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e-pluribus-unum-e · 6 months ago

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Haunted (1/?)

A/N#1: This is a Mattheo Riddle x OC fanfic, I did this just because I struggle with writing "Y/N" over and over again. I feel like an actual name for the reader helps you connect better, and I already struggle with being a personable writer. Please forgive me. The OC is named Veralynn Post, she goes by Vera. Idk her middle name yet so don't ask. She has long curly blonde hair, it reaches to her mid to lower back, it's also very poofy (think Hermione Granger). She has amber eyes, almost like whiskey and honey. She's 5'2 and a Hufflepuff. And she's from the US of A 🗽. It probably doesn't make sense why she's in a wizarding school in England but bare with me. Also I'll probably have smut in this at some point but that won't be until they're well into their 7th year.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mattheo 🥵, my terrible writing, eventual smut but not until much later in the series

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!OC

Summary: Vera's best friend finds herself in a whirlwind romance with none other than Theodore Nott. Vera reflects on her own love, how ever unrequited it is, and wonders when she'll finally confess to the man that holds her heart in his hands. 6.0k+ words

A/N#2: Dear Reader, Hello! This is the start of my very first attempt at a series LOL. I've written for my own enjoyment for years, but never on a blog or anything even similar to Tumblr. Last night at 2 AM I was hit with inspiration after hearing a series of songs play one after the other that reminded me so much of our baby boy Matty <3. So I have a timeline worked out and a list of songs I want to incorporate, one song per chapter, but that list is constantly changing because I'm trying to find the best ones possible to make this work. Also I'm starting them off in 6th year because yes, while they are minors, I need the time afforded to me by starting them off that young. No smut, NO SMUT, will happen before they're both well established 18 year olds in year 7. Please let me know how I can improve with my writing, it means a lot. It is my absolute pleasure to present you with the very first chapter in my Haunted series, When Emma Falls in Love. ---Sincerely, Me

When Emma Falls in Love

When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same

Emma Hemlock is my best friend. I met her at Platform 9¾ on our first day at Hogwarts, and ever since then, we've been joined at the hip. With her dazzling blue eyes and her straight brown hair, her tan complexion, and her warm smile, she drew the boys' attention immediately. They would scramble to write her love letters, asking her on dates and whether or not she'd give them a chance. And she never said yes. Until, now.

Theodore Nott had been asking her out since 3rd year, always being met with a resounding "NO." He even asked me for advice!-- "C'mon Veralynn! What's her favorite flowers? Does she like butter beer? When does she-" "PISS OFF THEO"-- (spoiler alert: we didn't get along). But it seems he finally 'wore her down.'

That's such a terrible expression. At least, that's what Emma says. She explained that 'no, he didn't wear me down, I just finally had the courage to say yes.' Or something like that. In all honesty, her hesitation to say yes in the first place made sense. Theo had gained the reputation of a ladies' man, him and the rest of his crew. Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Montague, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo.

A man who could simultaneously get my heart racing out of fear and attraction. Fear of him, fear of the attraction, attraction because of the fear, however, you want to put it I don't care. But we'll get back to him later. Right now, it's all about Emma and her love life.

Emma finally said yes to Theo's persistent nagging, making him quite literally the happiest man in all of Hogwarts. No seriously, he ran into the Great Hall shouting "SHE SAID YES! WE'RE GETTING MARRI- OW, DAMN IT VERA!" (I may have thrown a dinner plate at his head).

So here I am. Waiting, sitting on the couch in our dorm, my arms wrapped around a pillow as I sat on my legs, watching the door in anticipation. They started dating in the summer. Emma's family had decided to spend their two months break on vacation in Italy. They ran into the Nott's while they were there. I have a theory that Theo caught wind of where the Hemlock family would be that June, and he begged his parents to let him go spend the summer in their family villa.

All that being said, they had had a whirlwind romance that didn't end when the warmer months came to a close. It's only the second week of our 6th year and they've gone on a total of four dates. It's almost hilarious how utterly whipped Theo is for her. That boy will never be the same.

Creeeeak. The door was pushed open—interrupting my thoughts—and Emma slipped into the room. She locked the door behind herself, her face looking... oh that's weird. She paced across the floor, closing the blinds, effectively putting an end to the bright sun I was basking in. I had expected her to come in, huffing and annoyed with the latest story on Theo's escapades. But this time, no, this time was different. Her eyes held a different story. "Vera..." Her grip on the window loosened as she turned towards me. Her lip trembling, and her eyes squinting. Suddenly her face split into the widest grin she's ever given me. "Vera-" "I know." We smiled at each other, one sincere and one feigned.

"I need- I need to send an owl to my parents. I need to ask my mom- oh shit this has never happened to me before. Vera, what do I do? What is this?" She started rambling, all the while her smile remained and she ran over to her desk. She pulled out her stationary and began her letter to her mother. "Ughhh I shouldn't even be writing to her about this, it's going to end in disaster anyway!"

What made me chuckle was the way she said it. The words were foreboding, but her smile never slipped. She didn't really expect this to end in a 'disaster.' "Write your letter, Em. Tell your Momma you're falling in love." I encourage softly from where I remain seated, nuzzling my face further into the pillow between my arms. Emma nods at me, eyes crinkling yet again as she leans back over her letter.

Okay, sure, maybe I don't sound as excited as I should for my closest friend. That's not the case, I am excited for her! But now's the time when we finally get to talk about Mattheo.

Chocolate eyes, curls the color of rich dark dirt, dimples when he smiles, and the scent of cigarettes and rain that clings to him no matter where he's been. To be frank, the man is liquid fire. And everyone else in Hogwarts noticed that too. And he took advantage of that fact. He had a new girl on his arm almost every day, never coming up empty in the 'love department.' But it was never love. Everyone understood he was never and would never be interested in anything serious. The problem with this?

Well that requires a bit of explanation.

I met him the same day I met Emma. Before her, even. I had gotten lost in the muggle train station trying to find the right platform, getting bumped into by grown strangers who didn't seem to notice the lost little girl tripping under their feet. I was born and raised in America until being invited to Hogwarts, and unfortunately, my parents couldn't afford to come with me to this wild train station. So I was all alone, trying desperately to find my way to Platform 9¾.

~flashback to that day~

I huff, dragging my luggage behind me as I try my best to push through the crowd. I couldn't see many children, which gave me my first clue that I wasn't in the right place. It was mostly muggle adults going to and fro, not glancing down to notice the small poofy-haired kid all alone. My thoughts were interrupted as someone slammed into me, "OW" I cried as the luggage slipped from my fingers. It hit the pavement floor below my feet, buckles popping open as the contents spill out. I shake my head in disbelief, looking up to see who knocked into me. All I saw was the back of a grown man walking away from me, seemingly the culprit, and also seemingly ignoring the fact that he just ruined an 11-year-old's day. "Hey wanker, watch where you're going!" I jump, startled at the grumbling voice ringing in my ear.

That wasn't my voice. No, that was behind me. Turning around, I gaze upon—for the very first time—the boy who would turn my whole world upside down. He was wearing jeans, and an almost too-big-for-him flannel, his curls falling effortlessly over his forehead as he glared past me at the man who just Kool-Aided into my back.

His eyes flickered from over my shoulder to my belongings on the ground. Wordlessly, he crouched down and started folding up the clothes and slipping them back into my suitcase. "Oh- no no that's okay you don't have to- I mean- agh this is such a mess." I scramble, trying to stop him from helping any further. 'This is so embarrassing.'

I squat down next to him, working side by side to get everything packed away. His hands stopped moving at the sound of my own voice, his head turning toward me as he took in my appearance for the first time. "You're American?" "Uh-" I blush, distracted by his pretty frown. "-yeah." I finally answer, a bit dazedly. "Cool." He responded. We just sat there, chocolate eyes looking into amber, until the distant sound of a train's horn broke us out of our trance. "Riddle. Mattheo Riddle. Where are you headed?" The boy asked, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

"Oh! I'm Veralynn Post, um, you can call me Vera. Everyone does." His eyebrow raised at that. "E-Everyone back in my- HEY!" I gasp as he starts laughing. "I was just teasing you Anna, no need to fret. But seriously where are you headed?" He tried to quiet his chuckling as he lifts my bag from the ground, carrying it along with his (and refusing to let me take it off his hands).

I took out the letter in my pocket, looking at the information it contained. "Platform 9¾." He seemed to ponder that for a minute. "I don't think that exists..." My eyes widen. How could I be so stupid? He's a normal not-wizardy-boy and here I am, spilling all of Hogwarts beans to the first person who would listen. Maybe if I play it off like I'm a dumb tourist he'll just forget all about it. Wait- is he laughing? OH THIS BOY- "Man it's easy to trick you. Lighten up, Vera."

My blush deepens, but not out of embarrassment. No, I was mad. "That's not funny Mattheo, I'm genuinely lost and alone and you're laughing at me." He seemed to soften at that, his laughter quieting down. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you." "I'm not laughing." "Hmm... touché." The way he said it made me want to punch him in the face.

Mattheo seemed to notice the anger in my eyes as he straightened up. "All jokes aside, I'm headed there too. We can walk together?" He offered, looking at me apologetically. "...fine, but no more teasing." "That's too high a price." "Fine," another huff from me, "you can tease if you want to but at least make it obvious you're not being serious."

His grin grew. "You're funny, Vera."

~end of flashback~

I met Emma when we got onto the train, and ever since then, I've had an unrequited crush and a best friend. Emma was everything I could have asked for; a dear friend, a confidant, and a sister. And I will always remember that day in fondness for when I met her, but alongside the sweet memories of a friendship comes the tainted recollection of a lost love.

Mattheo and I have remained friendly up to this very moment, as I watch Emma fall in love with his best friend, Theodore. But after I was sorted into Hufflepuff and he into Slytherin, we went our separate ways. Never being close but always painfully aware whenever he walked into the room. In his defense, it's not like he ignored me or anything. We were amicable with one another, just not in each other's core friend group.

The sad truth is, is that girls tripped over themselves because the kind boy I met seven years ago grew into Adonis reincarnate. They notice him because he's effortlessly good-looking and always seems to get great grades, even when he's constantly skipping class to smoke or make out with some girl in the broom closet.

