wishing Sunghoon to yield it so easily, your brother worked too hard to perfect his routine to win by some giveaway.

“Okay,” he breathes out, knowing this conversation is about to get a little difficult, “We both decided it, actually. That day we went into the coach's office? Yeah, that’s what he wanted to talk to me about.”

“You want me to what?” Sunghoon asks, accompanied by a scoff. 

Minhee bites his tongue from making any rash comment, needing the other skater on his side for his plan to work, “I want you to throw Nationals.” 

Letting a venomous laugh out, Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re seriously asking me to purposefully lose at Nationals after everything you’ve done to me? To Y/N? You can forget it.”

Storming off, Sunghoon can barely reach the door before Minhee swings him back around to face him, a fire in his eyes that Sunghoon has never seen before, “Look, this isn���t for me. It’s for Y/N.” 

“Yeah of cours-”

“Let me fucking finish, Park,” Minhee snaps, his voice raised and arm gripping Sunghoon a little rougher, “Y/N told you about our mum, how she has stakes on me winning?” he waits to make sure you did actually have such a conversation with your boyfriend, to which Sunghoon nods, waiting for your brother to continue, “If I win, she gets a boat load of money, it’s all illegal and there are rules and stakes that I don’t even know the full detail of but either way, she’s playing it dirty with some big bosses. She took money from some guys to put the bets on, y’know?”

Minhee’s explanation isn’t convincing his counterpart, wondering where you come into this, “I don’t hear Y/N’s name in this. If your mum has a gambling addiction, that’s between her and the guys she’s fucking over, not my girl.” 

“The bets are in Y/N’s name.”

“What?” Sunghoon yanks his arm from his grasp, stepping back a little, “You mean she’s tied up in all of this?”

Nodding, Minhee feels the familiar boil of rage within him. He still can’t fully comprehend how his mother could do this to you, she is meant to look after you, not cause you harm, “I know, it’s fucked. If mum loses these bets, guess who everyone is going to be gunning for?”

Sunghoon’s heart quickens, the thought of you being in danger is making him feel sick and the words hang heavily in the air between the two people who love you the most. Your entanglement within this mess of a web was the last thing Sunghoon thought Minhee would say.

“So if you win, and she gets the money…”

“Then they get their cut. Happy days, my sister is no longer in danger,” Minhee rubs his temples, trying to give his brain a moment to gather itself before he divulges the rest, “I’m telling you this because I know you love her and as I said, you’d be doing this for her.” 

There is so much to think about that Sunghoon’s brain is sparking out a little, but one thing is for certain, he is going to do everything in his power to protect you, “Fine. I’ll lose. But how do we know your mum won’t do something else?”

“I don’t,” Minhee confesses truthfully. He has no idea if she’ll even give the men their cut once he wins, “I’m gonna tell her that I know about her gambling and the illegality of it all, hope that scares her enough to not try and fuck any of us over, y’know?”

“That’s all you’re going to do? The love of my life is out there with a target on her back and you’re just going with a presumption that she’ll back off by a threat?” There is steam coming from Sunghoon’s head and his fists are balled up in rage. This isn’t something to be taken lightly.

Minhee holds in his frustration, knowing Sunghoon is only looking out for you, but the lack of faith in him is making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool, “She might be your girlfriend, but she’s my sister, alright. I have been doing everything in my willpower to keep her safe since we were little…Listen, I know my mum, she’s scared and I can see it. She’s way deeper into this than she knows how to deal with, she wants that money and to get away from those gambling sharks, yeah? My mum won’t do anything like this again, I feel it.”

It’s a hunch, a loose, untrusted huch, but it’s all he’s got. He just wants to protect you right here and now. If your mum stoops low enough to bring you back into a mess like this, he’ll sort it when the time comes.

Seeing Minhee’s resolve, the raven-haired boy retracts, calming down. He knows Minhee is trying his best, and if he can keep you out of immediate danger by coming in second at a competition, he will gladly do it.

You sit still, processing the bomb that has just been dropped on you. The gambles being in your name is something you had no idea about, hence why they probably didn’t tell you about this grand plan. 

What does someone even do in this situation? 

Sunghoon rubs your arm reassuringly, trying to get you to speak or even make a noise of acknowledgement. He can’t imagine how difficult it must be to hear this for the first time but he knew that he couldn’t tell you; if he let you in on Minhee and his secret, you would have tried to solve the problem yourself, to help everyone else in the situation as best you can, and he couldn’t watch you do that, not when none of this was your fault.

“Don’t throw it,” you say firmly. 

Sunghoon freezes, his hand stilling on your arm as he looks at you, surprise evident in his eyes. He hadn't expected those to be the first words to break the heavy silence that enveloped the room, “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you crazy?” 

Perhaps you are, but you can’t watch anyone sacrifice their livelihood, especially a chance of gold at Nationals, just for you. It’s selfish, on both your part and your mother's. No, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, but there was something you could do now.

Unfortunately, this is what Sunghoon was afraid of.

“You saw Minhee’s skate, he’s phenomenal. I want him to win this properly,” you confess quietly, still struggling with the information relayed to you only minutes ago.

“What about your mum? Sweets, this is a full-proof plan to get you both away from your mum, to let you both live without her mess,” his left hand cradles your cheek as he moves closer to you, as if hearing the solution from a closer distance would suddenly help change your mind.

It won’t, you’re determined to have this conversation end your way the only option forward is, “Please, Hoonie. If he loses, we will deal with it…but I believe in Mini so much, especially after seeing the rehearsal a few weeks ago. I want him to know he can win this on his own merit.” Your eyes search for any ounce of understanding.

Sunghoon's brow furrows in frustration, his mind racing with the weight of the decision before you both. He wants nothing more than to protect you, to shield you from harm, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to upset you and go against your wishes.

Taking a deep breath, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his embrace offering silent reassurance and support. "Okay," he says finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll do it your way. I won’t throw the competition but ONLY if he does well. He’s on before me on the card so I’ll make the call then,” he can barely believe he’s agreeing to this.

A mixture of relief and fear wash over you. You understand the gravity of his concession, knowing that it's not an easy decision for him to make. It fills you with gratitude that he actually listened to you.

"Thank you, Hoonie," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean into his embrace, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "I promise, we'll figure this out together. And Minhee... he'll do amazing, I just know it.”

The belief you have in your brother is something Sunghoon only wished for growing up, seeing how determined you are to make sure Minhee knows he’s talented enough to win and solve this mess by just being good at what he does makes your boyfriend a little envious. He knows why Minhee is so protective of you, but now seeing how you protect and only do the right thing for one another, putting your sibling before anything else, it’s admirable.

“What time is he on?” you ask, twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“2:35pm. I’m on at 3:45pm so I’ll see the scores and whatever in plenty of time to determine what to do.” There is a new sense of life in Sunghoon, certain that no matter what happens tomorrow, he’s going to make sure you and Minhee walk out happily, with no worries perched on your shoulders.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

[bookwormjust]

Sisters by choice not blood (established relationship with Cassian, Feyre in a breaking point)

You sat on the plush couch in the River House, Feyre beside you, her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back her sobs. You had known something was wrong the moment you saw her earlier, the weight of everything she had been through weighing heavily on her. With Nesta and Elain recently transformed into fae, the burden Feyre carried seemed even greater now. She had always been the strong one, but everyone has their breaking point. And tonight, it was clear she had reached hers.

Without a word, you pulled her into your arms, hugging her tightly, letting her rest her head on your shoulder as she finally allowed herself to break down. Her tears soaked into the fabric of your shirt, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was being there for her, giving her the comfort she so desperately needed. You rubbed gentle circles on her back, whispering soothing words as she cried, her hands clutching onto you like a lifeline.

“I’m here, Feyre,” you murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

She sobbed harder, her grip tightening. “I don’t— I don’t know what to do,” she choked out. “I try so hard, but it’s never enough. Nesta and Elain—they don’t see me, they never have. I don’t know if they ever will.”

Your heart ached for her. You had always seen how Feyre felt like the odd one out, how her sisters had their own bond that often left her standing on the outside, trying to keep the family together. Now that they had all been thrown into this new life as fae, the strain was even more unbearable.

“You’re not alone in this,” you whispered, holding her closer. “You have me. You’ve always had me. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Let me carry some of it with you.”

Feyre’s sobs began to quiet, but she didn’t let go, her head still pressed against your chest as she breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. You continued to hold her, your arms wrapped around her protectively, offering her the sisterly support she had so desperately needed.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Rhysand and Cassian had entered the room, standing silently by the doorway, watching the scene unfold. Rhys’s face was full of emotion—sadness at seeing his mate in so much pain, but also pride at how she had come to you for comfort, how she trusted you in this vulnerable moment. Cassian stood beside him, his hand resting on Rhys’s shoulder, his expression mirroring Rhysand’s.

They didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt, but their presence was palpable. Rhysand and Cassian, though not related by blood, shared a bond as deep as brothers, forged through years of battle and hardship. And now, watching you and Feyre, they saw something similar—a bond of sisterhood, one Feyre had never truly known with Nesta and Elain.

Rhysand’s voice was soft, barely a whisper as he spoke to Cassian. “She needed this. She’s needed this for so long.”

Cassian nodded, his gaze fixed on you as you continued to comfort Feyre. “She has. And I’m glad she found it in her.”

Rhysand’s eyes filled with gratitude as he watched you, the love and care you showed for Feyre not going unnoticed. He knew that despite everything Feyre had gone through, she had found something precious in you—a sister who truly understood her, who would be there for her in ways Nesta and Elain hadn’t been.

Feyre sniffled, finally pulling away slightly, though she kept her hand on your arm as if grounding herself. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with sincerity. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled gently, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, Feyre. Always.”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance, both of them proud and touched by the connection they saw before them. It reminded them of their own bond—a bond built not by blood, but by choice, by love, by loyalty. Just like Feyre had found in you.

Cassian came up behind you quietly, his large hand resting on your shoulder as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. He didn’t need to say anything—his touch conveyed everything he felt in that moment. Pride, love, and respect for how you had stepped in when Feyre needed someone the most.

Rhysand crossed the room, kneeling in front of Feyre and gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re stronger than you think,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But you don’t have to be strong alone anymore.”

Feyre looked at him, her eyes still red and swollen, but there was a glimmer of relief in them now. She glanced between you and Rhys, her heart swelling with the realization that she wasn’t alone—that she had a family who loved her, who would carry her through the darkest of times.

As the night wore on, the four of you stayed close, talking softly, the weight of the world lifting slightly off Feyre’s shoulders. And through it all, Cassian stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, knowing that just as you were there for Feyre, he would always be there for you.

[heartpascal]

i was born waiting

▹— joel miller x daughter!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him?

▹— a/n: hi! i started writing this september ‘23, so it has. it’s been a WHILE. so if this seems jumpy / not consistent then that is why! sorry!!! i have done my best!!!

▹— warnings: canon-typical violence and themes, weapons, parental death, witnessing parental death, aka insane amounts of trauma, death in general, she/her pronouns, reader is biologically related to joel but no mentions of appearance, no mention of her bio mother’s appearance either, fantasising about being dead (sorry), all hurt zero comfort, attempted murder, unrealistic expectations of someone you never met — please let me know if ive missed anything!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being @hqkon

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There are certain things from your childhood that you can remember vividly. Though, really, childhood is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? It’s hard to find the right word to encompass the way you had grown up, because you didn’t have much of a chance to actually grow.

From the moment you had been born, your life was a battle of staying alive to see another day.

That’s not to say that your mother didn’t do her best for you, obviously. But it was hard to raise a child as a child in the midst of a global apocalypse. You were bound to end up the way you did — moulded and hardened by the world around you, by having to pick up a gun at seven years old and use it to protect your mother. By never putting that gun back down.

For the past few years, you had known your mother was suffering. The world had been anything but kind to her, and age was hitting her harder than she had expected. More than the physical aspect, you knew it had been destroying her, the fact that you were now the one protecting her and not the other way around.

But what choice did you have? Her aging body had left her fragile, prone to falling and breaking even more frail bones. You could see the strain on her muscles, as they slowly decayed and shrunk, until they were barely there at all. You couldn’t let her carry the burden for you anymore, because you knew her body couldn’t handle it.

You had been preparing yourself for that moment, though. Making sure that you were ready, that you were strong enough for the both of you, strong enough to shoulder the burden she had been carrying for years.

When you were growing up, your mother had told you tales of your father.

She had told you all about how strong he had been, how he had been the best man she had ever known. She told you how he had cared for his daughter before you, how he had been the best father to that girl. When you were old enough to comprehend these things, you’d asked what had happened to him. “Is dad dead?” You had asked her, watching the way her face fell.

“I don’t know, honey. I hope not.” She had responded, smiling sadly at you, and patting her hand against your cheek.

It was hard for you to let go of that.

The uncertainty had haunted you for the rest of your life since that very moment, leaving you wondering for hours at a time where he could possibly be, why he would ever leave your mother to carry this responsibility alone. And in your more selfish moments, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t here to care for you as he had his daughter before you.