His chiseled abs, strong jawline, and generally Greek-god-like physique (thank you Quidditch) made him a heart throb.

However, the female population of Hogwarts treat him like a piece of meat. Even though they're aware that he’ll cast them aside after just one night of being in his embrace, not only being aware but wanting it because no one really wanted to love him. Him. I've had to watch as everyone acted as if he really was just a carnal beautiful body and not a soul.

Sure, his core friend group (Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Enzo, and Draco) didn't care about his looks. From what I've observed, they genuinely care about him. But after years of almost the entirety of Hogwarts not caring, I've noticed how it's worn on him.

And it's not just Hogwarts and their obsessive drooling over him, it's his home life. His father in Azkaban, his mother dead, his brother ignoring his existence. He had an abusive childhood and the roughest of up bringings. The very same women who will beg him for one night in his bed, turn around to gossip about how he's the next Voldemort.

So very few people cared about him.

And I've noticed how it's worn on him.

I've noticed lots of things.

I've noticed how when he walks through the food line, he never takes the last of anything, always leaving it for the person behind him. How he hangs behind after dinner to pick up the plates and trays our fellow students were too lazy to clean up themselves. I've noticed that whenever a girl in our year comes into class with bruises on her body, her boyfriend is in the infirmary the next day and there are cuts on Mattheo's knuckles. How he slips treats to the magical creatures when everyone's too busy listening to Hagrid's lecture to even notice the exchange. Everyone is too busy to notice, except for me.

I've spent my entire Hogwarts career falling in love with a boy, who grew into a man, all while I remained unnoticed.

I hang on to every word I hear him mutter to Theo, to every nod he sends my way as he walks past, and the rare time he asks me for my notes after he misses class.

So here we are, back in my dorm, watching my best friend's love life blossom before my eyes. Yes, I'm happy for her. But yes, I'm also, admittedly and ashamedly, jealous.

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her

I tried to listen as Cedric droned on, talking excitedly about this new book or muggle movie or something. To be honest, I've missed about 90% of what he's said. I slept roughly two hours last night, staying up to be Emma's sounding board. 'She really has fallen hard for this guy.' I think to myself as I glance across the Great Hall. Theo was sitting at his usual table, with the usual people. One of those people is Mattheo...

Mattheo laughed at something Enzo said, leaning across the table to grab food off of Pansy's plate (much to Pansy's protest). 'I hope he has a good day.' I sigh, looking back down into my cup. I had my hands wrapped firmly around the mug, sipping the warm black nectar. Emma still teased me after all these years, calling me a "Yank" for preferring just plain old coffee over tea.

A masculine rumble broke me out of my thoughts as my eyes flickered up again to see what was happening. Oh. Theo was here. And he was yapping, per usual. What, when did he get here?

The man in question was leaning his hand onto the table to my right, looking down at Emma who was in between us. "Hey, honey..." He muttered, their voices getting collectively quieter as they got wrapped up in each other's presence.

I rolled my eyes, sitting up slightly to grab Cedric. He leaned forward, but not willingly. My hands firmly grasped his collar to pull him halfway across the table. "AH- Vera let go-" "Not until you get me a new dorm and a new table. I can't handle it anymore, DO YOU HEAR ME? TOO MUCH THEO! TOO MUCH!" I shouted, sleep deprivation getting to me.

Theo stopped whatever poem or other crap he was reciting for my friend, looking up just to glare at me. "Oh stop being the anti-Cupid just because you're jealous." I turn my head, poor Cedric still being subject to my grasp, just to glare right back at Theo.

"Jealous? What the hell would I be jealous of? The fact that y'all effortlessly behave as if you got SLEEP LAST NIGHT?" "No, jealous that no one got you flowers." "Flowers? What flow- awwww Emma those are so pretty!" I push Cedric back down, turning fully in my seat to see the pretty roses in her hands.

She smiled up at me, nodding. "Someone told him they were my favorite." Her lovesick grin made me crack a genuine smirk. I sigh, feigning disappointment as I respond, "Too bad they lied."

"WHAT?" Theo exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. "Veralynn Post quit lying to my boyfriend!" Emma cried out as I just laughed harder. "Sorry, sorry, I had to."

I straightened up my posture, leaning back over my food, finishing the rest of my coffee as the lovebirds said their goodbyes. We both watched as Theo made his way back to his side of the Hall, sliding in to sit next to Mattheo.

Mattheo.

He was looking right at me. I smiled hesitantly at him, but he just looked back at his own friends, conversation continuing like it never stopped.

Oh.

My heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. This happened sometimes. I'd think he was encouraging me, I'd make an attempt to reach out, he'd go back to acting like I barely existed. My thoughts wandered to Emma. Emma. She seemed to be a natural at taming the 'bad boys.'

She had broken down the walls of her man, her man who was so misunderstood and underappreciated. Theo wanted to be good for her. It was like she was a drug he couldn't walk away from, a book he just couldn't put down.

My final thought echoed in my head like a constant ringing in between my ears as my eyes felt glued to the man who held my heart. And I knew—I knew that while I was happy to be myself—that sometimes on the coldest of nights and loneliest of days, when the absence of his love and affection rang the loudest... sometimes I wish I was her.

Well, she's so New York when she's in L.A. She won't lose herself in love the way that I did 'Cause she'll call you out, she'll put you in your place When Emma falls in love, I'm learning

It was only the start of our 6th year, but every morning felt as if I was waking up on death row. Like my days were numbered, and with each passing minute, the executioner took another step closer. I've always been able to comfort myself by saying, 'It's okay that I can't hold him in my arms. At least I can be near him.'

Being in his presence alone has always been enough for me. His aura, his being, his soul being in the same room as mine has been enough for me to be content. But with graduation comes the end of it all. The end of us. The end of him. You might be going, 'Ah but graduation is just next year! You have time!'

Time? Time? It's taken me six years to get to this point and you think one more will be the difference between my anguish and my happiness? The time needed to cause a change? When him and I, two separate souls, intwine to become just us? No. There's never enough time and I'm too much of a coward to try it now, with another year in Hogwarts, where I would have to suffer not only 6th but 7th year in embarrassment and rejection. Because Mattheo Riddle doesn't want an us.

'Who am I even kidding? There is no us, there never will be. I sound like a fucking stalker.' I scoff, aggressively zipping up my bag. Potions had ended a while ago but apparently, I spaced out, only coming to when Professor Snape closed a desk draw rather loudly. It was only me and three other students in the room with him, taking our time to pack up and clean our workstations.

"-Vera. VERA." My eyes snapped up, noticing Emma waving her hand in my face. I grimaced, pushing her hand away. "How long...?" "A few seconds." She answered, frowning. I squirmed under her scrutinizing overlook. Her eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions; confusion, doubt, concern, etc. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She frowned deeper at that.

Chuckling nervously I hiked my bag over my shoulder, leading us into the hallway as we began our trek to the courtyard. Once a week we always pack lunch ahead of time, and then walk down to the Black Lake to have a picnic together. It was the highlight of my day and the pick-me-up I've really needed this past week. 'I just hope we can get there before we run into Theo.'

Theo's been really good for her, and he's been really good to her. Honestly, never thought I'd say it, but he's become like a brother to me. I usually look forward to our playful banter and then watching him whine and pout and tell Emma she hasn't spent enough time with him, but something's been off with him lately.

His behavior is as if he's walking on eggshells around me. His glances were full of concern. His questions, 'How are you?', 'Do you need to talk?', etc., etc. have been way more persistent. Nothing about me has changed, at least I don't think it has. I have no clue how he's somehow gotten the skill to look right through my mask.

I risk a glance over at Emma, eyes narrowing. She was chewing her lip, her fingers tap tap tapping. It was a trait she picked up from me. She used to complain about how fidgety I was, constantly having to at least drum my fingers or shake my knee to be able to focus. Something that became more incessant as I would get nervous or uncomfortable.

And then I noticed her doing the same thing whenever she got... nervous. 'You must have rubbed off on me,' she'd say. Well, it's a two-way road, Emma. Because your annoyingly empathetic self rubbed off on me too.

I left her with a habit she hated, and she left me with the ability to read her emotions like a book. It had it's benefits. We push through the bustling crowd, making our way to the ‘glass room,’ as we so eloquently coined it in our 1st year. It was a room with an entire wall made up of windows and an almost simple back-patio-like door that worked as one of the many exits that led to the courtyard. It was our favorite, just because of how homey it felt.

I twist the doorknob, pulling the door open for her before following her outside. There was a small friendly match of quidditch being played on one side of the courtyard, some kids were studying, and there was just a general bustle of life out there. Both from the students and from nature. As we walked down the steps and into the grass, further past everyone, weaving through all the hubbub and finally getting away from all the prying ears, I turned toward Emma. We continued down to the lake but now we finally had privacy.

“Emma, what’s been up with you? You and Theo, now that I mention it. It’s felt as if you’ve both been… watching me. It’s kinda weird.” I nervously laugh, running a hand through my blonde curls to push them out of my face. Our black robes with yellow accents swished with our movement, though Emma’s posture noticeably stiffened when I spoke up.

She slowed to a stop, hand reaching out to grab my own and making me halt right alongside her. “Em?-” “I know.” “Know what?” “I know you’re in love with him.” Time seemed to slow. My heart quickened and my hands started tap tap tapping. I tilted my head slightly, looking at her closer. I never told anyone, I never spoke a word about my feelings.

Which means she noticed, she caught on, and she figured it out. She’s the only one who could’ve figured it out. Theo’s too dense to have- she told him. “Love who?” I spat out, anger simmering just below the surface. She caught on to that too. “Matt-” I yank my hand from hers, stomping away from her and towards the water. “Vera! I’m not judging you- stop just stop running away!” “Running?!” I whip back around. “You told Theo!”

Her eyes looked wet, her lip trembling as she took in my ruffled appearance. “I didn’t.” I scoffed. “I didn’t.” She repeated with a firmer tone this time. “He knows you enough to know something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what is wrong.” “My- my love isn’t wrong. It’s not the end of the world for someone to be loved by me.” I shutter out running a hand down my face as I try not to spiral.