For a long time, you had convinced yourself that he was dead, despite what your mother hoped. And sure, you felt that loss, something like mourning weighing you down, but it was the only way you felt you could accept his absence. He had to be dead, because otherwise, why wasn’t he here?

But as you grew up, getting taller, stronger, you felt like you could rationalise his absence even if he wasn’t dead. After all, the apocalypse wasn’t exactly family friendly. You figured that if your mother didn’t know whether or not your dad was alive, that the same could go for him. He might just think that you and your mom died, years ago. After all, how many pregnant women survived the end of the world?

You have a feeling that the answer would have to be not many.

So, really, you and your mother being alive by now was nothing short of a miracle. It was a testament to your mother’s strength, her ability. She had succeeded where so many others had failed, and she had managed to keep both herself and you alive.

It’s a bitter kind of irony that you can’t do the same.

The last dredges of autumn fall away, leading into the coldest and harshest part of the year. Winter is hard — it’s full to the brim with fresh Infected, the ones not yet frozen solid, and resources are more scarce than ever. And this winter feels like something tangible, something which sends unending waves of dread through you.

Your mother gets weaker by the day, spending more time resting than moving, and you spend as much time as you can keeping her warm, finding food and water and pain relief for her broken arm that didn’t heal right. She’s exhausted, you can see it in her face, in her every movement. And you’re pretty sure it’s not just from the lack of rest. She watches you with dulled eyes, something like heartbreak reflecting in them.

For a long time, you pretend not to notice.

You pretend that you don’t see the way she lags behind, just watching you move away from her with speed she can’t quite manage any longer. You pretend that you don’t see the way she hesitates before taking her painkillers, or her food, or the last sip of water.

This year, the winter brings something worse than the cold. A bug, spreading across the state in a way that was familiar to so many. Not quite the Infection, but still able to take out people with ease.

When your mother catches it, you physically felt your heart clench in your chest. You felt it squeezing all of the blood around your body so quickly that you became dizzy with it. There’s a panic so deep that you can’t climb your way out of it. For days, weeks, you’re certain that you’ve lost her. That after everything, everything you’ve done, everything the two of you have been through, a cold would be the end of it all.

But then, she gets better.

The little strength she had before the sickness returns to her, bringing some colour back to her skin, some ease back to her breathing.

Religion wasn’t a thing in the apocalypse. Not really. But if you had believed in God, you would’ve thanked every one that might’ve existed for giving you this. This miracle. This small mercy.

The two of you are in an abandoned barn when it happens.

You’re dozing away, not quite asleep, but not awake either, when you hear the sound of old hay crunching underneath boots. If you weren’t so familiar with the lightness of your mother’s footsteps, you might’ve passed it off as her wandering. But these boots are heavy. They’re purposeful.

The gun in your hand means nothing when you jerk upwards, eyes snapping open and squinting through the light let into the barn by the rising winter sun. It’s an image that has since been ingrained into the back of your skull, replaying each time you close your eyes.

There, right in front of you, is your mother.

Behind her, a man, a gun pressed to the back of her skull.

Your stomach lurched suddenly in that moment, the small rationed dinner you had before dozing off trying to rise to the back of your throat, trying to race the rapid beating of your heart to see which would kill you first.

“Put down the gun.” He said, voice cold, throat dry from the winter air. The sound of his voice is printed in the base of your brain, echoing every time things around you still, go quiet.

He could be bluffing, you thought in the moment. His gun could be unloaded. It didn’t take you long to notice that the safety was off, but in those few moments, he had pressed the end of it harder into your mother’s head. You dropped the gun to the floor without another moment of thought.

You were nauseous, waiting to wake up, to realise this was all some twisted nightmare.

But you could see a look in your mother’s eyes. Acceptance. Defeat. It was almost familiar to you, so closely related to the look she had been giving you for months.

All this time, she had just been waiting to die. Waiting for something to come along and kill her off, to free you from having to take care of her. She knew that if it was up to you, that you would look after her for the rest of your goddamn life. If she lived any longer, she might just live long enough to see you die.

“Slide it over.”

You barely registered the cold pinch of metal against your palm as you pushed the gun away from you, sending it skittering over the rough ground and into the side of an old hay bale.

“Now your pack.”

There was a numbness to you as you gripped the backpack you had been leaning against, and chucked it towards where he stood behind your mother. It hit the front of his boot, but his eyes didn’t stray from where he stared at you.

“Turn around.”

You stared at him, teeth gritted together.

“No.”

There was a beat where both him and your mother just watched you. And then the surprise flickered across his face, apparently not expecting any resistance from you.

“Turn. Around.” He told you, firmer this time.

“No.”

“Okay then,” He relented, after a moment of consideration. His eyes drifted down towards your mother, who stared forwards at you. “This your daughter?” He asked, jerking his head towards you despite knowing your mother couldn’t see the movement.

“Yes, she is,” Your mother said, voice shaking, her breath clouding in front of her face as it reached the cold air. “Please, just let her be.”

He hummed, dropping his free hand down to rest heavily on your mother’s shoulder, his fingers clamping around it and not helping the way she trembled.

“So, your momma, huh?” He asked you, a smirk drawing up his face, showing smile lines around his murky blue eyes. His hair rustled in the wind, a piece falling down across his forehead. He stared at you, and you stared at him, not daring to say a word, still hoping that this whole thing was a dream. Muscles in his cheek twitched, pulling his skin taut and showing a scar across his left cheekbone. “Good.”

There was a moment where the sound didn’t register. A moment where you didn’t even realise it was your mother when the body slumped forwards. A mere moment where you didn’t think about it being her blood that splattered across your face.

The moments after that though, become blurry, hazed over, and you’re not sure it actually ever hit you that the body before you was your mother.

You’ve always had a hard time remembering that bodies were once people, that they once had lives and loved ones and thoughts and feelings. That they weren’t just bodies. So seeing her like that, as a body, not her, was wrong on so many levels. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did.

You heard the second gunshot, just a moment later, followed by a snickering laugh that you would never forget, before the pain bloomed in you.

It was buried by the shock, the complete disbelief, and you only felt the pain for mere seconds.

His gun — the one that killed your mother — was whacked across the side of your head a moment after, and that was the end of that.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Three months passed by, judging by the way the seasons turned, and you were on your own.

It was a strange feeling, really. Throughout the entirety of your life, you had never actually been alone. At least, not really. Your mother was always a small ways away, a mere shout from running to you. There had never been any true distance between the two of you until that day.

A sort of ache claws your throat each day, when you realise that it’s easier like this.

The only back you have to watch is your own, the only life you have to worry about belongs to you, and you have nothing to lose in this world. There was no terrible outcome if you were caught. Nobody else would be hurt, or suffer because of it. And you’re less likely to be caught now, when you don’t have your mother slowing you down. You don’t have to stop for the frequent rest breaks she needed, you can try to outrun Infected without worrying about someone lagging behind, and you only have yourself to feed.

If your mother had known how much easier survival was when alone, you hope that she would’ve abandoned you at birth. Because perhaps, without the burden of you upon her shoulders, she wouldn’t have fallen apart so quickly.

Sometimes, you like to think of a world where she was spared all of this. Never pregnant with you, for a start. So when the infection broke out, she would’ve only had herself to worry about. You think that maybe, one day, she would’ve been able to reunite with your father. If she hadn’t been carrying a child, she would’ve been able to manage the journey to where she believed him to be. You look at the picture that had been in the pocket of her coat for your whole life, the papers folded and clipped to the back of it, one word underlined: Boston.

You had reached a store in the weeks after that day, and when you found a map, it wasn’t difficult to notice that the direction the two of you had been heading in was to that very city.

It’s a long shot. More than a long shot, really, but you find yourself continuing in that direction regardless. You don’t know what you hope to find in Boston, whether it was your dad, or the man who had killed your mother, or perhaps just somewhere to take shelter for a while. You try not to hope for anything. You try not to focus on the fact that you might not even make it that far.

It keeps you up for days.

The uncertainty of it. The unknown. The fact that you’re walking your way to a city you know nothing about, almost certain that your mother’s killer was already there, and more than that, consumed by a fever that might kill you regardless of the where the journey took you.

The only sleep you get results in fever dreams, rippling, warping images that make your perception falter, feeling all too real until you notice that it’s not. And when you do wake up from them, it’s as if you haven’t slept at all. An exhaustion weighs heavily upon you, and your shoulders hunch over with it. There’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get rid of that endless feeling.

You hope—or wish, maybe— that if you reach Boston, the journey there will have tired you out so much that your body will have no choice but to rest. It’s a distant thought in your mind, though. You’re almost certain you won’t make it that far, because if the fever doesn’t get you, surely the Infected will.

It’s not as though you’re trying to get killed. But there is a kind of peace that comes with the thought. There’s an idea of rest behind it, hiding within the shadowy depths that make you scared. Would not having to fight in order to survive really be so terrible? You have this image in mind, of a never ending blackness, a void, somewhere that your thoughts and worries can just fizzle away. The small part of your fever-fried brain that has retained its rationality reminds you of the unknown. It reminds you that death could be worse than this.

You don’t like the thought. Not after that day. It’s a shuddering feeling, wondering if your mother is in some kind of unreachable hell.

By the time you’re even close to Boston, a few hours out at most, you’re out of ammo in the gun you’d found along the way. Out of food rations. No knife, no resources. You’re barely standing on two legs, kept up by the adrenaline, the knowledge alone that you’re this close.

When the tall walls of the QZ finally come into view, you start to feel some amount of hope. Which is a dangerous thing, but especially in a situation as dire as your own. You couldn’t afford any adrenaline fading, couldn’t afford to lose your cautious nature. You couldn’t make a mistake. One wrong move, one slight misstep, and you’d be as dead as your mother. Or worse, infected. Though this close to a QZ, you had some amount of relief at the knowledge that they should’ve cleared out any nearby infected. Runners, and clickers alike.

Your steps don’t falter for a moment. Partly because of your worry about the fever taking you out, but mostly because you’re certain that the FEDRA guards on watch on top of the wall will have spotted you, and you don’t want them to think you’re Infected, just because of your sickly appearance, and shoot on sight. Though, with FEDRA’s track record, it wouldn’t surprise you if they just shot you down regardless.

For a while, you’re not sure if you’re even awake, or if perhaps you were stuck in yet another fever dream. Everything felt so real and so not real simultaneously, it felt impossible to believe that you had actually made it.

Soldiers met you on your approach, calling out for you to get on the ground with your hands up. You called back some sort of response as you did so, practically collapsing to your knees and squeezing your eyes shut at the pain that followed. But despite all of it, despite the pain and the rough hands that grabbed you and pulled you forwards, through the gates and straight into a building, you had made it to Boston.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was maybe three weeks into being a resident of the Boston QZ that you caught wind of him for the first time. Or, at the very least, somebody who might be him. You didn’t know how common the surname Miller was, being a child of the apocalypse, but you kind of hoped the answer was uncommon.

“Goddamn Miller, again.” A man had muttered as you walked through the trading market. You paused almost instantly, pretending to peruse the feeble amount of clothes a woman had to trade. “Said we gotta go through him and Tess if we want anything, as if we gotta listen to them.” He practically spat out, glaring around as he spoke to the woman beside him.

“They’re the most well established smugglers in the whole goddamn QZ. Don’t have to tell you how, do I?” She asked, sounding more annoyed with her companion than she was with whoever Miller and Tess were. “Joel is as nasty as they come, Darren. Don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

Your heart practically stuttered to a stop in your chest, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Could there be another Joel Miller? One who wasn’t your father? Sure, it was possible. Plausible, even, considering the fact that you had absolutely no idea if he was here. Not any concrete idea, anyway. Your mother had believed as much, but who was to say she was right?

Besides, whoever this Joel Miller was didn’t sound like the man your mother had told you about. As nasty as they come didn’t have any relation to the heroic and kind and amazing father and man your mother always spoke about. Though, you knew as well as anyone what the apocalypse could do to people.

Darren didn’t say anything else to his companion. So, after a few more moments, you continued on your way, making the journey to the tiny box apartment that FEDRA had elected to you.

But even as you got there, sitting down on the poor excuse of a mattress, you couldn’t shake the conversation out of your mind. After everything you had been through to get here, what was it all for? Could you really make this journey and just never try to find Joel Miller? Your father? You could still remember the anxiety that had come when you first arrived, when you were strapped into a chair and scanned for the fungus that had taken over so many. You didn’t know what you were more scared of: the idea that it would flash red, and you’d be killed, or the idea that it would be clear, and you’d be sent out into the QZ, where you may just find the other half of your DNA.

You don’t even know if you want to find out anything about him. Don’t know if you could face that, especially after losing your mother. That’s been the hardest thing since being here, since having your own place, the fact that you’ve gotten it all without her. It feels… empty. For your whole life, she had been there at your side, making every short stay at whatever accommodation you could find feel like home.

Plus, even if you did consider trying to find him, and if it was him those people were talking about, then who the hell was Tess? What if she got upset at your appearance, your claim as Joel Miller’s surviving child? You’re not sure you can lose another parent.

Sure — Joel Miller wasn’t exactly your dad, he couldn’t be classed as a parent in the way that your mother was, but if you never met him, that could’ve been for any number of reasons. He could be dead. He could’ve thought you and your mother were dead, all these years. You didn’t want to face a reality where you met him, and he wasn’t present for you and your mother because he didn’t want to be. You’d rather live your whole life thinking him six feet under, than know he was out there, and just didn’t care about you.

The more you think about it, the more certain you are that Boston was a mistake.

It would all be different if your mother was alive. If she had brought you here, if she had been the one to hear the chatter about Joel Miller, if she had been the one to seek him out. But she was dead, and the only living connection you had to Joel was, too. Hypothetically, if you did seek him out, you didn’t know enough about him to prove your claim as his child, and without your mother, how could you make him believe you?

They had been a family, once. They being Joel, your mother, and your deceased half sister. You’d heard the tale of how Joel and your mother had met, of how it took months for him to finally feel comfortable introducing her to his little girl. Hell, you had heard almost as much about Sarah as you had about Joel. Your mother had certainly adored his daughter, and you’re somewhat sure that they had planned to have you, despite Sarah already being a teenager.

You don’t want to have to mourn a family you had never actually had. Perhaps, Joel and Sarah were out there, living their lives certain that you and your mother were dead, just as you and your mother had done.

Not that any of this even mattered — you didn’t even know for sure if it was the same Joel Miller! And even if it was, it’s not like Boston QZ was small. There’s absolutely no chance you run into the man who might just be your dad. No way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You find someone else, before you hear anything more about Joel Miller, and it immediately sends the thought of your biological dad to the very back of your mind.

After all, it’s not every day you see the man who murdered your mother.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. You had guessed that this was the place he was heading, all those moons ago. But to actually see him, here, in the flesh, alive and well despite all of the pain and heartache and devastation he had caused you? It was surreal. You had to practically pinch your skin from your body to make yourself believe he was real.

And it only really hits you now, that this man killed your mother. You had been so focused on surviving, on living to see another day, on healing and moving and getting away from her body, buried in shallow dirt outside of some abandoned barn. You can vividly remember the strength it had taken to pry the frozen dirt from the ground.

Sure, you had felt the guilt over it, the guilt over the ease that came with surviving without her, guilt over your very existence, but you’re not sure you had ever actually grieved over her. Not sure if you had ever let yourself be sad, be angry, be anything about what had happened.

But now, seeing him, you feel… almost too much.

All of the rage and grief you had squashed in favour of surviving another day, all of the sadness and fear, all of it. It all comes rushing towards you at once, hitting you in the chest, winding you. You gasp for breath on the street, ducking away for a moment, gripping your chest like you could physically hold your heart steady.

When you look back out at the street, you see him as he nears the corner. Panic grips you at the thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, of failing to avenge your mother. You follow after him before you can think better of it.

It’s strangely easy. You fall back into the life of a hunter like it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever known — and maybe it is. You’re healed up, by now, or about as healed as anybody gets in this world, and your shoulder only bothers you when you move it too much. Even with that, you’re pretty sure that you could take the man on. Now that you’re not hazy with sleep, caught off guard, held back by any sort of earthly tether.

You’re strong. And despite FEDRA’s harsh reign, their dire consequences for rule-breaking, you have a switchblade stuffed into your shoe. You could do it. You could kill him.

There’s no question about it in your mind, especially as you follow him from a distance, and he remains none the wiser. He takes a left, and a moment later, so do you. He’s clueless. It’s almost painful that he was the one who managed to get the jump on you. How could you have let this man kill your mother?

He skids to a stop outside of a doorway, so you slide down the wall of the building opposite and listen. He pays you no mind as he knocks twice on the door.

“What d’you want, Colin?” The man who opened the door asked gruffly, seemingly inconvenienced by the man. He sounded tired, or out of it, maybe.

“I need the supply.” Colin answered, and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down the back of your neck. It echoed in your ears, the words he said that day. Good. Everything in you itched, like thousands of critters had dug into you and made a home scuttling around your insides. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to end his life, and you wanted to make it slow. Brutal. Painful. Even if it meant you were hung by FEDRA tomorrow morning. It’d be worth it.

The man at the door sighed, as if deeply bothered by getting Colin what he needed, and disappeared inside. He emerged a moment later, empty handed. “I’m all out. You’ll have to go across town tomorrow.” The man said flatly, saying nothing as Colin swore, before stepping away.

You ducked your head down as Colin passed, all too aware of the man in the doorway watching you suspiciously. After a moment, he sighed again, and retreated inside, slamming the door after himself. It took almost no time at all for you to push yourself back to your feet, and take off after the man who had left.

Despite your pounding footsteps against cracked concrete, he didn’t pay you any mind as you caught up to him. He seemed focused on getting to wherever it was that he was unknowingly leading you to, glancing up at the darkening sky every other step. FEDRA’s curfew would be coming into play soon enough.

To your disappointment, he walked into an apartment building, about three blocks away from your own. It seemed that, unless you were willing to risk being caught and stopped, today wasn’t the day you would be avenging your mother. You vowed that tomorrow you would do it. You would kill Colin. No matter what got in your way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

By the time curfew was lifted, you had been waiting by the exit of your building for an hour.

The switchblade in your shoe felt heavy with every step you took towards the home of your mother’s killer. It weighed almost as much as the picture in your pocket. All of it was heavy. But you acted as normally as you could manage, passing by patrolling FEDRA guards without them so much as glancing towards you.

You were waiting by his building when the door opened, when he stepped out, and headed determinedly in the opposite direction from which you had come. You followed without a moment of hesitation.

He made his way around town, trading with a few people on the side of the streets, handing them small wads of ration cards in favour of various items. Nothing dangerous, though. Not to you. He clearly was oblivious to your loitering figure, standing a few metres away, like some omen of death. Despite your shadow reaching for his shoes as the sun rose, he didn’t flinch.

It was irritating you, just how easy this was. You had been following the man for two days now, and he hadn’t even noticed. How had he gotten the drop on you? How had he managed to kill your mother? How had you allowed him the opportunity to do so?

There was nothing remotely special about him — no reason that he should have survived over your mother, no reason that he should have been granted mercy over the last twenty years. He didn’t deserve it. Not like your mother had. She had done the best she could, for years, for the only daughter in her care. And she had done it all alone. This man, Colin, he was alone, and he had no reason to hurt her. You were going to make sure he regretted it.

You loomed at the entrance of an alleyway as he walked down it, finally stopping at a dead end, leaning against the brick wall as if he was waiting for something. Or someone. You knew it wasn’t you he was waiting for, so you bided your time, cautious of someone happening upon the two of you. If they had business with him, they would care. If they didn’t, then nobody but FEDRA would care.

By the time you finally decided to move, almost an hour had passed, and Colin was facing away from you at the entrance of the alley, head pressed to the bricks.

It was strange, what the innate desire to hunt and kill could bring out in you, that it could make you move silently without thinking about it. It could make you reach for the blade in your shoe, without so much as a rustle of your clothes.

With a final glance back at the entrance of the alleyway, you grew impatient, and you attacked.

From an outside perspective, you probably looked like some kind of wild animal. You jumped at him, tackling him, pushing him sideways and landing on his back as his shoulder smacked the asphalt, and he howled in pain. It was like seeing a cheetah hunt an antelope, the way you bored down on him. If you could have widened your jaws, and ripped out his insides, you think you would have.

But without that ability, you could only press the cold metal blade to his throat, and feel him go still.

“Do you remember me?” You asked, voice flat and still, despite the way your heart felt as though it would beat out of your chest, and splatter down in front of his face. You were quieter than you had expected, too. You thought that the words would burst out of you, vicious and unending, but they were quiet. Calm.

Colin shook his head, as much as he could with the side of his face pressed to the ground, and a blade to the soft skin of his neck.

“Think about it.”

His eyes strained to try and get a look at you, and they widened as you leant sideways slightly, allowing him to gaze at your blank face. “Oh, shit,” He said, mouth fumbling around the words.

“Yeah, shit.” You repeated, waiting for satisfaction to seep into your chest cavity, waiting for the grief to fade away.

It didn’t.

Nothing changed, even as you pressed the blade closer to his throat, even as you watched his eyes dart back and forth, as you watched him try and formulate a plan to survive. “Listen, kid—” He started, throat bobbing against the knife, drawing the tiniest line of blood. You watched him bleed, and expected to feel more than numb.

He threw your weight backwards, sacrificing more skin on his throat to your knife. You went flying off of him, but you flung yourself forward faster than he could stagger up, and dug the knife into his calf as he tried to stand. His yell pierced the air, louder than any of the commotion yet, and likely drawing attention of people out on the street. You just hoped, distantly, that FEDRA wasn’t around.

His flesh and muscle moved as you pulled the blade free, and you didn’t flinch at the squelch of blood that left him alongside it.

Colin fell back to the floor, resulting in crawling along the asphalt without care for how the small stones cut into his palms, leaving streaks of blood. “You don’t gotta do this, man, chill out!” His voice had more emotion in it than it had back when he killed your mother, which was infuriating. “It wasn’t personal!” He insisted, crawling further as you got to your feet, prowling after him similarly to the wild animal you felt like.

You’d disagree with his statement, though.

He already had your pack, you had already relinquished your gun — the only thing you refused to do was turn so you could be executed. If you were going to be killed, you were going to look your murderer in the eye. Instead of that, though, Colin had decided to make it personal. He had decided to kill your mother, to spread her brains out on the ground in front of you, to cover you in her blood, rather than spare her. And then, worse, he had let you live.

That seemed pretty personal.

“You killed my mom.” You stated, getting closer as he turned so he was facing you, watching you get closer. “D’you remember what you said to me?”

He shook his head.

“You said good. You were glad that it was my mother. Admit it, Colin. Tell the world all about how not-personal it was.”

More than anything, you wanted to feel satisfaction for how badly he was trembling beneath you, for how scared you were making him. But you just didn’t. Fear wasn’t enough. Not for what this man had done to you.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He said, shaking, still shying away from you,

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry that I’m here, that you’re going to die. And that isn’t something to be sorry for.”

“Pl—Please, I have a daughter—a son, you don’t need to do this.” He begged, tearing up as he watched your grip on the switchblade tighten, watched you continue to approach. He was pathetic. Everything about him was pathetic.

“She had a daughter, too.”

His eyes widened as you leaped at him once again, digging your knife as deep as you could get it into his shoulder, feeling it graze bone as you pushed the hilt firmly against his skin, until you could practically hear the blood vessels breaking. He howled, a wounded animal, prey. And he did nothing as your fist descended against his face, once, twice, a third time.

It was just as you were losing count that somebody grabbed you, hauling you up and away from the body sprawled out on the floor, the puddle of blood slowly expanding beneath him. His chest was stuttering, but he had stopped groaning minutes ago.

“Well, shit.” A woman’s voice said, not sounding particularly authoritarian, so you figured she wasn’t FEDRA.

The hands grasping onto your arms released them shortly after, and you dropped to the asphalt, watching Colin’s chest closely, waiting for his breathing to stop. It didn’t seem to be slowing much, and you could feel that unending wave of rage coming back to you, overruling the numbness, and enhancing your need to have him dead.

You moved the slightest bit, about to launch yourself at him, but as soon as your foot was pushing you from your spot on the ground, the hands wrapped around your arms again.

“Fuck! Get off of me!”

“We can’t let you kill the guy, for fuck’s sake. We got business with him!” The woman spoke again, sounding increasingly irate as she moved to get between you and your mother’s murderer.

“He deserves to die. He deserves to be killed. Get off!” You practically roared, resorting to a state not unlike a feral cat, spitting and hissing, spine curling, trying to claw at the hands holding onto you. They stayed steady, even when you managed to scratch one of them deep enough to break skin.

The woman swore again, “Everybody deserves to die, get a hold of yourself!”

“Tess, ‘s probably best if we get him out of here.” The man gripping you said, voice straining slightly as he focused on keeping you restrained. He couldn’t do anything but hold on to you and watch as Tess dragged the guy, by his ankle, down the alley slightly, banging on a side door that you hadn’t even noticed. It opened, and the man inside swore before helping Tess grab the guy and haul him inside.

As soon as the door was safely shut, the man released you.

You walked to the end of the alley, gripping at the back of your head, swearing the whole way. You were probably screaming, given the way your throat was grating on every word, but the sound didn’t register.

“Joel, you’d better get in here.” Tess called, poking her head out of the door. You could hear the irritation in her voice, but it was immediately sent to the back of your mind as you realised what she had actually just said. You whirled around.

He wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

But he was… familiar.

You couldn’t help it — you laughed, almost hysterically.

“Are you kidding me?” You said, voice strained with laughter, “You are Joel? Miller?” You asked, wanting him to say no and be done with it all so badly, but you knew that he wouldn’t say that. It was ingrained in your blood, in your very DNA.