I know she didn’t mean it like that, I know she didn’t mean to have that heart wrenching look of pity in her eyes. But I could just hear what she was thinking, my insecurities clanging like a gong in between my ears, ‘Oh Vera, how could you ever think he’d love you back?’

We stood in a field. Surrounded by tall grass and beautiful wildflowers, a lake just a few feet to our right, a tree about two yards to the left of us, and the sounds of our school echoing down the hill and filling the uncomfortable silence that fell upon us.

“Vera…” My friend’s words cut through that very silence, voice sincere. “...you love with a love so loyal, that you are content with standing on the sidelines for years. You love, with a love so fierce, that you will defend and fight and protect even when the object of your desire doesn’t take notice. You think I haven't noticed your absolute adoration toward the boy? I picked up on it back in 2nd year. You can’t keep secrets from me, you know that.” We both laughed through tears at that one.

I looked at her in shock, not knowing what to say.

But she quickly spoke up before I could even fully process what she said before, “You love with a love anyone would be blessed to receive. But the fact of the matter is, you absolutely suck when it comes to confessions.”

My eyes narrowed at that sudden change in tone, getting whiplash from how fast she went from serious to downright insulting. It would be funny if the situation wasn't so emotional.

“You watch him from afar, you love him at a distance, but graduation is closer than it's ever been and you’re letting him slip through your fingers. I’ve watched you lose yourself in this love for long enough. It’s time, Vera. Tell him or move on but I won’t let you throw away our last years at Hogwarts just because you were trying to hold on to something you’ve never had.” I flinched at that, looking back toward the ground.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying…” Evidently, Emma crossed the distance separating us, and I felt her hands comfortingly squeezing my shoulders. “I’m saying… it’s time you come clean. It’s time you tell Mattheo you’re in love with him.”

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

So I told him I love him.

KIDDING. After Emma surprise attacked me in that field, I ran back to our dorm and hid until noon the next day. She gave me her notes and we caught up on all the classes I missed, and then we talked for hours about him. And I told her everything.

Everything I felt toward him, everything I loved about him, everything I knew about him. She just smiled at me and rubbed my back during it all, giving nods of encouragement as I stuttered over my words.

The days went by as I tried to figure out what to do. I’d sound absolutely bonkers if I just went up to him and professed my undying affection. I’d become every other girl! ‘Except this time, it’d be a girl who truly cares about him…’ I thought bitterly to myself.

Every time I started to brainstorm on how I could run into him or get his attention, I felt like a crazy person. Like someone could peer into my thoughts and watch as I spiraled further and further into the madness of conspiracy theories and red string. It felt wrong to be so… calculated with him. He deserves better than that.

So I stayed quiet, waiting for an opportunity but not pushing it. Waiting for the stars to align and him to drop in my lap. Waiting like I’ve been waiting for the past six years. My frown deepened at that thought, heart weary as I walked into Transfiguration. Three things immediately drew my attention to the far corner of the room.

The object of my affections was actually… attending class.

He was sitting in my seat.

He was staring right at me.

I gulp, hands flexing around the strap of my satchel, nervously and uncomfortably holding eye contact with his gorgeous chocolate pools, the windows to his soul. The only way to describe the emotions swarming in those very same windows, was… curiosity? Amusement? Warmth? It was hard to tell at this distance—the occasional student walking to their seat or passing by to meet up with their friends making it hard to gaze wholly into his eyes.

‘Oh how I wish I knew what you were thinking…’ I shake my head, breaking that train of thought as well as the spell Mattheo and I seemed to be under. A shoulder bumps into me, reminding me I was planted in the doorway. I crossed the threshold, walking towards Mattheo— my desk.

“I’d say I was happy to see you but I’d be happier if I had my own seat.” I prodded jokingly as I sat down rather heavily in the seat to his left. A laugh slipped out of his lips, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile, throwing his head to the side to look at me. “Your seat? I’ve never seen you sit here, baby.” Mattheo teased, eyes glinting with humor.

I felt my cheeks burn at that comment. He said it so casually, that term of endearment that I would give anything to hear him say with meaning.

Our interactions always went this way. He'd shamelessly flirt with me (making me feel as if I couldn't breathe), I tried my best to meet his challenge (occasionally I got him to blush too), and it always ended with him walking away without a backwards glance. ‘Stop, stop thinking that. He’s talking to you, talk back!’ My inner Jiminy Cricket chides.

“You’ve never seen me sit here? Well, darling, I’d have to say this is the first time I’ve seen you in this class. It’s no wonder you’ve never noticed me sitting here.” Mattheo’s eyes widened slightly at that but his smile never faded, pleasantly surprised respond with your own pet-name.

“Wizards and witches, quiet down!” Professor McGonagall called out, dropping a heavy book onto her desk. The sound of the loud thud echoed as the surrounding voices hushed to a silence. She had everyone’s attention. Well, everyone except for the two kids in the far corner.

We continued gazing into each other’s eyes, brows furrowing into an almost challenge to see who’d turn away first. “Ah, Mr. Riddle. Glad to see you bothered to grace us with your presence.” The older woman clicked her tongue, effectively pulling us apart, our eyes breaking contact as our heads whipped toward her. “Talk to me after class.” McGonagall made sure to stare point blank at Mattheo, voice steady and tone devoid of humor. “Fuck, she looks mad.” I put my hand over my mouth, holding in a snicker at Mattheo’s whispered comment as our teacher begins her lesson. “Stop, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” I scold, opening my notebook and reaching into my bag looking for a quill. Oh crap.

My eyes widened in panic. No quill. I started unzipping the different pockets, rummaging around, hoping that with enough silent begging and prayer, one would just magically appear. ‘It’s fitting we’re in Transfiguration… maybe the lesson will be on “Making Your Own Quill.”’

I’m pulled out of my inner grumbling with a tap on my shoulder. I was bent over toward the side, in between Mattheo and I’s tables, searching as silently as possible for anything to write with. So the sudden feeling of two fingers tapping my arm made me jump slightly.

I glance up, seeing the prettiest and most annoyingly smug grin. “If I lend you a quill, will you lend me your seat?” He asked, tapping on the chair he was leaning back in. I frown, eyebrows furrowing yet again as I sit back up. “You not only brought one, but two quills? I didn’t know you owned a notebook.” I whisper back, happily shocked to find out he had planned to pay attention today.

“No, I brought one. And trust me, it was a spur of the moment decision. Deep down we both know I wasn’t gonna use it anyway. Just take it.” He finally pulled out the writing tool from his bag, sliding it onto the wood slab in front of me.

“Mattheo I can’t take your onl-” “You can, and you will.” He smirked, insisting. "Well..." I sigh, nodding as I picked up the feather. "...Mattheo Riddle. You are my hero." "Call me any day baby, I'm happy to rescue such a beautiful damsel." His eyes glinted with amusement at my burning cheeks.

He turned back to face the front of the class, his heart stopping stupid ass grin staying plastered on his gorgeous stupid ass face. ‘He called me bea-HE CALLED ME BEAUTIFUL. What the heck is happening.' I close my eyes, breathing in and out a few times to try to get control over my racing thoughts.

'Will I ever get used to the utter heart palpitations this man causes me to have? It’s like a rabbit is trapped in my chest.’ I shake my head, looking back down at my journal.

I didn’t even know where to begin, utterly lost in this day's lecture as the past however-many-minutes was spent paying attention to Mattheo and panicking over my lack of writing tools rather than the actual subject Professor McGonagall was droning on about.

My thoughts wander back to what I was thinking of before I saw the beautiful boy to the right of me. I’ve been waiting for six years. For six years I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop in my lap, or for Riddle to come profess his love to me, or something, anything. I can’t even remember at this point.

I was tired of it all. Tired of waiting, tired of not knowing, tired of not living just because I yearned for something I didn’t have. I dip the quill in the ink, hesitating as the tip hovered over paper. The ink gathered at the point, almost falling off and splattering on the white page.

I glance to my right, gazing fondly at him. His profile, his curls, his general posture as he tried to pretend he was paying attention but he was simultaneously fighting sleep. His eyes kept fluttering shut and he was slumping further and further down into his chair.

I look back down at the paper. I’m tired of waiting. And so I began writing.

I met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out my heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now I’ll be his shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

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watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees · 4 months ago

Text

He dreams of revenge pt 2.

Marci

word count: 2.6K

pt. 1.

masterlist

TW: drug addiction, withdrawal, guns, gunshot, minor and major character death, implied kidnapping, implied captivity, implied violence, implied abuse, bruises, really messed up states of mind, a creepy carewhumper, suggestive stuff again (nothing nsfw but yk it's there), trans whumpee (lmk if i missed anything)

She drew it out as long as she could. She even thought about powering through the withdrawal, just so the substances will hit better, when she does have the money to buy again, but the tremors and nausea got so bad caved in, and texted Cody.

Cody was probably short for codeine, Marci figured after a while, though she'd never taken it, her knowledge on pharmaceuticals just increased with time. This time she didn't have the money or the urge to experiment some more, she needed something and she needed it fast. Cody replied within the minute and Marci was on her way.

It was sort of chilly outside on the street, but she felt like the temperatures had dropped below the freezing point. She was shivering really bad as if she was being electrocuted with every step she took.

"It's going to be alright. You're going to be just fine. You just need to walk straight. Come on two more blocks!" she muttered and mumbled to herself, repeating some sentences, sometimes missing words. It didn't do much to soothe the nerves.

"Cody's gonna help you. It's alright. You just need to get there. It's fine." The people on the street, left her alone thankfully, they might have thought she was crazy, or figured out exactly what she was doing. She had learned to ignore the weird looks and pitying gazes a long time ago, and the shame that used to eat her alive now ebbed away, only a distant echo of it remained somewhere in the back of her mind.

The feeling of bitter failure, though, was still very much present. She wasn't detective Dallon Burke, with a shiny office at some distinguished police precinct and a law degree in progress, she wasn't the child their parents bragged about, at least not for a long time now. She was just Marci, with a retail job she could barely hold and twenty eight years of experience in being Dallon's twin.

Everything wasn't at a loss yet, she had not borrowed money from Dallon yet. She muttered about him too, before she got to the agreed upon alleyway.