He stared uncomprehendingly at you, as if expecting a spark of recognition to go through him, but it didn’t happen. You saw Tess step cautiously out of the building, apparently prepared to have Joel’s back, no matter what your next move was.

“Who are you?” Joel asked, instead of answering your question, or even making a move towards where you had begun to cry. If only he fucking knew — he had just saved the man who had murdered your mother, who had murdered the woman who was, once upon a time, his wife.

You reached into your pocket, uncaring of the way they both reached for what you assumed were weapons, and pulled out the photo. The moment you unfolded it, revealing him stood next to your mother, it was certain. This man was your father. You held the photo out towards him.

“Joel—” Tess warned, as he stepped forward, but he dismissed her with a look, clearly communicating that he could handle himself. He wasn’t worried, despite the state Colin had been in when they had arrived.

He stared at the photo, brows creasing, face drawing blank, before he reached out and took it. His finger ran across the image of your mother, her bright smile, not a slither of grey to be seen in her hair. “How did you get this?” He asked, clearly in disbelief, denial, maybe.

You pointed to the woman in the picture. “That’s—was my mom.”

It could’ve been funny, months, maybe years ago, the way his eyes flickered between you and the image of her, as if trying to put together how much of the statement was true. You vaguely noticed Tess shift uneasily behind him, before approaching.

“Was?” Joel decided to ask, eventually, instead of whatever else was going through his head. He said nothing to Tess as she took in the photograph he was still holding onto.

“That man, he—he killed her. A few months ago.” You said, smiling, because you couldn’t do anything else. This was all too much. First, your mother is killed. And then when you finally find somewhere potentially safe, you hear about your father. And then before you could do anything about that, you see her killer! And then, before you could finish the job, your biological dad, Joel Miller, saved his life. It wasn’t funny, but you didn’t know how else to react.

You stepped back, sliding down the brick wall behind you until you were sat on the asphalt, and could hang your head between your knees.

“Oh fuck,” Tess said, connecting the dots as she looked between you and Joel rapidly, brows furrowed as she became increasingly concerned. “Don’t tell me that she’s—” She shook her head, turning away from the photo and Joel and you, running a hand through her greasy hair.

Joel was still processing, or at least that’s what it looked like to you. He was staring at the photo, strangely still, seeming blank of any and all emotions.

Tess paced for a moment more, before releasing a heavy breath. She walked past Joel, over to you. “Okay, c’mon.” She said, holding out a hand for you. When you hesitated, she waved her hand and barely refrained from putting it in your face. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of here before Colin goes to FEDRA.” You take her hand, surprised by her strength as she hauls you to your feet in an instant, releasing you immediately. She shook her head again. “Joel, time to go.”

He looked at her, and then towards you, nodding once. You said nothing when he put the picture in his own pocket, instead of handing it back. You hesitantly followed after Tess, wondering what your next move should be, and Joel followed after the two of you, looking stricken.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

None of you had said anything, the entire time Tess had hurried you through borders and to what you assumed was their apartment. It felt like it was miles away from your own.

The wallpaper was yellowed with age, slowly drooping down the walls, peeling away at corners, but it wasn’t the worst state it could’ve been in. The floral pattern didn’t really lend itself to the vibes of the apocalypse, though. Nor did it match either Tess or Joel’s stoic and tough demeanours.

You had no idea what to expect from this.

For as long as you could remember, your mother had told you tales of your father, of the great man he was, the great father he was. But here, on the other side of a worldwide outbreak of infection, you couldn’t quite match the image in front of you to the man in those stories. You had spent so long thinking of him as being dead, unable to do anything to find you or your mother from a grave, that to learn he was alive, and with Tess, it was a shock to your system.

Where was Sarah? Where was the half-sister you had heard so much about from your mother?

Despite Joel matching the name, and the photo that your mother had kept, it just didn’t feel like he was the man you had been imagining as your father. He didn’t seem kind or caring, he didn’t look like he had any love left in him. And maybe, you could have accepted that, if he had other aspects to him, if he hadn’t let your mother’s killer live.

“What happened the day of the outbreak?” You asked, finally, despite the way you ached to run away and cry, for your mother, for yourself, for the father you would never have. Joel just looked at you, rarely blinking as if you were a figment of his imagination, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“No, we are asking you questions.” Tess responded, clearly taking the lead on the situation, despite having no connection to you. It really shouldn’t have been her business. You scoffed. “Where did you come from?” She asked you, unblinking in the face of your disbelief.

You shook your head, “How is that even relevant?”

“Because I said it is.”

“I don’t care what you say. He’s my dad. You’re not my mom.” You replied, roughly, angrily, and you’re only more irritated when Tess doesn’t even react. You become furious when Joel says nothing. “Are you going to say anything?”

Tess went to speak, but you spoke again before she could utter a word.

“Not even about how you let my mother’s killer go? You don’t have anything to say about that?” You questioned, stepping towards him where he had taken a seat on the couch in front of that god-forsaken wallpaper.

There was an awkward lull in the room, each of you waiting for Joel to speak. He seemed unsure if he was going to speak at all, his brows furrowing further, and he pulled the photo out of his pocket to look at once again.

“She died, years ago. My—my kids…” Joel swallowed, and shook his head. He placed the photo down beside him. The photo meant nothing. You could’ve been to his house, and brought it here with you, never having met the woman he hadn’t seen since the day the world fell apart.

“Did you even look for us?” You asked him, head tilting, eyes stinging, wanting desperately for him to say yes, to say he scoured the world but missed you somehow. But looking at him, covered with scars, you could see he was nothing like the man your mother remembered. He didn’t care, not like she thought he had. The man in front of you wasn’t your father — he was a disappointment. He was your father’s shell.

Joel didn’t speak, swallowing harshly, seemingly unable to form any words.

“You’re nothing like she said you were.” You told him quietly, shaking your head, reaching by his side and taking the picture. You wanted to rip his half off, throw it at him, denounce him, tell him he wasn’t your father, that he was never worthy of your mother, but you couldn’t. It was the only thing that you would ever have of the father you should’ve had. The man your mother had loved. She’d already had so much taken from her, you couldn’t, even after her death, take Joel away too. He could live on in the memory. In pictures.

They didn’t say anything when you turned your back on them, shoving the picture in your pocket, and walking out of their door. You slammed it behind you, felt the walls of their apartment tremble with the force, and kept walking.

Part of you, a big part, wished that Joel Miller would have stayed dead. At least that way, you could have kept pretending.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (4)- Good Luck

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 4- 4k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

The deafening silence of your apartment suffocated you as soon as you shut the door, your fingers twitching subconsciously by your side as you felt anxiety and panic clawing its way up your throat, your gaze hurriedly looking around the apartment to find something focus on besides the feelings you’d be bottling up on the way home. It tore you in half to act as though nothing was wrong for the rest of the night, to smile at her in that loving and adoring way knowing it would be the last time as you waved her goodnight, to kiss her a final time, to kiss her goodbye. It broke you, but you refused to acknowledge it, too scared of drowning in your sorrows. You didn’t want to feel this way, you didn’t want to feel the overwhelming sense of pain and loneliness, to listen to your screaming thoughts in the silent room, the claustrophobic doubts clouding your mind at the decision you made. You couldn’t handle having to face everything, to face the fact it was over, the fact that the one person who made you feel free was never yours. She was never yours.

You could feel your chest tightening at the relentless thoughts, your mind begging you to do as you always did and push everything away, to just pretend you were fine and put a smile on your face as if nothing was wrong. You tried to get the corner of your lips to tug up, to put a brave face on as your empty stare took in your apartment, but your lower lip inevitably trembled, struggling to fight the anguish coursing through you. You couldn’t do this.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your crushed form made its way through the hallway to your room, looking longingly at May’s room as you passed it, desperately needing her comfort right now. You needed her to tell you everything was going to be ok, to hug you and soothe your worries but she wasn’t there. You were alone once again. You always ended up alone, it wasn’t fair.

You shut your door a little harder than you intended as you reached your room, your legs giving way as everything crashed down on you at once, a broken sob painfully being torn out of you. Why? Why did it have to end like this? Why did you have to love her? Your hands clutched at your head as you curled up into a small ball, knees pressed against your chest as your back rested against your door, body shaking with cries as the damn that was keeping your emotions in check burst. Your chest felt hollow, an agonising emptiness settling there as your palms pressed against your eyes, trying to stop the floods of tears escaping them whilst the joy and love that was once consumed your heart was replaced by a gnawing ache. Why couldn’t she just love you?

The question tormented your thoughts, your cruel brain dragging you down a despondent and painful trail of thoughts as you tried to control your ragged breathing, the panic and anxiety of feeling so out of control still burdening you.

Why was she so scared? Did she not think you were worth loving? Were you worth loving at all? Was it just casual? Were you an experiment? Why her? Why did you have to love her? Why does it hurt so much? You didn’t even do anything wrong. All you did was fall in love.

You drifted down the spiral of these thoughts, unable to stop yourself as they plagued your mind for what felt like hours, your body exhausted with the overwhelming feeling of heartbreak whilst you wiped your eyes once more carelessly, trying to get a grip of yourself.

The weight in your chest remained constant as you stared off at your bed feeling numb, your body drained as you slumped against the frame of the door, fingers brushing back your locks in a stressed manner as your thoughts continued to race, only pausing when your eyes caught a glimpse of something peeking under your bed, a ripple of unease stirring within you.

Gradually, you pushed yourself off the floor, making your way to your feet as you stood unsteady, limbs feeling numb and heavy as you took a reluctant step closer to the box, another stab of agony directed at your heart as you realised what it was.

Polaroids and various mementos of your secret times together with Wanda filled the small wooden box, leaving you powerless to another onslaught of tears brimming at your eyes as you stared at the item, conflicted on what to do with it. Part of you was tempted to open it, to recall the memories of every single photo you took, to remember the way you felt when she kissed your cheek before snapping a picture, the way your heart fluttered when she would look at you with mirth in her eyes when you would point the camera at her, offering you a loving smile as she waited for the click every single time. The other part of you wanted to throw the items away in anger, to hate her for tainting the memories but you couldn’t. They meant too much to you, she still meant too much to you.

A deep sigh left you as you used your foot to push it out of sight, hiding it further under your bed like a dirty secret because that’s what it was, that’s what you were. You could feel the irritation bubbling inside you at the thought, your jaw clenching in annoyance as you stared at where the box was, another wave of hurt washing through you as more memories and thoughts tormented you, reminding you of the gaping wound in your chest.

Why weren’t you enough?

***

The corridors of the college campus were filled with students smiling and grinning at one another, cheers erupting from the back of people's throats as everyone exited their last exam, finally free for the summer. Your expression contrasted the elated people pushing past you in a rush to leave, your defeated gaze searching for a certain locker as you planned to talk to Wanda today, to confess everything before telling her you were leaving, having accepted MI 13’s offer in England, needing a change of scenery. It was all too suffocating here, the reminder of her, what happened to your parents, you needed a change, no matter how hard it would be to leave everyone behind.

You eventually made your way to her locker, looking around to see if people would notice as you slipped the post it note through the small slits, asking her to meet you at the carpark behind your work. You lingered at the metal cupboards, a sense of dread filling you at what would inevitably happen later, the idea of heartbreak and tears causing a wave of nausea to take over you, your gaze lifting from the structure to stop your thoughts drifting down that path but accidentally making contact with her enchanting green as they gazed at you from across the hall, time seeming to slow down around you.

The people around you faded away as you felt that familiar tug on your heart, your smile not reaching your ears as you offered her one last fake one, desperately trying your best to keep it together whilst the corner of her lips tugged up at your actions, excitement evident on her face as she was eager to see you tonight.

Wanda had known you had been busy recently wanting to study for your exams, the two of you not meeting up for a while, but she couldn't wait to spend the summer with you, to laugh all night long and be herself with you. Her heart longed to be with you again like that one, tender night, the memory of that kiss haunting her mind in all the right ways, her body aching for you in such an affectionate way again. She wanted to feel loved by you, to be seen and truly appreciated in private before letting reality and the expectations of her drown her again. She needed the escape you offered her.

The brunette took a step forwards, hoping to talk to you but the sight of a familiar blonde stopped her, Vision’s smile soft as he distracted her, the sight of the two of them cracking your heart once more. You kept your face stoic as he brushed back a strand of her hair, her lips stretching into a loving smile as she peered up at him, kissing his lips briefly in an attempt to keep up the appearance with him, to you, the sight an interaction between a couple of lovers. A wave of bitterness washed through you at the fact he could be with her, he could show his love for her in public, your mind swiftly pushing the thoughts away as you knew there was no use in going down that spiral again, simply trying to stop the pain radiating in your chest by turning around, refusing to look anymore. You couldn’t watch her live her life a lie.

Unbeknown to you, when she could, her eyes flickered away from his piercing blue and the blush painting his cheeks, her smile soft as she forced herself to enjoy his company as he wrapped an arm around her waist, talking nonsense to her as her green frantically searched for you. She had to try and hide the way her brows furrowed at your tense posture as you pushed past people to leave, a glimmer of disappointment appearing in her eyes as she had hoped to talk to you and congratulate you on finishing your exams. The expression swiftly faded when he asked her something, her answer pleasing to him as she tried to keep the appearance up, ignoring the ache in her chest at the way you walked away, leaving her feeling alone.

***

Exhaling a final puff of smoke, you savoured the last of your cigarette before dropping it to the floor, using the heel of your boot to crush it into the ground when the sound of those familiar footsteps grew closer, your heart pounding anxiously in your chest, dreading what was about to happen. Your mind was tormented by the anticipation of what was about to occur, images in your head flashing by at the different ways this could end, unsure of what the best scenario would be. Would you want her to shout at you, to scream at you for breaking it off? To have her tell you she hated you so it would make things feel a little easier? Or would you rather her stay quiet and suffer in silence? Letting you watch helplessly as you carved a hole in her heart, unable to comfort her as you were the reason she was hurting. God, you didn’t want to hurt her.

A deflated sigh escaped as you couldn’t decide what reaction would be the best, but you knew deep down a part of you hoped she would do neither and ask you to stay, that she’d confess her feelings to you and learn that she didn’t have to be ashamed of you, that being with you wasn’t abnormal or something that made her a ‘freak’. You only ever wished she could accept herself.

Before your mind could repeat any more thoughts like a broken record, you watched in the corner of your eyes as she approached you, her smile practically reaching her ears making the chain on your heart tug forcefully. She looked so happy, you didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Hey,” she murmured out softly, her tone conveying her excitement as she leaned against your truck, biting her lower lip in that adorable manner as she tried to contain her enthusiasm, the expression dropping at the conflicted expression engraved on your face. “What’s wrong?” Her tone was tender as her mesmerising green peered up at you, every swirl of green containing care as she gauged your reaction to her words, the way pain flashed in your eyes before your mouth opened and closed, hesitating on your words.

At the glimmer of distress in your eyes, Wanda couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease crawl down her spine, a lump forming in her throat at the way you avoided her gaze, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to compose yourself, trying to stop the doubts in your mind as you had to do this. You couldn’t let this drag on anymore, you couldn’t.

“Wanda, I…” you trail off, building the courage to say what you felt but struggling to put it into words, a gnawing thought at the back of your mind begging you to tell her nothing was wrong, to carry on pretending.

Her intense green observed you with concern and apprehension at your vulnerable state, her heart rate increasing with every passing second as you tried to find the right words, the excitement and joy swiftly draining from her face as you finally continued, the words slicing straight through her chest.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you manage out, not hiding the pain in your voice as you spoke in such a raw tone, the worry that was brewing within her now flooding through her veins, her body almost flinching away from you at your words, moving to stand opposite you with anguish clear in her expressive gaze.

“What?” She whispered out, refusing to truly comprehend your words as you looked at her, your usually bright and playful eyes staring back at her despondently, acting as though the world around you had lost all its colour.

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be a dirty secret, I want to call it off,” your words cut deep and you know they do, your face showing your sorrow for hurting her as she lets out a breathless laugh, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling at the pain radiating in her chest, her heart bleeding anguish into her veins.

Her head turns away from you, desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, the sight of you only further cracking her heart as her eyes glossed over completely, the tears flowing down her cheeks as she couldn’t stop herself, it hurt too much.

“Why?” she croaks out, hesitantly letting her gaze meet yours, an overwhelming feeling of despair drowning her as she looks into your equally broken eyes.

“You know why,” you murmur out, trying to keep your voice soft as you still wanted to comfort her, to soothe her pain. You were desperate to pull her into your arms, to hold her close and let her face seek safety at the crook of your neck, to press your lips to the top of her head and whisper tender words to her but you couldn’t. You were the reason she was crying and it tore you apart. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

“I…” Wanda couldn’t find the words to argue back, to say she didn’t know because she did. She knew that you had changed after you lied to her, she knew that you loved her but she refused to accept it. You couldn’t truly love her, it was wrong. She couldn’t let herself be loved by you, by a woman. She refused to make this real, she was unable to let the bubble the two of you created burst and let reality crash down on her. Why couldn’t you just continue to pretend? She wanted everything to go back to the way it was, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to lose you, but she couldn’t admit the truth.

“I love you Wanda, I always have,” you whisper, your words laced with honesty and all the emotions you felt towards her, your tone so soft and tender that it causes a stray tear to slip from her eyes at how she wished she could let herself be loved by you, that she wasn’t taught this was shameful all her life. The hope and desire was brutally clawed away as soon as it came, the brunette powerless to the merciless grip her traditional mindset had on her, teachings from her childhood ringing around in her head as she forced herself to stop the feeling.

“No, you can’t, you can’t love me,” she chokes out, struggling to stop the lump in her throat from affecting her voice, desperate to sound composed and not as though anxiety and insecurities gnawed away at her sanity. “It’s wrong,” she sighs out, nausea bubbling inside her at the way your face drops at her words, the way you can tell she’s trying her best to use her denial to shield her pain.

“It’s not wrong,” you sigh out, taking a step closer to her, hands naturally reaching out to hold hers, letting your thumb brush over the back of hers tenderly before she pulls away from you, using her hands to wipe away the tears lingering on her cheeks. “It’s not, I promise you it’s not,” your words only further torment her, the ache in her chest constant as she wants to believe you, she really does but she can't. She won’t. “I know it’s hard to accept that you’re-” You try, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t,” she grits out, tone raising, a sudden harshness lacing her words as you furrow your brows at her, shocked at the disgust corrupting her green. “Don’t say it, don't make me say it, I’m not like that,” she mutters, pain underlying her words as your face grows sympathetic, unsure of how to help her. You just wanted her to stop running away from the feeling, to keep making excuses or giving stupid reasons as to why she couldn’t accept herself. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Why couldn’t she see that?

“Wanda-”

“No,” she doesn’t even let you disagree, leaving no room for argument as you sigh, lowering your gaze to the floor, trying to collect your thoughts. You knew she wasn’t going to admit to herself she was into women, and you weren’t going to force her to accept herself, but you needed to know if she ever loved you back or if this was really just casual. It couldn’t have been, couldit?

“I won’t make you say it,” you murmur out, keeping your gaze locked on hers, losing yourself in her green whilst you build the courage to ask her. You were scared of the answer, none of the possibilities your mind could come up with were good, but you had to know. Your mind would drive you insane if you didn’t. “But Wanda, I need to know, did you ever feel the same?” Your voice wavers as you ask her, a cold fear underlying your words as it spreads throughout your body, anxious thoughts trapping your mind as you were terrified to know how she felt.

Hesitation is evident on her face as she looks at you, clearly conflicted on what to say as you longingly look at her, heart pounding wildly against your chest as you wait for her to speak, the silence deafening as her mouth opens and closes, lost for words.

“Please be honest,” you murmur out in a pleading tone, not hiding the fear that consumed your body, “Did you love me?”

“No,” she croaks out, meeting your gaze before looking away, nausea making her head spin as she utters the word, her trembling hands moving up to her face to stop the sob that wanted to force its way out of her.

The pain that you had felt previously felt like a mere prick to your heart compared to the sheer agony that ripped its way through your body, her words leaving a scar on your heart that you’d forever carry with you. It hurt, fuck, it hurt so much, but not because she said she didn’t love you, no, her words destroyed you because she looked you right in the eyes and lied to your face. You could see it in the green you loved so much, you’d spent enough time with her to know how to read her, to tell when she was telling you the truth and she wasn’t.

A scoff left you at what she managed out, the sound turning into a breathless laugh to stop yourself from breaking down, your hands roughly wiping your cheeks as you avoided her gaze, an onslaught of anger gripping your heart. You wanted to scream at her with everything you could, to confront her and call her out but you didn’t have it in you. You wanted to hate her, to resent her and tell her here how you never wanted to see her again, but the words refused to leave your mouth. Despite everything, you didn’t want her to hate you. You didn’t want to lash out at her and make her think of you like that. You weren’t like that.

Pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing deeply, you tried your best to compose yourself before saying anything, your gaze catching a glimpse of her distraught green and only reminding you of the pain that slashed through you moments ago, your eyes squeezing shut in hopes that the pain would simply vanish and let you collect your thoughts.

“Good luck, Wanda,” you manage out of a few more deep breaths, your tone attempting to be soft but still containing a hint of sarcasm and irritation as you look at her, gaze softening as you take in her watery green.

Wanda’s brows furrowed at your words, at the tenderness she could sense in your voice, her mind lost to a sea of confusion. Why weren’t you shouting at her? Why didn’t you hate her? You should hate her. Her mind begged you to stop being kind to her now, your always caring self emerging when it shouldn’t. She didn’t want you to be loving and caring now, she needed you to hate her to make things easier, she needed you to stop.

“I hope he makes you happy, I really do,” you continue, each word pushing the knife further and further into her heart as well as yours, the fact that there was a hint of truth in your words twisting the blade as you partly meant them. You only ever wanted her to be happy, even if it meant she was with someone else.

“Y/n…” She tries but nothing follows the whisper of your name, your trembling lips pulling up into a soft smile as best you could.

“Don’t,” you murmur softly, stopping her from trying to prevent you from saying what you needed to. “I just hope you know you can’t run away from…this forever,” you whisper, stepping closer to her as you build up the courage to say goodbye to her, your hand hesitantly moving to cup her cheek, the brunette naturally leaning into your touch, trying to savour the little comfort it offered.

When your eyes met, a whirlwind of emotions crashed through you both as you got lost in each other's eyes, trying to prolong the impending farewell as you didn’t want to lose one another. You tried to memorise each swirl of green that you fell for, her eyes searching yours to let the comfort you provided engrave itself in her mind, knowing she’d need an escape from reality.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, a kiss goodbye as you lingered there, a shaky breath falling from your lips before you whisper one last thing to her.

“I’m sorry for loving you,” you apologise softly, never having wanted to hurt her with your feelings, your words the tipping point for her as the sob finally leaves her lips, her hands reaching out for your body subconsciously, needing your comfort but stopping as you pull away from her, her body paralyzed by the heartbreak consuming her. “Goodbye Wanda,” your voice is barely above a whisper as the words escape you, your eyes refusing to look at her, not needing a painful memory to haunt your mind as you step away from her body.

Wanda could only watch through her blurred vision as you walked away from her, the ache in her chest increasing with every step you took, amplifying the loneliness she felt as you left her alone to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. 

[juniperdugong]

hello! can i req for a short bf!shua fic wherein yn has been sick for days and shua takes care of her and it kinda overwhelms her bec it was her first time being taken care of like that by other person (she’s used to being alone & shua just love her so much huhu) thank you! 🤍

Here Now - Joshua Hong

WC: 1k || Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?) || Lover boy Joshua Hong is in the house!!

A/N: I'm not gonna tell y'all what to do but...you maybe totally should envision this to "Lean On Me" (aka my favoritest SVT song ever)

It's been days since you've gotten up from the comfy nest you created for yourself on your bed. Wrapped up in blankets and snuggling pillows like a newborn monkey.

You hadn't gotten sick like this in forever, it's very possible that you haven't been this sick in your entire life actually. You've been calling out of work for days and any movements made past the kitchen or the bathroom were futile attempts that would leave you hurling.

So all in all, you're extremely lucky to have Joshua by your side. Bringing you meals, making you meals, making sure you're taking medicine, he even took a few days off to make sure that if you needed him he was there.

Which, if you were being honest, made you feel even more sick.

It's not like the attention wasn't appreciated...no! You loved the way that Shua loved. You really truly did! It's rare that fights ever caused wedges between you because he was always so good with communication. He was always keen on making sure that you knew that he was yours and only yours, calling every single night on tour and planning dates like it was his job. Shua was - just as he's boasted about all these years - a gentleman.

But you'd be lying if you didn't acknowledge that this didn't feel right, that him taking care of you felt comfortable. It was anything but.

You can take care of yourself and you have for many many years. So when Shua started to bring over food, made sure to set alarms to remind you to take medicine, and spend nights at your place - it's fair to say that you felt suffocated? Or it's more like you didn't want to take up his time.

Joshua is busy. You've always known him to be extremely hard-working, not only in your relationship but also in his professional life. And it's not like you ever minded, in fact, you enjoy being alone. It's just how life has turned out for you thus far, in ways, being alone is much more comfortable than being surrounded by others constantly.

When you'd gotten together it was pretty out of the ordinary. It's not like you're polar opposites but Shua is so outgoing, friendly, and sociable - it astonished you how kind he was to everyone. To be able to call him your boyfriend seems a bit like a privilege. And it only made it that much harder to accept this kind of care.

"You don't have to do all this Shua."

"Hmm? What do you mean?" He stares at you from the edge of the best where he's sitting, the thermometer still in his hand as he had just checked your temperature.

"I mean take time off and stuff. You don't have to do this for me."

Utterly confused he keeps quiet, placing the thermometer on the nightstand. He's always been good about letting other people have the space to speak.