"I would never. I swear on my life, I would not ask for anything. Not of you, not of mom and dad. Let me just have this." Some of the words never reached her mouth. She didn't care about the onlookers, as she cried out "I'm not a thief, Dallon!"

She fought invisible shadows cornering her in her own head.

"It's just that, I'm coming off it" she tried to explain, to no one in particular "I took something pretty heavy, it was mixed with H, I think. I can't be too sure. It's been days though, it all left. I don't feel it anymore... or at least, I don't think so."

She felt scattered. She checked her phone every second, while walking the last few yards, just to make sure she was at the right place. It had happened more often these days that she got lost.

She had explained it to Cody before, in a long ramble of apologies, there was a vacuum inside her head and she sometimes couldn't fight being pulled inside.

Cody frowned, with an unrecognizable, concerned expression, and told her to take care of herself. He also added that she would not get anything experimental for the time being.

She turned the corner into the alleyway, and noticed just a step too late to be able to turn and walk away, what was happening in front of her.

Cody sat on the ground, right by a dumpster. There was a huge, dark puddle around him, his clothes soaked, they were all black as was the pavement under them, but she was sure it all would have been painted bright red. His hands disappeared in his clothes and he hunched over, presumably clutching his stomach. She didn't hear it, but it was pretty clear he was crying.

There was a man standing above him, speaking with an even, calm tone. She took a step closer, couldn't help herself, she was like the moths that flew to the street lamps at night.

If she goes unnoticed long enough, she might be able to snatch off something from Cody's body.

The man turned around. The movements were impossibly fast for her brain to process, but there was a gun pointed in her face.

"You shouldn't have fucking seen that" he groaned, exasperated, like a child whose hiding place was discovered too quickly in a game of hide and seek. She must have kept on muttering, to draw his attention away from the dying man on the ground.

"You said there was no one coming here today. Were you trying to get the cops called on me?" Marci blinked, confused before she realized he was still talking to Cody.

Of course he was. How would this stranger know about Dallon?

"I thought maybe, after we had a little chat, I'd call an ambulance or something" he shrugged, and turned the weapon back towards the drug dealer. "I realize now, they won't be able to help"

He pulled the trigger, Marci watched with a grim fascination as the gun went off, and Cody's body fell to the ground.

It wasn't as loud as she imagined it, but loud enough for her to startle and lose her balance. She found herself sitting on the ground, a distant and dull pain registering only minutes later in her head.

"And how would I know about who?" the man turned back towards her and raised his brows. The gun was pointing to the ground, but she was sure that could change at any moment.

"I- I- I don't know" she stammered, gaze flickering between his face and the weapon. He wore glasses, with a thick black square frame. It fit his sharp features well.

"I mean, you said it, do you know any cops?" he questioned. She shook her head. The movement revived the horrible nausea gnawing itself through her body and sent a fresh wave of tremors down her arms. She lied, Dallon was a cop. But she didn't speak to him, and didn't ask for money.

"Fuck, you're totally out of it, aren't you?" he sighed "I don't know who the fuck Dallon is, you do get that right?" when she gave no response, he leaned over her and flicked the middle of her forehead with his free hand" No thoughts in there, huh?"

"I- I'm- no. I j-just needed Cody, he'd help" She looked back at him, only to realise the dealer was still lying in the very same spot as before. Cody died, Marci was pretty sure now.

"Okay, alright, I can't leave any witnesses, so" he sighed and looked around. The alley was completely empty, even the road it opened from was entirely quiet "you have two options" he held up two fingers, and Marci followed the movement.

"One, you join him there" he gestured towards the body with the gun. Her eyes tracked the wave of his hand now, but he didn't see any sign of recognition on her face. "Two, you come with me"

The weapon was back in her face. Marci stared down the barrel. The first option was bad, she realized that much.

"Will you, uhm, would you help me, I n-need, I need some, uhm..." If the man knew Cody he must have had something. Or maybe Cody didn't give him anything and that's why... He didn't look the part though, he was well dressed, confident and steady, unlike her.

"Option two, then?" He looked to be in complete disbelief, and slightly lowered the gun.

"If you, uhm, if you can help me" he mumbled.

"I can, but then you need to listen to everything I say very carefully, and follow orders" His voice was deep, and it dropped even lower with the last few words. Marci nodded.

"Let's go, then" He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up from the ground.

...

Wesley was fuming. They left him simply no time to get his things in order before he had to run.

So he had to resort to the most dangerous and unpleasant way to go about it. He had give up on Marcelline, so they had no leverage against him.

"Tell me you understand" he commanded her for the millionth time, hiding his frustration behind some weird patronizing worry.

"I understand" Marci nodded, but her face was empty. As time went on since he took her in, she started becoming more an more animated, at times they could even have conversations lasting up to an hour. All that progress was gone in a minute as he explained the plan.

"Tell me, then, what are you doing now?" He prayed at least half of what he had just said registered in her brain.

"I'm running away, and I let them find me and I don't- I don't, I can't tell them anything"

"That's right, we'll let them save you" he nodded, encouraging her to go on. Marci stayed quiet.

"I'll come back for you when it's safe again, okay?" he smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't want to leave" she looked up at him with such sadness in her eyes it almost made him reconsider. He had to save himself first "Please, take me with you"

"We've been over this, doll, I can't. If I do, and they find us, I'll go to prison and you'll be alone for real" he explained again. They'd been over this just a couple of minutes ago. Wesley worried that all that progress of the past year was just a product of his overactive imagination.

"I don't want you to go to jail"

"Me neither, believe me," he sighed, and pressed a kiss on her forehead "and I won't, okay? Just be a good girl and wait for me"

"Okay..." Marci gave up "And how about my- uhm, my medicine?"

"Your actual meds or your drugs?" he raised an eyebrow. He already had an answer to his question, and before she could even open her mouth he pulled an orange prescription bottle out of his pocket. Of course, the contents were different than what was on the label. "There's enough in there for three weeks, that gives me more than enough time to get you back safely" Marci could barely take her eyes off it.

"And the other medicine...?" she asked shyly.

"I'm sure they're prepared for that, doll, don't worry your pretty head" Marci bit lower lip as if to stop herself from saying something.

"Do you remember everything?" he asked again. One last time, just to make sure.

"Yes, Wesley" she nodded. Wesley could practically see the gears turning in her head as she went over the plan. She basically didn't need to do anything, just sit on her pretty ass and wait for him.

...

The image of Marci sitting on a wobbly chair of the police station was forever burnt into Dallon's mind.

She looked like a bad replica of herself. Her hair was flat and unwashed, slightly darker brown than his own sun bleached strands, she was wearing a torn-up shirt that once was white and a pair of dark green shorts. Her skin was a bit dirty, they said she ran into a field when she noticed Dallon's squad, and had to be tackled into the ground for them to actually be able to bring her back. There were bruises, some Dallon was sure she got during the Chase, but some were older, still healing.

The ones that caught his eye the most were forming a greenish blue-ish ring around her throat. That one was enough reason for him to delay facing her; he ran into the nearest bathroom to give way to everything he'd eaten that day to come back. He stayed over the toilet heaving, even after there was nothing coming up, and only then could he collect himself.

Unfortunately, her image stayed with him.

She was quiet, as she'd always been, but it felt different. And Dallon felt if no one else, he'd know the difference.

Days had gone by like that, Marci fought them tooth and nail over everything, but didn't talk to anyone. Being given new clothes she broke down and hugged herself tightly, as if they'd threatened to take her skin off her.

Dallon gave up on that. The clothes, though she'd never have worn anything remotely similar simple garments, seemed to be some sort of comfort items to her.

He spent every waking moment by her side, and by the end of the first week he was overcome by utter hopelessness.

He found the drugs hidden in the bathroom medicine cabinet, sure the label was in her name, but it wasn't one of the bottles he got her with all sort of supplements, and it very obviously didn't look like her estrogen pills.

Dallon took the bottle and sent it to the lab with an anxious knot in his stomach, he had a bad feeling he already knew what kind of pills were there.

When she found the bottle was missing she locked herself into her room. They were in a safe house, waiting for a verdict on Wesley Shaw and whether or not he was involved. Of course he was, it was clear as day, but it was up to a very easily bribed jury and judge.

...

Dallon came to in an unfamiliar room, bound by the wrists and ankles, sitting in the corner. He felt his gut twist into a knot as he looked down to see not his blue and black event attire, but a white shirt with dark green pants. Similar to- no, the same ones Marci wore after they'd freed her.

There was a bed, with two cabinets and a chest of drawers in the otherwise sparsely decorated room.

He contemplated screaming for help, but quickly thought better of it. The more time he had Wesley unaware of him being awake, the more he could plan his escape.

He couldn't wriggle free of his bounds, the rope was tied expertly, it held steady with barely any room for movement, but it still didn't cut off circulation in his hands.

"It's actually eerie how much you two looked alike" Dallon froze, when Wesley appeared in the doorway.

We're identical twins you fucking idiot. He wanted to say, but could only get some garbled noise through the gag in his mouth. Wesley just shrugged. He didn't care to understand.

"I wonder what it would be like, if my mirror image killed me" he walked closer at a leisurely pace. Dallon thrashed and screamed through the gag. He tried to kick on his captor's direction, but all that did was leave him in an even more uncomfortable and vulnerable position.

"How did you even convince yourself I killed her?" he cocked his head to the side with genuine curiosity mixed with the venomous accusation.

Dallon didn't want to listen. As if he hadn't thought of that before. As if he hadn't spent countless nights wondering if it was his fault somehow.

All he wanted was to get her to safety and freedom. Provide her with a new life, a clean one, not tainted by Wesley Shaw and his 'alleged' drug ring. He was supposed to be the one uncovering the truth, with the triumph of bringing him down and making him pay for Marci. He seemed to be aware of it as well.

"What? Did I ruin your little saviour fantasy?" he fake pouted "I'll feel sorry when I have some freetime"

"You should never have hidden her away from me, but that's the smaller problem. You forced her into a withdrawal with no mental preparation or plan to help her through. You killed her, Dallon, not me."

"And now I'm going to make you pay for it"

#whump writing #oc whump #whump #addiction tw #withdrawal tw #gun tw #gun violence tw #implied kidnapping #tw implied abuse #implied captivity #bruises tw #carewhumper #suggestive stuff #trans whumpee #he dreams of revenge

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dewdewick · 7 months ago

Text

Shadows in the dust | Chapter 5

Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use

A/N: sorry Ik this is short, I have a bunch of stuff to add to the next chapter and this seemed like a good stopping point. As always thank you so much to the Betas!

Word count: 3.5k

****************************************

It was almost a day before the fuzzy feeling in her brain went away, but for her it could've been any span of time. She found herself at the base of yet another rock structure, her eyes blinking as she came back to herself. It felt as if she hadn’t blinked or taken a breath in years, all of her senses coming back to her at a rapid pace. She took a gasping breath and coughed violently, doubling over and seeing the blood on her hands as she did. The sight made her gag, dried human blood spread over her hands, arms and face. It had separated as it dried, cracking at the many invisible wrinkles her skin contained. Some flaked off as she touched it only making her urge to vomit stronger.

She took deep breaths, restraining herself as to not lose any precious water her body might be holding on to. Her knees buckled and she let herself fall into the dust, catching her breath and trying to calm herself. She couldn't think straight, couldn't really comprehend what had transpired. Once she seemed to be able to breathe she hoisted herself up, looking up at the sky to gauge the time. It seemed to be almost dusk, another night spent huddled into herself. It seemed strange that she had been in the arena for almost 4 days, one of which she could barely remember.

She wandered up the slope of the rocks as the sky became darker, the beautiful watercolor sky being her only light. Her stomach growled as she walked and she picked up her almost empty water bottle. Opening it she took one last sip, the water feeling cool as it hit her tongue. She hit the side of the bottle to consume the last few drops, the clanging of the bottle echoing around the rocks surrounding her.

As she wandered she began humming to herself, something to fill the silence and slight loneliness overtaking her. The soft melody echoed through the area, surrounding her with its gentle hymn. As she walked her eyes moved to a color out of place. Small specks of a blue color, something extremely bright. The small blue specks moved in the dust, inching all in the same direction.

She chose to go in the same direction, they could be going towards food or water. she walked along, only seeing more and more glowing speckles for what felt like ages. Could this be the game makers leading her to a trap? Maybe a pack of mutts or another tribute waited at the end of the line. A shiver of fear ran up her spine, its tendrils infiltrating her mind. She gripped her pitchfork tightly, ready to fend of herself if need be.

She turned a corner tentatively and came upon a small cave, alight with the blue glow. It looked as if all the stars in the sky had gathered in one place, it almost felt peaceful. The glow drew her in, her eyes filled with the sparkle of the sight. She looked into the cave, making sure no animals lurked within as she set her things down.

As she stood admiring the creeping creatures, her hand reached out but stopped short of touching the insects. They might be poisonous, better to observe from a small distance. She sat on the ground as the sky darkened, watching the glowing lights dance around the cave wall. The capital logo didn’t appear in the sky that night, no deaths had happened apparently.

As she curled up to go to sleep her stomach growled, the lack of food for 2 days making her stomach hurt. She fell into a restless sleep, soon interrupted by a sharp pain on her upper thigh and ribs. Her hand went to her thigh immediately, met with a sticky gelatinous feeling. The glow-worms provided just enough light for her to see as she looked down to find a clump of the same worms on her leg. They congregated where her hip met her thigh, all feeding on her blood plasma.

She furiously plucked them off one by one, her skin ripping as she did. As she threw the insects she saw the circular pattern they had made in her skin as they feasted on her. She found another clump had bitten just underneath her armpit and tore them off as well. She was already losing weight from hunger but this ordeal had made her feel weak. She held pressure on the wound on her thigh as she grabbed her pitchfork, using it as a sort of cane as she walked out of the cave.

A deep humming rang through the air, sounding something like a man’s voice vibrating. She felt on edge, paranoid about the sound as she stumbled around in the complete darkness. The moon gave off the slightest bit of light as she fell against a rock slab. The humming sound rang out again and she held the pitchfork in defiance as she slumped against the rock.

Nothing came to kill her, a bittersweet sensation in the sleep deprivation and starvation she experienced. The sun rose and fell once more and suddenly it had been 3 days since she had eaten anything. She closed her eyes, resting her head on that same rock as the sun rose on the 5th day when she heard it, A distant beeping noise.

She looked to the lightning sky, seeing a parachute and a tin floating towards her. It landed in a patch of dry bush near her, a tiny light blinking on the top. She winced as she stood up, limping over to the package. The wound had spread in a dark lightning bolt pattern along her hip and ribs, definitely a type of slow acting poison.

She opened the package and found a small tub of medicine and 2 small vials of water. A note sat atop the contents, “clean, apply and stay alive -E” She mustered a small smile, pushing her fingers into the holes in her jumpsuit to gauge her wound.

She poured one of the small water bottles on the wounds, sucking in a breath at the sting. She then took a bit of the ointment and spread it on the bites. It was cool and soothed the hot burn of the skin. A few tears fell down her cheeks as she waited for the pain to subside. “I want my mama.” She muttered to herself tiredly.

She sat against the rock for a while, eyes closed. She went over what plans she could make in her head as she let the ointment do its work. She needed to find Finch, even if he was with the other careers he wouldn’t hurt her right? But people could change in the games, she certainly hadn’t planned for what happened. She took a few deep breaths before getting up and looking around her area. A few plants stood but most were poisonous or dead. She saw one that could work in her favor however. she limped over to it picking the tiny yellow flowers off a brittle bush. She put them in the second bottle of water and left it in the sun for 15 minutes before drinking it to relieve the pain.

The sun was high in the sky when a cannon went off, making her jump a bit. She wondered who had died, how they had died. Who was even still alive? Ammo, Dutchess, Finch, Herself, the two kids from district 4. That made 6, but who else had she not seen in the sky? Maybe the boy from district 6 who looked a bit like a roadrunner bird? She laughed to herself as she remembered his sharp pointy nose and eyes that were just a bit too protruding. She felt a bit bad for not remembering his name but not enough to do anything about it.

She didn’t think she had seen the boy from district 11 either, he was as big as an oak and tall as one too. Counting those two it made 8 of them left, she grimaced a bit at the thought. 8 is when they started to interview the families of the tributes, she hoped hers would be able to handle it.

Getting up again she picked a few edible plants throughout the day to distract herself, eating what she could that felt safe. At what should’ve only been 3pm the sun started to set, the noise of the man’s deep humming coming back. The sound was louder than the night before, it sounded closer but she hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t. The vibrating notes lasted for almost an hour and a half, cutting off abruptly as the capital logo appeared in the sky. The Roadrunner boy from district 6 soon came up, a stoic expression in his face. She couldn’t help but let out a dry, tired laugh as he disappeared, not because she was necessarily happy but because she could only really call him “roadrunner boy” to herself.

She climbed on top of a flat rock, curling into her jacket as the wind picked up again as usual. She could only shiver and pray an animal didn’t see her as a late night snack as she fell into a semblance of sleep. As the sun rose on day 6 she pried her eyes open, cracking her neck and sitting up. She let her fingers tentatively move to her wounds, only finding a scab. She let out a sigh or relief, letting herself look at them. The swirling wounds were scabbed but the dark poison wounds remained. They had slowed however, only having moved a few centimeters since she had applied the salve.

Her stomach growled as she stood up, a slight dizziness plaguing her head. She had certainly lost weight on the 6 days she had been in the arena, her only food being the tortoise and a few herbs. She could only hope that the games would be over soon, with only 7 tributes left. Unfortunately most were from career districts, so luck might’ve been ungenerous with her.

As she went about her morning she found a few plants to eat, mainly leaves and a few flowers. She walked across the desert plateaus, toward the beach of the oasis. She could see the glint of the cornucopia in the distance, its golden shine reflecting the hot sun. a few figures stood on the beach, they seemed to stab at the water.

She walked carefully towards them, her pitchfork trembling in her hands. She prayed the figures were friendly, non violent. As she got closer she could start to make out their faces, two heads of blonde hair, one much taller than the other. The two tributes of district 4 seemed to spot her at the same time she figured out who they were. The older girl raised her spear, pushing her younger companion behind her. “Back off! Our allies are just across the water!” The girl shouted.

“I’m not here to hurt you! I’m just looking for my district partner!” She said, tucking her pitchfork under her arm and raising her hands to convey her message. The girl gave a look as if she didn’t quite believe what she was being told. “What district are you from? What’s your name?” The blonde demanded, her spear lowered the smallest bit. “Y/N L/N, I’m from district 2.” She said, trying to remain calm.

“She’s with Finch, the one he’s been looking for.” The young boy said. He and his companion looked at each other for a moment, speaking only through the expressions that crossed their faces. “I’m Meena Whitlock, This is Caspian Kratz.” The girl relented, a slightly softer look crossing her face as she lowered her spear. “Thank you Meena'' she sighed before looking at Caspian, “you said Finch has been looking for me?” Is he around?” She asked.

“He, Ammo, and Dutchess went to go hunt for food, The guy from 11 and you.” He said coming out from behind Meena. She gave a small smile, “and what are you two doing here alone?” He walked a bit closer to her, “Back home we use poles to fish but our mentor taught us to use spears!” He said excitedly. She smiled wider at the young boy, he couldn’t have been older than 14. “Finnick Odair right? That's your mentor?” She asked as he came to stand in front of her.

“Yeah! And Mags Flannigan, she’s really nice.” He said as she nodded. “Sounds like they are very nice.” She commented and he smiled back up at her. “Do you want to help us fish till Finch gets back?” He asked, looking back at Meena. She also looked up at the teen girl who gave a small nod. “Sure sounds good but you’ll have to teach me how.” she said, setting her things down close to the shoreline and taking her pitchfork in hand.

Meena helped her hold the pitchfork, aiming the sharp talons for fish in the water. It was revealed that the two were 15 and 13, Meena being from an elite capital family and Caspian coming from a small village in the heart of the district. While Caspian seemed very extroverted, Meena was introverted. They were like 2 sides of a coin, completely different but bound together by their district. Caspian gushed about how much he had learned from his mentor, all of the knots he could now tie and nets he could weave. It was sweet how much he seemed to look up to Finnick, to want to be just like him.