"I know you're trying to be nice...but I can do stuff myself. You don't have to dote on me." He's letting you finish your speech but as you look into his eyes you can see he's readying himself to refute. "I know you're busy-"

"No." His tone is so stern that it scares you.

"Josh-" You nervously rub your hands together but Shua is quick to hold your palms in his.

"I'm not busy, y/n. I'm not busy when it comes to you."

"That's the thing Shua! You really shouldn't feel like you need to do any of this just because I'm your partner or out of any obligations...." He sees the guilty look on your face as you stare down at your intertwined fingers.

He scoffs, "Yeah and you shouldn't feel like you're a burden to me because I'm your partner." He rolls his eyes with a smile but you're completely blown away by the statement. "Seriously...you act like we're not gonna recite the words "through sickness and health" one day."

"Yeah but you have so much going on- I've taken care of myself for forever so it's really okay for me to continue to do so. I haven't had the kind of support you do, y'know? I've grown accustomed to being alone and doing things alone..." You take a big breath and let it out, letting the weight glide off your shoulders. "I just don't want to be another thing you think you have to worry about."

He's looking at you with the biggest stupidest doe eyes, taking in every single word you say. It only makes your heart pound more and not in any sort of lovesick manner, but in embarrassment of the situation.

"You're so...frustrating sometimes y/n."

Dumbfounded at the jab your face screws up in disbelief of his words...it feels like your world could come crashing down right now. Maybe you just shouldn't have said anything-

"I know you've done things all on your own. You're literally one of the strongest people I know. It's one of my favorite qualities about you. You're independent, reliable, and so- Just- Ugh!" He facepalms. "I know all of this about you - you're so perfect and it breaks my heart that you would ever think you could be any sort of problem for me. I'm here for you. Yes, you've learned to go through it all alone and take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean that you have to do that...especially not anymore."

You don't know if it would be more appropriate to cry or smile in this situation so you resolve to just holding him as close as you can. You can feel as tears begin to gather but you hold yourself together -although, now you know that he wouldn't mind if you let it all go.

"It worries me so much that you feel like you can't lean on me." He rests in the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin.

"Just rest now, babe. Look your temp is already a lot better than yesterday." He separates from you and holds the thermometer up as proof, "Rest. I'm here now and I refuse to let you go through life alone!" That goofy smile that had you fallen head over heels for adorns his face.

*RING RING RING* "Medicine alarm..." He presses a kiss to your cheek. Yeah, you're really lucky to have Joshua.

A/N: Crying, I love him, Mom!! Also, I'm so sorry this took so much longer to write than I expected. I was out of ideasssss and dialogue was so rough to come up with for this one. (lowkey might wake up tmrw and feel so shit abt the dialogue ;-;) But thank you for requesting @honglynights !! I hope you enjoy! Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, a man he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the person he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my desert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew it wasn't that. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place deserving of her, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it perfectly preserved.

It had been more of a final gift to Addie than a show of good will between the courts. Adelaide had been a foundling on the border of Day and Night. Helion took her in as his ward and she grew up with access to the best education and scholarly texts Prythian could offer. Rhysand later made her head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. She spent more of her life in Night than Day, but she never went so long without seeing the man who gave her all she had.

She used to tell Azriel she would take him on vacation to Day to meet Helion. He of course had met the man before but they had been the Spymaster of Night and High Lord of Day, Addie wanted them to meet as 'two of the people she loved more than anyone'.

They never did get that vacation.

And as Azriel looked down at her, Helion's gift to her felt like a cruel punishment to him.

6 months later, she was still as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her, but she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed their by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader feel the distance

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

i casted tom blyth as y/n’s costar in this for no reason other than the fact that i love him lol

When y/n’s agent called her to tell her she got the role she had been stressing over for the past few weeks, she was over the moon and had immediately got to packing. Ever since she had started acting, she had always wanted to do a romantic comedy, and when the opportunity showed up on her radar, she knew she had to take it. Prior to the project, her “romantic” escapades on the stage and screen were fairly limited, and now that she was at a secure spot in her own romantic life, she felt like it was an idea she could finally explore.

It had been a while since she had been on set, taking a break for her and Drew’s wedding as well as to support Drew after the premiere of Queer, and she desperately yearned to be back. Don’t get her wrong, she adored spending time with Drew and her friends and family, but the need to be on set or on stage was entwined so deeply in her bones she felt like she needed it to live.

Now nearly a month into shooting her project, her glamorous and idealistic vision of being back on set had started to dwindle. Of course she loved when the cameras were on, when she could feel herself relax into her element, but as the days progressed reality began to sit in. She missed Charleston. She missed her home… she missed Drew. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was making her job harder.

“You good, y/n?” y/n’s costar, Tom, said, shaking her out of the daze she hadn’t realized she had sunken into. They were resting between takes, the two of them getting their hair and makeup touched up.

“Yeah, sorry.” Y/n said, straightening her posture and flashing Tom a grin. Tom was sweet, a true gentleman, and someone that she came to consider a friend over the course of filming.

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed a bit… off lately, no offense.” Tom looked at y/n, his face full of concern. She looked back at him for a second and, before she could stop herself, her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Shit, could we have a second, please?” Tom asked the hair and makeup team, who nodded before leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what my problem is I—” Y/n began to ramble, dabbing at her eyes with a nearby tissue, praying she hadn’t already ruined the makeup that had just been fixed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Tom said softly, handing y/n another tissue. She took it graciously, sniffling quietly.

“I just— god, this is so embarrassing!” Y/n chuckled nervously, glaring around at the numerous people who littered the set. Numerous people, all of which had people and places they missed too, but none of which were pathetically crying like herself.

“I can start crying too, if that would help.” Tom grinned, causing y/n to laugh lightly.

“No, I just… I really miss Drew, a lot more than I was expecting, I guess.” Y/n exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands along her pants.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Tom asked, resting his chin in hand.

“This morning.” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic she sounded, acting as if she hadn’t talked to him in years when in reality it had only been a matter of hours.

“Have you asked him to come to set?” Tom asked.

“No, I… I don’t want to be a burden. He’s just so busy right now.” Y/n said with a sigh.

“I promise you, he won’t think that.” Tom said, looking past y/n for a moment before standing from his chair and offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her out of her chair as they made their way back towards the stage where they were shooting. 

“I know, but…” Y/n trailed off as a girl came over, straightening out her shirt and dabbing a bit of powder under her eyes.

“He won’t.” Tom said firmly, patting her on her shoulder lightly before moving to get into position for their next scene. Y/n smiled softly, her racing mind starting to ease as the cameras began to focus on the two of them.

After finishing their morning shoot, taking a break in her trailer, and returning for a night shoot, y/n was drained. As she trudged back to her temporary apartment, y/n sorted through her keys until she found the right one. With a yawn, y/n unlocked the door and flicked on the lights before tossing her keys on the table in the entryway. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the navy suitcase near the couch… or the person sitting next to it.

“Surprise.” Drew said, a huge grin on his face.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, rushing over to him before throwing herself on top of the boy. She kissed him slowly, relishing in the intoxicating feeling she had gone so long without.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked exasperatedly once they finally pulled apart. They had discussed him coming to visit halfway through filming, but that was still a few weeks away.

“Tom called me.” Drew said, tucking a piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear as he gazed at her softly.

“No he didn’t, oh my god—” Y/n buried her face into Drew’s shirt, hoping to hide her embarrassment. Had he told him about how she was pathetically groveling all week? Crying on set?

“Hey, hey.” Drew lifted y/n gently, sitting her in his lap so she could face him. He ran his thumb softly along her warm cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. I–” Drew laughed, “I was already planning to visit you next week when Tom called me.”

“Drew I’m sorry I—” Y/n began, but was cut off when Drew ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

“I just wish you would’ve told me.” Drew said gently, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I didn’t want to be a burden, Drew.” Y/n whispered. Drew sighed, dropping his hand to grab onto her own.

“Darling, I would gladly drop everything if you needed me. You never have to worry about that.” Drew said, soothing her hand. She looked up at him, the soft smile on his face and the sincere tone of his voice, and knew that he was being genuine. All of that worrying about how he would react melted away, replaced with the comfort Drew’s presence gave.

“Thank you, Drew. I’m sorry for not talking to you.” Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Drew. He hugged her tighter, tucking his face into her neck. His warm breath and stubble tickled, causing her to giggle in his grasp.

“What’s so funny?” Drew said teasingly, rubbing his chin against her jawline, causing her to laugh harder and fall onto her back. Drew propped himself onto his forearms, grinning down at her. She reached up, pushing his messy hair back.

“I love you, Drew.” Y/n smiled, looking up at Drew’s wide smile and crinkled, blue eyes. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the soft taste of mint lingering on his tongue.

“I love you.” He whispered, running his hands along her side as he pressed a line of kisses along her jaw. Here, wrapped in Drew’s arms, she was home.

[geotjwrs]

Hey can you do Wednesday x Male reader Angst. Where Wednesday was too focused on the Hyde case and she neglected reader and their relationship and said reader was a burden and was too clingy every time he gave her unconditional love. The night she kissed Tyler she told him those things and he saw Wednesday kiss Tyler while Wednesday never even hugged reader? And so at the end she feels really bad because she saw he saw. And so she wanted to talk but he just stays quiet? Please and thank you

no one's home

Pairings ; Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The late evening at Nevermore was unusually quiet. The usual whispers of the wind through the trees had stilled, leaving an eerie calm in the air. You stood alone in the courtyard, the dim glow of the moon casting long shadows on the stone floor. Every step you took echoed in the empty space as if mocking your loneliness.

For weeks, you had been trying to reach her—Wednesday. But she had become more and more distant, her attention consumed by the ongoing investigation into the Hyde case. You understood her need for focus, her obsession with solving mysteries, but you couldn't help feeling like you were slipping further and further away from her world.

You leaned against a pillar, running a hand through your hair as you replayed the events of the past few days. Every time you tried to offer her support, love, anything to remind her you were still there for her, she brushed you off. At first, it was subtle—short responses, curt nods. But lately, it had become more than that. She wasn’t just distant; she was cold, indifferent.

You couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in her life, like no matter how much you tried to help her, you were just in the way.

Tonight had been your breaking point.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening between the two of you. You thought you’d have a chance to talk, to remind her that you were still there, that you were still someone she could lean on. But when you arrived at her room, the look on her face had already told you everything.

Wednesday’s gaze had been harder than usual, her expression devoid of even the faintest flicker of emotion. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she entered her room, her voice as cold as the night air.

“I just wanted to see you. I feel like we haven’t—”

“You feel?” she interrupted, her words sharp. “Y/N, I don’t have time for your feelings. I don’t have time for any of this.”

Your heart sank, but you tried to stay calm. “Wednesday, I’m just trying to be here for you. I know this case is important, but I—”

“Important?” She laughed, a humorless sound that made your chest tighten. “Y/N, you don’t understand anything. This case could mean life or death for people at Nevermore, and all you ever do is cling to me like some helpless child. You’re suffocating me.”

The words stung, but you didn’t want to believe them. “I’m just trying to love you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is that really such a burden?”

“A burden,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing. “Yes. You are a burden. I don’t need your love. I don’t need anything from you. I need space.”

The air between you felt heavy, filled with words that cut deeper than any knife. You stood there, trying to make sense of what was happening. You had always known Wednesday wasn’t the warmest person, but you had never imagined she would say something so hurtful, so cruel.

Before you could find the words to respond, she had already turned on her heel, heading toward the door. “I have more important things to do,” she said without looking back. “If you can’t handle that, then maybe you should leave.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you alone in the cold emptiness of her room. For a moment, all you could do was stare at the space where she had been, your mind racing, heart aching. You had always known Wednesday could be difficult, but this? This was something else entirely.

You followed her, driven by something you couldn’t explain. Maybe you still believed there was a chance to fix things. Maybe you just wanted answers. But as you wandered through the shadows of Nevermore, you stumbled upon a scene that shattered whatever hope you had left.

In the dim light of the woods, Wednesday stood close to Tyler. Too close. Your heart dropped as you watched them, your breath catching in your throat. And then, before you could even process what was happening, she leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but it was enough. Your mind went blank, your emotions swirling into a storm of pain, anger, and disbelief. She had never even hugged you, and now, she was kissing someone else. The girl you had poured your heart into, who had brushed aside every gesture of love you offered, was showing more affection to Tyler than she had ever shown you.

You wanted to scream, to confront her, to demand why. But instead, you just stood there, frozen, watching as everything you thought you had crumbled before your eyes.

When Wednesday pulled away from the kiss, her eyes caught yours through the darkness. For a moment, you thought you saw something shift in her expression—shock, maybe even regret. But it was too late.

You turned and walked away, your chest tight with heartbreak, your mind numb. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break down. Not here. Not now.

As you made your way back to Nevermore, the weight of her words and actions pressed down on you, suffocating you with every step. You wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out, but all you could do was walk, your body moving on autopilot as your heart shattered.

The next day, Wednesday found you in the library. You were sitting alone, staring blankly at the pages of a book you hadn’t even opened. You didn’t look up when she approached, but you could feel her presence lingering just behind you.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” she said quietly.