While they talked Y/N stabbed at the water, mostly hitting underwater plants and the muddy sand underneath. Once again the sun began to set early, sunset starting at what would’ve been only 2pm. She gathered the younger kids and the fish they had caught, asking them where they had been camping out. Caspian pointed to the cornucopia on the island, a tiny fire pit visible.

Meena only looked out to the water, the orange and pink glisten of the sunset making the water sparkle. “Let’s get over there, we don’t want to be out after sunset.” Y/N instructed, nodding to the island. “Ammo said to stay here though-“ Caspian started before the rumbling started in the distance. He looked back at her and Meena with a displeasure in his eye. “He’ll see the fire, I don’t think he’d be mad about us not being out in the open after dark honey.” She said, motioning him to follow. “Let’s get over and build a fire so we can cook the fish ok?” She asked, looking to him and Meena.

The 3 started their swim, the water rippling a bit from the vibrations of the humming in the distance. It was a few moments of swimming before she felt a whipping against her leg. A few fish darting through the water around them. “Swim faster!” she shouted, kicking her legs as hard as she could. She heard Caspian yelp, a cry of pain escaping his lips. She looked back to see him struggling in the water, the dark silhouette of a large fish underneath him. She swam towards him, her leg shooting down and kicking the fish as hard as she could. She saw Meena swimming ahead quickly towards the island, thankful at least one of her companions was getting away unscathed.

She held Caspian’s arm, kicking the fish a few more times before pulling him along and swimming as fast as possible. “Swim honey, you gotta swim!” She directed as they got closer to the edge of the island. Meena waited on the grass, her arms outstretched towards them. “Give him to me!” She shouted frantically as they approached “They’re coming! Hurry!”

Y/N got to the island, pulling herself down further down in the water and hoisting Caspian up to Meena. “Help me up too!” She pleaded as Caspian was safely on the grass, she then saw the hesitation in the girls’ eyes. It was the 15 year olds chance, one step closer to winning the games. “Meena please!” She begged as she felt a tail whip against her back. The young girl still hesitated “I-I can’t…I won’t.” She said, watching the fish circle around Y/N.

Y/N reached up and grabbed a handful of grass, clawing her way up onto the island. She reached Meena’s ankle, skinny enough she could wrap a hand almost around it. She pulled as hard as she could, the younger girl losing balance and falling to her back with a scream. She pulled harder somehow, dragging Meena towards the water as she pulled herself up to her elbows. She kicked as hard as she could, kicking the fish to keep them at bay as they nipped at her ankles.

A fish bit down on her calf, hard. With a scream of pain and a strong pull she found herself on the island and Meena in the water. The fish, as if on cue, ripped into the girl as she flailed. Caspian screamed for his companion as Y/N held him close, covering his ears and shielding him from the horrific screams. A cannon sounded after a few moments, the fish departing and only bits of Meena floating in their departure.

The fish that had bitten her calf laid flailing on the grass, it’s eyes bugged out and its mouth gasping. She just held Caspian, rocking him as he cried. She pet his hair and kissed his forehead. “It’s ok sweetheart, it’s okay.” She whispered into his hair. He pressed his face into her shoulder, small sobs wracking his body. “I’m so sorry love” she murmured, rubbing his back as he cried. Shame rose in her gut, the hot feeling heavy on her chest. She whispered her apologies as he cried until he couldn’t any longer. All the while the vibration of the voice in the desert played in their ears.

#fanfic #finnick odair #finnick x reader #thg fanfiction #thg series #x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #thg #catching fire

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superaznchick · 7 months ago

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i had a whole rant typed out like 2 days ago that i made while emotional but it will rot in my drafts forever now because i have now spent the required amount of time in the timeout corner and properly digested my emotions to come back and make a fresh new post

idk what corporate girly out there slaving in front of a laptop needs to hear this AGAIN, because i certainly have heard this before but subconsciously dismissed it because Surely That Won't Happen To I, but it DID so i am now yelling at you from the other side

DONT FUCKING TRUST YOUR MANAGER!!!!!!!!! the nuance here is that YES they can be nice, and they can 100% be the best person ever, and they might not even consciously manipulate you. but you are never safe from subconscious manipulation or just straight up incompetence.

if your manager does their job well, it means you are manipulated. BUT if they do their job BAD, you STILL get manipulated!! this is because even if they are incompetent, you will always end up bridging the gap for their incompetence and it will weigh you down and you will NEVER get credit for your work. in fact, you are in danger on both ends of the spectrum - if you manager is good, they'll take credit for your work. if your manager is bad, they'll STILL take credit for your work AND make you suffer for it because they won't even have the skills at least get you the reward you deserve.

ive spent the last 3 years under my do-nothing manager always giving him the benefit of the doubt, "oh he's just a silly lil guy this is his first management job he doesnt know what hes doing" type shit, and i have nothing but stress and resentment to show for it.

i have LITERALLY been DOING HIS JOB FOR HIM. i revamped our meetings, i put sprint processes in place, i drew our team scope/borders and weighed in on who should staff projects. and on TOP of that i did tech lead and regular ic work. i was doing both my job and at least 50% of his because im not a fucking manager and theres only so much i can do.

but all this time my actual skill set as an engineer is deteriorating because ive been begging for mentorshop/coaching since day one i joined the team, which is 100% the manager's job to coach and level up their engineers, but these needs were completely ignored in favor of me trying to get this dumb fucking team together because my manager literally does nothing. he doesn't do his fucking job, and he gets away with it because he has high soft skill!!!! his boss likes him!!! so he will not be punished!!!!!!

i on the other hand am severely punished because i have revealed my hand as a do-all "superstar", im the one that gets 3 projects with the same deadline that i have to do all by myself, im the one thats expected to do all my work and more AND i am the one that takes the brunt of flack when external teams are ultimately disappointed that the deadlines are not met. i get no protection from any of this shit because my manager is fucking incompetent and refuses to step up. whether he consciously or subconsciously does this DOES NOT MATTER!!!! you will ALWAYS eat it at the bottom line!!!

treat your manager like your enemy, never trust them. size them up in your first few 1:1s to see how much they can do for you in terms of your career. if they are NOT delivering results within the first 2-3 months, CLOCK OUT!!!!!! decenter work from your life, shut the laptop at 5pm sharp, put in your bare minimum to not get canned and turn your brain off from all work problems. sometimes the corporate grind is worth it but ONLY if you have someone competent managing you and they are smart enough to recognize that engineers under them need reward and respect to be retained. if they won't or can't retain you, just let it happen!!!! dont overextend yourself it's never worth it

obv im yelling this from my jail cell as a software engineer so idk how much of this is applicable to other fields, but that's my two cents. i have spent way too much time being upset and angry these last few weeks to not vent about it. if this applies to you, pls save yourself the heartache and learn the skill of decentering work for when it comes in handy. im not advocating for indiscriminate quiet quitting bc that can actually be harmful to your financials, but the art of quiet quitting should still be mastered for when the appropriate time arises. use your discretion

#personal

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its-reddie123 · 1 month ago

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God's cross

Chapter 2

Content warnings: lots of potential triggers such as homophobic language and actions and references to self harm and suicide and torture and institutional abuse

AN- this is based heavily on the film 'the miseducation of Cameron post' and wrote this ages ago before seeing the whole film, it is a bit heavy but doesnt actually go super into anything, figured i may as well upload the rest even though its been years lol, see chapter 1 here:

“And so I said look Greta if your interested your going to have to actually fucking kiss me otherwise this is a no go, and she said she couldn’t do that, can you believe that shit?” Beverly was immersed in telling Stan about her and Greta when Richie returned but Beverly barely noticed and continued her discussion

“I mean I can bev, the point of this place is not to be gay” Stan said giggling and whispering the last part even though the cafeteria was mostly empty now.

“Stanley this is not a laughing matter Beverly’s love life is the highest of importance” Richie added

This just made Stan laugh more Beverly was laughing now too and soon they were all roaring with laughter. Then a matron came over telling them to stop and took Stan away and Beverly and Richie proceeded to go bunk prayer group together.

Later that day Richie went to the communal showers. It had been a long hot day and he desperately needed to wash before bed. When entering it was apparent straight away something was wrong , the room was full of steam the heat hitting Richie like a wall. Then he heard the sobbing at first he couldn’t hear it properly over the shower that was pumping out all the hot water and it just sounded like small whimpers but as he drew closer it was clear they were huge ragged sobs. When he rounded the corner it made horrific sense, Eddie was curled up into a ball on the floor crying uncontrollably his legs and arms a bright red, painfully burnt from the hot water. He sat there letting the water hit his red back , Richie ran over to the shower turning it off

“Fuck fuck fuck” Richie ran over to Eddie wrapping him in a towel.

Eddie just sat there, tears still falling down his face as Richie sat down opposite “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Eddie looked down to the floor

“Was this about what happened earlier? You are clean Eddie your the cleanest I have ever seen a person, ever I promise you were never dirty in the first place”

Eddie looked up at him with round eyes, as these were exactly the words he had wanted to hear for such a long time.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah I do” he nodded “so this is because we kissed?” Richie asked tentatively, Eddie dropped his head down again.

“Yeah I guess, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have done what I did it was wrong, very wrong”

Richie felt his heart jolt just seeing someone so torn up like Eddie was, he wanted to protect him but didn’t know what to say

“Did Bev tell you about me?” Eddie asked still looking at the floor

“I may have made enquiries yes, about the pretty boy who kept starring at me”

“Does she hate me?”

“No but you really hurt her, I don’t think she hates you though, she just didn’t like you left her all alone”

“Would she forgive me?”

“I don’t know, probably” Richie had edged slightly closer and was twiddling Eddies damp hair between his fingers. Very slowly Eddie moved his head to lay it against Richie’s shoulder leaning in towards his neck, Eddies hot breathe against Richie’s neck sent shivers down his spine.

“You know I don’t actually know your name” Eddie whispered into Richie’s neck

“Richie” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around Eddie pulling him closer. They sat like that for what felt like hours on the wet shower floor. Richie never did get round to washing that night.

Things were looking up despite the dire circumstances, Stan was now a fully active member of their group and had began joining the two in their little trips to the sports shed after dark. They would sit up and talk about everything and nothing which became their own kind of counter therapy.

Eddie hadn’t approached Richie again since that night in the showers and had said he needed some time, and Richie didn’t want to impose so he left him be. This was until one Saturday about a month into Richie’s time at the camp, he knew he hadn’t seen the worst of the place as he’d been complicit with basically all the demands. He heard things about those who weren’t so compliant with the programme so he continuously avoided the urge to get up and punch all of them in the face. What they said was always so wrong “diseased” , “disgusting” , “dead inside” it made him so angry having to listen to that bullshit every day in and out, he’d had got to the stage of clenching his fists during the sessions so hard he had started to scar the inside of his hands with his nails. This is how he ended up seeing Eddie again.

Eddie was on his way to lunch crossing the deserted court yard. He was thinking about Richie like how his dark curls hit his forehead, how his brown eyes shon through his glasses the freckles on his face and his lips...a sudden flash of green crossed his vision followed by a loud *SMASH*. Eddie hesitantly went round the corner the plant had came flying from finding Richie kicking an old wooden bench into splinters while swearing repeatedly under his breath , His face red and frustrated.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie asked nervous, he hadn’t really seen someone this angry before.

Richie stopped in his tracks a little when he realised it was Eddie “I’m fine” he walked away crossing the field, Eddie following him

“I wanna talk to you”

“Not now I... I don’t want to hurt you or anything so just walk away Eddie”

“No”

“Walk away!”

“I have already had enough hurt for a life time I’m sure you couldn’t possibly do anything that’s worse” the hot mid day sun was beat down on their backs

“I really like you Richie!” Eddie shouted as Richie began to get further away “do you know how hard it is for me to say that! You gotta help me I can’t do this on my own and neither can you, tell me what’s wrong, please” Richie stopped and turned around

“I’m just sick of feeling disgusted with myself” Richie said turning around his fists clenched avoiding eddies eyes. Eddie began closing the distance between them until they were almost face to face

“So am I, but if we were...” he was cut off as Richie suddenly took Eddies face in his hands connecting their desperate mouths while Eddie grasped his hands around Richie’s neck to close the last bit of distance between the two. Richie pulled away quickly

“Not here”

“Yeah, I know a place” Eddie said raising his eyebrows and taking Richie’s large calloused hand in his smaller one entwining their fingers.

“Hey bev?”

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk?” Eddie sat down next to her in the empty library.

“About what?” She said eyeing him with caution

“I wanted to say sorry, I know I can’t fix it I cant really justify what I did either just know I was in a really dark place I couldn’t... see you because then might have sent me back, they still could send me back”

“But back where, Eddie? What happened? Why did you say those things” Bev said tears beginning to brim in her eyes

“It was like torture, I didn’t know how long I was going to be down there when I would see the light of day again, they broke me put me back together in the wrong way, I don’t really... can’t really go into the details” Eddie drew in a shaky breathe tears beginning to fall down his face

“I said it because I wanted them to know I was like how I was before that I really had changed, but I haven’t Bev and I don’t know what to do” Eddie then broke down completely and Beverly brought him into a strong hug.

“Is this about you and Richie?” She asked pulling away and using her thumb to brush away stray tears on his now shocked face.

“How did you know?”

“I’m not dumb, I’ve seen it several times where you two leave at the same time to go to ‘the toilets’” she said with air quotes

Eddie smiled his cheeks turning a dusty red.

“Yeah but it’s not all about... that, I really really like him “

“Do you love him?” Beverly grinned

“To be honest I think I am falling for him it’s terrifying thing not just because I’m worried he doesn’t feel the same but because I know it’s all wrong there’s this voice that keeps telling me it’s wrong Bev that’s what I was talking about before I don’t know what to do” more tears traced down his face.

“It’s how you feel Eddie it’s not wrong, we’ll figure this out I promise” she smiled solemnly

“Hey Richie, Bev she’s in trouble” Stan ran up to him as Richie was about to enter the dining hall,

“Shit what is it?”

“Greta and her started a shouting match in the middle of cafeteria and then Greta started beating her up”

Richie didn’t need to hear anymore he ran through to medium sized hall scanning the room. Eddie was by his side almost instantly as Richie’s eyes landed on the the two girls who were surrounded by seemingly every fucking teenager there was in the camp the majority egging the two girls on.

They were on the floor rolling about, screeching, pulling hair, punching. Beverly seemed to be holding her own but she did have a bloody nose and red marks all up her arm. Richie was first to push through the crowd surrounding them girls and tried pulling away Greta only to receive and elbow right to the nose. He stumbled back stan and Eddie holding him up but before anymore of them could even attempt to intervene suddenly another figure was pushing through the crowd, one of the matrons. She pulled Beverly away by the arms as she resisted kicking and screaming but the matron was unfazed

“She tried to touch me miss!” Greta shouted standing up with her fair share of cuts and bruises

“Oh fuck off greta! you fucking BITCH!!” Beverly shouted still struggling as to no prevail to get away from the matron.

The three boys watched helplessly as their friend was dragged away

“Fuck it” Stan said running after her

“No don’t! it’s no use Stan!” Eddie shouted but it was too late he had already rounded the corner

Beverly and Stan weren’t seen for another three days. Richie had gone into complete lock down making sure Eddie kept close by him, they sat together in the food hall only showing any affection after dark when they both snuck out to see each other in the old garage Eddie had shown him, Richie was not having them taking any chances.

“I don’t know how you like me” Eddie said cutting through the silence

“What do you mean? How could I not? You’re my Eddie spaghetti” Richie said tousling eddies hair while pulling him closer on their makeshift bed of old blankets and pillows.

“I’m so gross and like slimy sometimes I feel like one of those ugly goblins you have in fairy stories”

“Shut up! your gorgeous”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes, an infinite times yes”

“Damn I can’t argue with that”

Richie pulled him closer into a kiss, the whole world dropping away, he loved when it was just them

“It’s getting late I don’t wanna get caught” Eddie said looking at his watch

“Nooooo 5 more minutes” Richie said as he clung to Eddie kissing his neck

“Ah why are you like this?” Eddie said giggling and struggling to free himself from Richie who was now blowing raspberries into his neck

They crept back to the dorms and Richie waved goodbye and started closing his door when he saw the matron grab Eddie by the collar

“What are you doing sneaking out of bed?! Trying to sleep with other boys again?! We shall be having none of that from you” she screeched whilst quickly dragging him away by the collar before Richie could even begin to protest

Neither of them slept that night

#it #reddie #itmovie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it2017 #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #beverly marsh #stanley uris #gods cross

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clatterbane · 3 months ago

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I am feeling greatly vindicated about now, in a way that I am very aware is probably verging on bitchiness on this end too. But, some people just affect me that way.

What do we have here, through the portal? Starting cortisol levels toward the lower end of normal for that time of day. And also well within the normal range? The cortisol-stimulating hormone which is what goes screwy and gets overproduced to make your adrenal glands pump out too much cortisol, if the problem is on the pituitary end.

The point of this overzealous testing?

The dexamethasone suppression test is used to diagnose endogenous Cushing syndrome by assessing the lack of suppression of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis in response to exogenous corticosteroids.[1] The first use of dexamethasone for diagnosing Cushing syndrome was in 1960 by Liddle; he developed a test based on the non-suppressibility of endogenous cortisol production in Cushing syndrome versus the physiological suppression in nonaffected individuals achieved by dexamethasone.[2]

So yeah, if you give someone even a single dose of dexamethasone (never mind the sledgehammer 8-dose multiday protocol they hit my endocrine system with!), their body should cut way back on its own cortisol production to compensate. If the regulating mechanism is borked, it will just keep pumping out the ACTH and then a bunch of cortisol anyway.

What happened in this case?

Whoosh!

Straight down within the expected time frame, from totally fine levels starting out. The usual low single-dose test would have more than done it, without fucking my blood sugar up or giving me its own version of the Prednisone Crazies to anywhere near the same extent. They are apparently looking for at least a 50% reduction in levels, and we have more than met that goal!

(Yeah, they are close enough drugs to have similar effects. I've unfortunately had to take courses of prednisone multiple times, mostly for particularly nasty allergic skin reactions. But dexamethasone is stronger stuff and the effects apparently last longer. 👿 I am very relieved to be done taking the shit as of like 6:30 this morning. Probably a few more days of lingering fun to look forward to.)

It was a dramatic enough drop during that first day, that the nurse actually went ahead and reassured us this morning that things were obviously perfectly fine there when I went in for the second steroided-up blood draw.

Gotta say the lab was quick! They drew the samples just before 8:30 again today, and the results were up on the portal when I logged in somewhere around noon. That clinic is right in the university medical center complex, but still.

They took so much blood the first time because the endo also decided to throw in All The Tests while she was at it. Including a bunch of the diabetes-standard ones that she already ordered before the recent routine check-in appointment where she sprung this xenophobic concern-trolling bullshit on me in the first place. Also got expanded kidney and liver panels, what seemed like every other major hormone in my body checked, and a whole new battery of tests prompted by the chronic anemia. A lot of those repeats of what primary care just recently ordered (and she could see the results of) after she kicked that over to their side. At least it was just two tubes for the cortisol and ACTH today.

But yeah, at least nothing out of that huge battery of tests came back looking weird in unexpected ways! I am still slightly anemic, my sodium and potassium levels are still running just barely under range, and a couple of kidney indicators are still looking borderline wonky in a very diabetic way.

(Which seems to be staying pretty stable for years now, not even far off enough that anyone has seemed to feel like it's needed treatment--and it's frankly a miracle that my renal function isn't way more thrashed than that, after the number of years of earlier negligence and uncontrolled blood sugar. Ruined kidneys was honestly one of my big nagging worries while all of that was still going on.)