You didn’t respond, your hands gripping the edges of the book as if it could somehow anchor you in place.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she continued, her voice unusually soft. “About you being a burden.”

Still, you said nothing. Your heart ached, and you could feel the storm of emotions threatening to rise to the surface, but you forced them down. She didn’t deserve to see you like this.

Wednesday sat down across from you, her dark eyes searching your face for any sign that you might acknowledge her. “I—” She paused, something uncharacteristically hesitant about her. “I made a mistake.”

For a moment, you almost believed her. Almost. But then the memory of her kissing Tyler flashed through your mind, and the pain surged back with a vengeance.

“You saw, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

You finally looked up, meeting her gaze. Her expression was conflicted, torn between the cold, calculating girl you knew and something deeper, something more vulnerable. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore.

“You kissed him,” you said, your voice flat.

She didn’t deny it. “It was a mistake.”

“Was it?” you asked, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “You’ve never even touched me like that. Not once. But him? You didn’t hesitate.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Wednesday replied, her voice steady but softer than you’d ever heard it before. “I was consumed by the case. By everything.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “That’s your excuse? You were too focused on the case? That’s why you kissed him?”

Her silence told you everything. She didn’t have a real answer. Maybe she was sorry, maybe she wasn’t, but it didn’t change what had happened. It didn’t change the way she had made you feel—like you were nothing. Like you were disposable.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she admitted after a long pause.

You stood up, unable to bear sitting there any longer. “I don’t think there’s anything you can say, Wednesday.”

As you walked away, you could feel her eyes on you, but she didn’t call after you. Maybe she knew there was no point. Maybe she realized too late that some things couldn’t be undone.

For the next few days, you kept your distance. Every time you saw her in the hallways of Nevermore, you turned away, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and sadness. You had given her everything—your love, your loyalty, your trust—and she had thrown it all away.

But things didn’t end there. Not for Wednesday.

One night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, you heard a knock at your door. You knew who it was before you even opened it.

She stood there, her arms crossed, looking as composed as ever, but you could see the tension in her posture, the faint flicker of regret in her eyes.

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly.

You hesitated but stepped aside, letting her in. She walked to the center of the room, standing there like she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

After a long moment of silence, she spoke. “I can’t undo what I did. I know that.”

You stayed quiet, unsure where she was going with this.

“But I also know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. Part of you wanted to believe her, wanted to forgive her and move on. But the other part—the part that had been broken by her actions—couldn’t forget.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, as if she had expected that. “I understand. But I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for a second chance.”

You looked at her, at the girl who had broken your heart but who was now standing in front of you, raw and unguarded in a way you had never seen before. And for the first time, you saw something in her eyes that made you pause—something real.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, not ready to give her an answer just yet.

And with that, she nodded, quietly leaving your room, leaving you to sit in the quiet darkness, wondering if second chances were worth the risk.

[risustravelogue]

Gifts of A Kind

Summary:

His love for you is the gift he's offering.

Featuring:

Zhongli, Alhaitham, Wriothesley

Tags:

Emotional hurt/comfort, love confessions, self-indulgent, reader has mental health issues and huge insecurity about her worthiness of being loved. Fem!Reader (referred to as a woman) who is having her birthday!

Note:

Me: Happy birthday to me! 🥳 Also me: *writes an emotional hurt/comfort piece with my favorites to cry* Haha. Also, I'm resting from the 1-week EBG grind, so have this for now. As always, enjoy~

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

It’s another busy day at Bubu Pharmacy.

Sorting the medicinal ingredients in one of the back rooms, you were humming to yourself when a familiar baritone voice came from behind you.

“Happy birthday.”

You turn around to find your crush, the handsome consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, walking towards you with a huge bouquet of silk flowers, dotted with the biggest glaze lilies you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Zhongli! You remembered!” you squeal.

When the man you fancy remembers your birthday, you say thanks to Celestia above. Especially when he’s actually Liyue’s beloved archon.

—This is fine. He can never be mine, but I can have my small joys, can’t I?

“I have a gift for you,” he says with a playful lilt to his voice as he hands over the bouquet to you.

“You mean this pretty thing?”

He smiles. “No. It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”

You obey. Your heart thumps with anticipation. Maybe you’re finally getting that cute hairclip you’ve been eyeing for a while? Or maybe…

Your thoughts dissolve into thin air when you feel a soft warmth pressing against your lips and the scent of his cologne entering your sense of smell. Your eyes flutter open to find your vision filled with him.

But it’s not joy you feel inside your chest—it’s dread.

You struggle in protest, only for him to snake his left arm around you and press his lips harder against yours. He takes the bouquet away from your hands and sets it on the table behind you while nipping at your lower lip, as if asking for permission. You put your hands on his chest and push him away, breathless.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask.

Zhongli blinks, surprised.

“I thought you wanted it. Was I wrong?”

You shake your head and offer him a frown. “Why?”

“Is that not obvious? I love you.”

—What?

“What did you just say?”

He smiles as he repeats, “I love you.”

“... Heh,” you chuckle, and it turns into a full-blown laughter. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t.”

He only stares into your eyes with those golden pupils of his, his soft expression still like the mountains. You shake your head, dispersing the thoughts that maybe, just maybe—

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No one would, especially not you.”

You feel his left hand clench at the small of your back as his expression hardens. “Why not?” he asks.

A bitter smile grows on your lips. “You know why. I’m—you know. I’ll only be a burden for you. For anyone.”

“I can bear it, and you know that.”

“But I’m—I’m defective and you know it!” you shout, pushing him away to no avail. His eyes widen, his heart taken aback at how much you must have hurt. You feel your chest clench as you mutter, “I am not the right person for you.”

Zhongli sighs and caresses your cheek, so gently as if you are the most fragile piece of porcelain he has ever held.

“Listen. No one is perfect. Not even me. And you… you awaken something I have never felt in the thousands of years of my life. And I want—”

His lips quirk to form a painful smile.

“I want to keep you by my side, for as long as I am allowed.”

You chuckle bitterly as you slap his hand away.

“Stop it. I don’t want this. I don’t—you’re mistaken. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

Tears roll down your cheek as your fingers clench on the fabric of his suit.

“Please… you can’t.”

A heavy silence hangs between you. His fingers find their way under your chin, tilting your face up towards him.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You shut your eyes in defiance, and you can feel tears dripping down your chin.

“You are the kindest woman I know, and have a strength beyond what even most gods can comprehend. And please believe me when I say I have never met anyone like you in my life,” he says, his voice gentle like you’ve never heard before. You open your eyes to find his gaze looking softly into yours.

“I love you. I will be yours if you want me to.”

He smiles, and you can feel your heart melt.

“Let me be your strength, your rock, your home. Will my word as the God of Contracts do?”

Expressive is one of the last attributes one would assign to the Scribe of the Akademiya, who also happens to be your longtime crush.

So you were surprised to find a saccharine sweet love letter in a pink envelope containing the words “I,” “love,” and “you”—in that order, next to each other—in his distinctly neat handwriting arriving at your doorstep on your birthday.

It’s not funny anymore, you think, deciding to confront him for playing with your feelings. You stroll to his office and bang at the door harshly, your face hot with anger.

“Come in,” the room’s owner says. You barge in, slamming the letter he sent you onto his desk.

“Out of all of your jokes, I rate this shit minus a hundred out of ten,” you say, voice shaking.

The silver-haired man tilts his head, seemingly confused. “What joke are you talking about?”

“This,” you smack the tip of your index finger onto the pink envelope, the force nearly ripping the paper in two. “This fucking letter, Alhaitham.”

“Oh, that,” he says with a smile. “I assure you, it’s not a joke.”

“Stop playing around!” you shout. “You said you love me, you liar.”

“Careful, I did say that, but my patience still has an end,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. He sighs. “Why would you say I’m lying?”

You scoff. “Because there’s no way, right? You’re perfect, men and women alike want your hand in romance, and you said you love me?”

You laugh derisively as you try to ignore the sharp pain penetrating your chest.

“You can’t love me. You can’t. I’m just a pathetic woman fumbling through life, unlike you. You’re fit as a fiddle while I have to take medication every single night, else my sanity would crumble like dust. I’m a burden to everyone I’ve ever cared about. So please, just stop.”

You feel your lips tremble as you grit your teeth in pain. Alhaitham frowns.

“Yes, I know about all that. I still love you, though.”

“Shut up, Haitham.” You lower your head and turn away, stifling back a sob. “I don’t deserve you. Nobody wants me, and that should include you.”

He slams his fists against his desk as he stands up, making you jump in surprise at his loss of composure. He saunters over around the desk and stops in front of you, his much taller figure looming over your head. His hands find their way to squeeze your shoulders.

“Who hurt you?” he demands, his palms trembling in quiet rage. “I swear I’ll hunt them down and make them suffer for making you think so lowly about yourself.”

“No one,” you lie. The pain in your chest pulses. “I’m just stating the truth.”

“It’s not the truth,” he says, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. “One as strong as you shouldn’t have such a low opinion of themselves.”

He lowers his head to meet you in a slow kiss. A tear rolls down your cheek as you relish the feel of his soft lips against yours.

“There,” he mumbles after pulling back. “Now do you believe me?”

“I don’t want to,” you finally admit, tears now streaming down your face. “I can’t.”

“Then—give me the chance to prove my love for you. Please,” he says while pulling you close. You shut your eyes, taking in his presence like a thirsty deer greedily drinking from the water’s surface. The words he whispers next have a certain promise woven into them.

“I am going to make you the happiest person in the universe.”

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide looks a bit different than usual today. You are certain of that.

Whenever he catches sight of you, he’ll either hum tunes to himself, smile like an idiot, or walk towards you with a skip in his step that others barely miss.

Too bad you’re only his personal mechanic. Pointing his strange behavior out is way above your pay grade.

… Which is what you’ve been saying to yourself, but your feelings, your amour for him screams and rebels inside your chest, threatening to spill into the flirty sentence of “Wow, someone sure is happy to see me.” You bite on the insides of your cheeks to hold it back. After all, he knows that you’re literally sick in the head, and he wouldn’t want someone like you by his side.

He would never, ever fall in love with you.

But, if that is true… what is that beautiful bouquet of Rainbow Roses doing in his hands, then?

“Happy birthday, wonderful woman,” he greets, a grin plastered across his face. “Please accept this duke’s gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” you ask, folding your hand over your chest where your heart is—the organ working super hard to pump more blood to your already-pink cheeks.

“Yes. Gratitude for all the work you’ve done,” he says in a sing-song voice.

You sigh, trying to rein in the butterflies in your stomach. “Wriothesley, I’m not an idiot. I know what Rainbow Roses mean.”

His smile turns melancholic.

“So what do you say?”

You harden your expression, trying to keep your tone as flat as possible.

“I’m sorry… I can’t.”

An uncomfortable silence goes on for a few seconds.

“Sure you can. Why not? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“No, I can’t. Now please stop this nonsense, Boss.”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back.

“Go away,” you say, turning away from him while stifling back a sob. “I can’t have you.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You can. I want you to have me.”

You shake your head and shrug him off, tears starting to roll down your cheeks as the pain in your chest grows stronger.

“I can’t! I won’t burden you with… with me, of all things!”

“Stop saying that!”

Before you can react, he turns you around and pulls you into him, wrapping you with his strong arms like he’s protecting you from the cold, cruel world.

“Please stop saying that. You’re not a burden. You are never a burden.”

You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. His shushes drown your grunts of struggle.

“Let me go. Please, I can’t want this—I can’t want you,” you finally plead, but he only pulls you closer, trapping your hands between your chest and his. You limp, pathetic sobs filling the air as you finally surrender.

“You want to know a secret?” he asks. He does not wait for your answer.

“I think you’re perfect. The way you pursue growth, the way you love. You are the most precious thing I have in my life,” he says, his voice half a whisper. “I am eternally thankful for you. Thank you for coming into my life. I’m at my best when I’m with you, and I don’t only mean because you can fix my gauntlets.”

His embrace tightens around you. You can feel his growing stubble rub against your temple.

“And if I don’t at least try being with you, I’m sure I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

He sighs as he presses his lips to the crown of your head, the warmth sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I want to be your home. I want… no, I need you by my side,” he continues.

Your grip on his vest tightens as you feel him bury his face into your hair.

“I love you. I love you so much, my heart hurts every moment I remember that you’re not mine,” he whispers. He pulls back, only to press his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss the next moment.

“Please… be mine. I will never let you down. That’s my vow to you, and I intend to keep it for the rest of my life.”

He looks into your eyes, his gaze as gentle as a beautiful snowflake. You tiptoe a bit to meet him in another kiss. He chuckles as he returns the favor with passion.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

© @risustravelogue 2024 • FEEDING THIS WORK TO GENERATIVE AIs IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. • do not repost. • reblogs are precious. • feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. 💖

[samkerrworshipper]

hard times | awfc x reader

arsenal reader struggles with PTSD and new year’s eve is a particular struggle… but the arsenal girlies are there for her even if she doesn’t know she needs them

warnings: PTSD, anxiety, mentions of violence, mentions of guns, anxiety attacks, mentions of childhood trauma

You don’t even notice you’re shivering and tearing up under your duvet.

New Year's Eve for most people is a night of celebration, a night of partying, a night of celebrations. For you, not so much.

New year's eve ranks pretty high up on your least favourite days of the year.

Instead of being fun and full of celebrations it was a night of terror and fear.

That’s how you’d gotten under your duvet, the covers of your bed providing a very small shield from the outside world.

It wasn’t a good fix to stop the current downpour of sound around you, you’d tried it all, airpods, earplugs, music, none of it worked.

So you’d settled for clenching your palms down onto your ears, it wasn’t providing any reprieve from the noise cascading around you, but for whatever reason it felt necessary.

This wasn’t even the worst of it, you knew it was only so long until the fireworks started, and as soon as that happened it was almost a guarantee that you would be thrown into a whole different level of stress.

It had been this way since you were a kid, new years eve was a nuisance, a figment of your worst nightmares.

You wished you could go out and celebrate, that you could be normal and be happy.

But ever since your childhood, since it all happened, loud noises and bright flashing lights have always been a big struggle for you.

So, every year, you go through the same routine of hiding under your covers until it’s all over. Normally, the loud noises coming from London strike up a pretty serious anxiety attack, so you don’t bother with hurting your friends with your presence, knowing that all you will be is a burden for them on a night that is supposed to be fun.

It’s fine, you’re used to it, this year though it’s a little bit harder.

With your transfer to Arsenal in the previous January trade period you had quickly found a new family amongst the Gooners.

It was so hard for you to decline the invite to the celebrations for the evening, especially considering that almost every other holiday over the year had been spent with one or a couple of your teammates.

That was the hard part of being the only person left in your family, it was the reason for your stupid fear.

It all simmered down to one stupid night that wrecked your whole life.

Just as you had begun to become completely absorbed with the thoughts in the back of your mind, you were taken out of your trance by a quiet voice and the mattress you were sitting on flexing downwards.

“Hiya honey, you wanna come out for me?”

It’s Beth’s voice, sweet, kind, lovely Beth who definitely should not be in your apartment right now.

It makes you wonder if you are potentially dreaming, sometimes when you get really anxious delirium is a side effect.

“Beth?”

You reach down to pinch your thigh, hard, and it hurts, enough for you to be sure that you aren’t dreaming,

“Yeah hon, I’m right here.”

Her voice is enough for you to pull the covers over your head, the duvet falling into your criss crossed lap.

Beth is perched on the corner of your bed, a smile mixed with concern and care reflecting back towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your words are murmured, and spoken downwards towards your lap, because you can’t quite find it in you to look at your older teammate.

“It’s new years, silly, we couldn’t leave you out of the celebrations, the girls that are in town are in the kitchen.”

It’s said so nonchalantly, like this is some organised plan that has been set in stone for weeks, even though this is the first you’re hearing of it.

Suddenly, a firecracker or something goes off somewhere in the distance and your body is jolting on the bed, fresh tears accumulating in the corners of your eyes as your whole face pinches shut whilst the waves of memories wash over your body.

“I thought you guys said you were going to South Bank to do the fireworks and celebrations.”

South Bank isn’t far from your apartment, a couple of blocks south, unfortunately for you, most definitely close enough for the fireworks to be seen and heard.

“Who needs fireworks? We’d rather hang out here with you.”

It makes your jaw clench and your eyebrows furrow, they’ve cancelled their plans to come to your apartment and you aren’t completely sure why.

“Beth, why are you here?”

It’s blunt, but with everything happening and your body in survival mode you don’t have time to beat around the bush, especially with the ticking time bomb which is leading to midnight.

“Less told us that you really struggle with new years, so we’re here for you.”

You know that all of the girls on the team, whether they mention it or not, know about your past, about what happened when you were a child, what led to you moving in with Alessia when you were 14.

Unfortunately for you, she’s spending her break with her parents in New York, so your normal emotional support for nights like these was unable to make it here tonight.

Something doesn’t feel the same about having Beth, and whoever else she’d managed to congregate being here with you, especially when you were significantly vulnerable.

“Beth, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to worry you guys, head down to South Bank, just leave me be. Tonight’s pretty hard for me and I don’t feel like doing much.”

Beth scoots her body up closer to yours, close enough that she can lift her hand up and set it down on your thigh, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way you slightly flinch away from her, the jumpiness running rampant in your body due to the anxiety.

“We’re not going anywhere, we’ve got you, let us take care of you yeah, you don’t have to do anything, at all, just sit on the couch and relax.”

You want to fall directly into Beth, let her give you a big hug and never let go, but there is still a part of you trying to obtain your self dignity.

“Beth, you don’t understand, tonight's really hard for me, and I don’t want you guys to have to deal with it, it’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

Beth’s hand moves from your thigh, upwards until it’s gently sitting on your jaw, angling your face upwards so you are looking at her.

“Let us be here for you, between myself, Vivi, Leah, Lia, Kim, Laura, Jen, Lotte I’m sure we can all figure out some way to make tonight a little bit easier for you. You don’t have to explain anything, you don’t have to talk about it, we’re just here to show you some love and help you however you need, celebrations be damned.”

It’s hard to refuse when Beth’s kind, concerned and caring eyes are reaching deep into your soul. Tonight is hard, for you it’s like walking up mount everest, and it’s not exactly like you want to break down in front of your teammates but Beth seems pretty persistent about the fact she isn’t leaving.

“After the break in, after my parents and brother were killed, any loud noises resembling guns make me have anxiety attacks, it’s why I don’t like new years.”

Beth just nods and smiles, accepting the information but deciding to let you do the explaining instead of asking questions.

“That’s understandable, anyone in your position would feel the same, I’m sure it must be pretty tough, especially considering that you are still young.”

You bit down on your tongue, nodding to Beth, it is really fucking hard, especially considering that you don’t have anyone to talk about it with, because how could anybody understand.

“It’s why I freaked out a few months ago when you guys were popping balloons after Leah’s birthday party, I can’t help it, it just sometimes comes over me and I can’t control it.”

Beth nods immediately, feeling the guilt roll into her stomach at the memory of her and Katie popping all of the balloons, Beth now recollecting how you left with Alessia almost as soon as it happened.

“Y’know after my mom died it took months for me to be able to go anywhere near a hospital, Viv had to drag me to the doctors for my yearly check up. It’s funny what grief does to us. You want to know what works best for me?”

Beth is trying to find common ground, praying that it’ll work and exceptionally glad when you give her a little nod with your chin.

“I try to distract myself, whether it’s getting Vivi to talk to me or playing a game or watching the telly, helps take my mind off things, how about we try that and see if it’ll work with you, yeah?”

The idea makes you feel a little bit funny, but you are brutally aware of the fact that Beth is trying really hard right now to help you and you really want to be good for her and show her that you can do that.

“Okay, but I need it to be quiet, please.”

Beth just smiles and nods, her layed back demeanour shining through as she stood up from the bed, extending her hand to you.

Your hand is shaking furiously, but you manage to extend it out towards her, letting her own hand steady your as she pulls you up off the bed and gently tugs you towards the door of your bedroom.

To your surprise, when you exit the room the kitchen and loungeroom of your apartment are fairly quiet.

Lia, Kim and Viv are busy in your kitchen, pouring and distributing drinks and plates of pizza. Leah, Laura and Lotte are seated on your couch, a board game of sorts set out on the table, Jen is also joined in on the game, except she’s sitting on the floor directly in front of the table.

Viv, Kim and Lia all send a big smile your way as you slowly enter the room, it’s a spectacle to you, watching the group happily enjoying themselves in your apartment on a night where they could be doing far more than just lazing around.

“Do you want to go sit down on the couch, I know for a fact Leah will be cheating, you could go keep an eye on her, or stay up here in the kitchen with us, it’s up to you.”

The couch sounded nice, and you were aware of the fact that your body was quite tired and worn down from all the stress of the night.

So you cautiously stepped over to the couch, as soon as Leah saw you walking towards her she opened her arms up big and wide for you.

You didn’t second guess it, practically throwing yourself into Leah comfy and warm embrace, her body acting as a cushion to you.

The joint pressure and warmth from the hug did wonders at lifting some of the pressure off of your chest.

“How ya feeling?”

Leah’s voice is soft, whispered directly in your ear so that nobody else hears it besides you.

“I’ve been better, but having you guys here is nice, you don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

Leah just smiled, taking a break from the monopoly game they were playing to look at you.

“It’s nothing, we’re here for you whenever you need us, just trying to make the night easier for you however we can.”

You nod gently, Leah’s arm wrapping around your torso to give you a big hug and essentially bond you to her side.

“The fireworks are the worst for me.”

Leah nods, her eyes are so understanding, there isn’t any form of humour or disgust in them, just pure interest.

“Just watch the game yeah, don’t think about the fireworks, I know it’s hard, but just try. We could put on a show for you, how about the new episode of Love Island?”

It’s a offer that you can’t decline, so Leah gets Jen to chuck her the remote, turning on the tv and flicking it directly onto your favourite show.

You relax into Leah, your body falling limp against her and using her as a pillow whilst you intently watch the tv.

It’s all going fine, or as fine as it can be until you can distantly hear a countdown coming from somewhere outside your apartment.

Almost immediately it sets off alarms inside your body, your legs and torso jolting up from the couch.

Just as you are about to rush off, most likely back under your covers or into your bathroom, Leah’s arms grab a tight hold of you, bringing you flush against her body. In a matter of seconds, Viv, Beth and Kim are all surrounding you, somehow sheltering you from the noise outside.

You feel like a feral dog, thrashing against Leah, trying to get away from her, from your teammates, from the world.

As soon as the noises hit your ears though, you stop moving, both of your palms crushing down against your ears to try and drown out the cracking and popping sounds booming from outside your window.

Leah holds you tight to her chest, even as you begin to sob and the panic begins to overtake your body, every time it happens you feel like you are going to die, like this time it’ll be the last and inevitably you know that your wrong, that unfortunately you will live to see out the next year, but it doesn’t make the whole process easy.

Suddenly your brain is crowded with thoughts, memories, sounds.

The sound of your front door being broken down, nobody hearing but yourself, giving you the opportunity to push yourself out of bed and into one of the cupboards in your wardrobe.

Then the sound of heavy feet, doors creaking, and heavy, thunderous, cacophonous gun shots.

No matter how many times you relive it, no matter how many years go by that sound will never disappear from your mind, it’s unforgettable and haunts every single one of your nightmares.

It’s all consuming, until somebody is taking a hold of your face, and staring at you directly in your eyes.

“Y/n, listen to me, you’re safe, we’re all here for you, we’re in your apartment, safe inside, nobody is here to hurt you or anybody else, you’re at home and it’s safe here.”

Kim’s captain's voice is both soothing and terrifying, the Scottish players' words are strong and coated in directness.

Once she notices that you are hearing her she continues.

“We’re here for you, we’re safe, breathe for me honey, deep breaths, you’re here, not out there, don’t worry about any of that, just look at me and breathe.”

You nod at Kim, even as the tears are streaming down your face and you are struggling to breathe, you listen to her.

“Good job, keep breathing, remember where you are, we’re all safe in here with you, nothing or nobody is going to hurt you, I swear.”

Kim’s words do wonders to help you, and with her assistance, as well as Leah’s strong hold, Laura’s hands gently massaging your scalp, Viv’s strong fingers drawing patterns all over your arms, Lotte gently rubbing the tensed up parts of your calves, Beth holding the parts of you Leah can’t and Lia and Jen both flanking kim, looking at you with the same care and concern as she is looking at you with.

It’s a team effort, but you feel completely enveloped by your teammates love and care as you come down from the panic.

“Doing so well for us y/n, it’s all over now, you;re safe, we’ve got you, we’re not going anywhere.”

You look out to the window, temporarily removing your eyes from Kim’s and realising that your captain is in fact correct, all the noises, lights and pain has stopped, the world is quiet and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

Slowly, as you become more aware of the world and your surroundings, one by one each girl gently removes themselves from you, until you’re left with just Leah, Beth and Viv, the three stragglers who are tasked with getting some food and water into you before sending you off the bed.

It’s a easy enough job, you’re spent and pliant, so Viv force feeds to a slice of pizza whilst Beth forces you to choke down some kind of electrolyte drink.

Once the two are done doting, they both leave you with a kiss on the forehead and gentle words whispered into your ear about how proud they are of you.

Leah is the one tasked with getting you into bed, and she does just that, getting you tucked properly on the covers before giving you a goodnight forehead kiss.

It feels weird watching her walk towards the door, like your being deserted, and you’ve been needy enough as it is tonight but you can’t help but reach out to Leah.

“Stay till I fall asleep, if it’s no trouble?”

Leah just nods and smiles like you’re asking her for a piece of gum, the blonde moving onto the empty side of your bed and leaving her hand flat against your back.

“You’re no trouble at all honey, we’ve got you, any time but especially on these nights.”