Anyway, one thing I WAS actually glad and somewhat relieved to see while scrolling through that huge mess of reports:

Because it was primarily a pituitary prolactinoma that I got removed back in high school. And especially with the healthcare mess back in the US? I am not aware of that ever having been checked again within the past 30 years. My family ended up uninsured within a year or two of the surgery, and the last follow-up probably happened in 1992-93. The symptoms thankfully did go away over time--along with the freaking cortisol side bonus staying distant history!

(None of which was the endo aware of when she decided I looked weird enough to constitute a medical problem, I just can't restrain myself from emphasizing again.)

The little fuckers do have a distressing tendency to come back sometimes. But yeah, BTDT and I am pretty confident that I would have noticed if that were causing problems. But, I am still glad for the confirmation that my prolactin levels are fine now.

This whole thing was, indeed, uncalled for. And I am still perversely gratified to be proven right about this, when it's been taking up so much rent-free space in my head. (Thanks, PTSD!) And also to see that I am honestly looking healthier across a whole slew of bloodwork measures than I was half-afraid I might.

#personal #medical stuff #medical fuckery #endocrine #xenophobia #medical fatphobia #of a really freaking bizarre kind #medical ptsd #c-ptsd

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sparguscityangel · 2 years ago

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it’s quicker and easier to eat your young

@segaphantom wanted more animalistic!Dark Jak and then i realized that i, too, wanted that. but then while thinking up of scenarios, i had too many ideas i wanted to explore and also im a Creature and like horror so i decided to do a mini mini series of 5 times dark jak was treated like an animal + 1 time he was treated like a person. this is part one set somewhere before jak 2. because why not. this series is also open to suggestions warning: descriptions of violence and killing. i tried being as mild as i could, but if you guys wanna see something more gorey i gotchu.

enjoy!

5. Everywhere Kwin looked she saw only red. The prison — though usually bathed in a suffocating and nauseous green — was now bathed in a sharp crimson. The alarms were blaring and echoing off metal cell blocks and the lights were bouncing off the polished armour of dead guards everywhere. Even looking down at her palms, all she could see was red.

It was bound to happen. Kwin wasn’t as naive as her young intern — Oh, Precursors, he was only twenty-five — and she wasn’t going to lie to herself that she didn’t see this coming. She had been warned. She had had amble time to stop what she was doing, but the payoff seemed so close, close enough to reach out and grab, that she had buried all her doubts in order to pursue it. The first of an army, the fist of Haven City, their weapon against the Metal Heads — all within reach, and she was going to be in the history books as the mother of the DWP. Even now, as the screams of guards heading straight to the slaughter drew closer and closer, Kwin couldn’t help herself. Breaking into the lab was easy enough, the only real obstacle was leaping over dead scientists and trying to stuff as many viles and files into her bag as possible. Every sample, reaction, combustion, exploratory surgery, tonic, and experiment were valuable to their research. Five painstakingly long years of failure after failure had finally yielding a success and she wasn’t going to let her legacy die in the rubble.

She licked sweat off her upper lip as she moved through the laboratory, ransacking the offices for any and all flash drives she could find. The team that worked with her was small, only about ten alums from the best programs from the best school from the best boroughs, and all had impressive research. She’d credit them, one day. Though, of course, as footnotes. She was the pioneer, after all.

The bag around her had grown heavy, irritating her old bones as it tugged her down, but she couldn’t stop gathering more and more. It was only when the skin on the back of her neck prickled did she realize she was not alone.

She froze. Hand mid-turn of a door knob, Kwin felt the air in the lab shift significantly. It was here. It took all her courage to turn around, squinting through broken lenses to find nothing there, but she wasn’t naive. She didn’t get to be one of Haven’s top eco scientists by ignoring her gut, and her gut was telling her something was lingering in the flickering red lights. The offices were all opened with broken windows and overturned chairs. She scanned the room, darting her head at every corner for any sign of the creature in her midst. Slowly, she finished turning the door knob and continued into the corridor. It lead to the lower levels of the prison, usually reserved for the guards to manuveour easily through the floors in case of a riot. As if it mattered. It had only took mere minutes to dispose of the guards on duty. They barely stood a chance at containing that thing, yet Kwin couldn’t help but be in awe of it. She couldn’t help herself. Kwin had never been a mother, never felt the desire to be one, frankly. The city was on its last legs as it was, what point was there in bringing more mouths to feed when it was a struggle to feed herself? No, her work was her family. That was her legacy. In that moment, as she watched the creature sink its teeth into the jugular of her intern, she didn’t feel fear. She felt euphoric. She wondered if this is how it felt to see one’s child for the first time, to see the fruits of labor paid off in a way that she had only ever hoped it would. She, and she alone, had finally found a way to tame dark eco and create something from it. Her skin to skin bonding was watching her perfect monster tear the limbs off Nova and Fender.

Kwin made it two yards before the backup lights of the corridor shut off with a low hum, and the emergency alarm casted a long shadow of herself on the wall. It felt like the obnoxious ‘ding!’ of a kitchen timer. She swallowed, her legs refusing to move as the door ripped from its hinges and another shadow joined her own. Her hands worried the leather strap of her bag, gripping it impossibly tighter as she turned to face the creature.

The subject itself wasn’t an ideal match for her expectations. She had wanted someone older, taller, robust, obedient. She had sneered when Erol presented her with the subject, explaining to her that looks were deceiving and promised her that the subject would exceed all her expectations. She was skeptical, obviously, but now, she admitted that she was wrong. It was perfect. It stood at the door frame, crouched on its hands and knees as it watched Kwin with beady eyes that were a tad too big for its face. A lithe form that she had seen maneouvor gracefully between kills, leaping from victim to victim with all the brutality of a Metal Head. It moved towards her, and Kwin reflectively held a hand in front of her. She cleared her throat, mustering all the authority she held into her voice when she commanded, “Don’t move,”

The creature looked taken aback. It rose up from its crouch. She licked her lips, then spoke again. “Stay!” she hissed, taking a step towards it. The creature didn’t move. Good. It understands commands. “Heel,”

And understand it did. It lowered, sitting on its knees with its upper body nearly pressed against the floor. Blood had soaked its uniform thoroughly, leaving smears of gore on the ground. All the while, it kept its eyes trained on her as she moved closer.

“That’s it. Be a good boy, and stay,” she said in a hushed tone, giddiness rising up in her. If the creature only answered to her, she could use this to her advantage. The nagging voice in her head that warned her of the Baron crossing her was silenced. How could he command the creature if it viewed Kwin as its Alpha? It would only respond to her, and her alone.

Who ever said beating submission into something wouldn’t pay off?

She smiled down at the creature, letting go of the strap of her bag. With the tip of her boot, she nudged the creature. It stayed still, stiff and quiet. All that time she spent running around the prison in fear for something so unresponsive. She huffed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She’d have to call her sister later and recount the encounter, already thinking up of ways to describe the utter power she now holds over the creature. She clicked her tongue at it, watching an ear flicker. “Come,” she said, turning around to continue the walk down the corridor. Cell Block F should be at the end, and it’ll have to do until she’s able to request backup to clean Cell Block B. By the way bits of flesh hung from the horns of the animal, she doesn’t think the Cell Block is particularly pristine at the moment.

Her steps echoed in the hollow corridor, though she doesn’t hear the patter of the creatures bare feet behind her. She scoffed, frustrated. Her patience was wearing thin already. “I said, come,” she shouted over her shoulder. The muscles under its ashen skin rippled and flexed, calculating. She was just about to spit out another command when it moved.

The thing about a wild animal, Kwin realized too late, is that they are far more intelligent than one would think. Predators have survived for years in the harshest environments, growing and evolving and adapting in order to live to see another day. Though one could argue that a predator born and bred in captivity is all bark and no bite, it didn’t mean that it has lost all simblence of survival. A caged Metal Head is still a Metal Head, after all. The scorpion will always sting the frog no matter how many times the story is told. It’s in their nature.

Kwin should’ve remembered that sooner, before the creature pounced on her back and sunk its claws into her shoulders. She fell instantly, screaming. She kicked and thrusted herself upwards, but the creature held her down with strength to rival that of a fully grown man. It growled and roared, flipping her over onto her back to with ease. Kwin stared up at the monster she created, at the blood and vicera clinging to its features. It was fast, faster than it should be for something so strong and brutal. It could’ve killed her in the laboratory, but instead it had stalked behind her, waiting until there was nowhere to hide before attacking. It slashed at her throat, only knicking her chin when she thrusted her palm up to its throat. It barely fazed it, only making it more mad.

Even while fighting for her life, all Kwin could think about was her bag. Its contents laid spewed and gutted on the floor, flashdrives broken and pages ripped in their scuffle. All those years of research amounting to nothing as the creature grew bored of fighting her and ripping into her throat with fangs sharper than daggers. Her blood splattered across its face and chest, and she watched as it spat the chunk of her neck out.

Darkness was creeping in, and in her final moments, the creature bent down near her ear. Its breath was hot and raspy as it whispered, “Stay,” before everything turned to static.

#jak and daxter #rip kwin shouldve know not to look a wild animal in the eyes #angel's fic #throws this into the void and runs #jak 2 #dark jak

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blue-eyed-bloodstains · 2 years ago

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1. First thing you wash in the shower? my hair 2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? I’d never stop drinking either if it were possible, especially alcohol 3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? of course he’s my fiance :P 4. Do you plan outfits? no 5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? tired and stressed 6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? the blanket over me 7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? O_O...what the fuck?! I’d scream blue bloody murder slam the door shut, lock it and call 911 8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? considering it’s 5am and I’m still wide awake, and the last I had dozed off and woken up was yesterday at like 4:30pm ish? I barely remember now but I know it was really fucked up 9. Three of your current feelings? stressed, tired, lonely 10. What are you craving right now? a strong drink...hell I’ll drink it straight, just give me something! 11. Turn ons? honesty, sense of humor, respectful, kind, nice eyes and smile, patient, good communication, supportive 12. Turn offs? arrogant, rude, entitled, ignorant, pushy, flirtatious towards other women, abusive, controlling, anger issues 13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? MY CABBAGESSSSS!!! XD 14. When was the last time you cried? Why? last week when he told me he wasn’t gonna be home this week for a home visit from the job he’s been on in NZ since February...that he’s there till the “end” (doubt it’s over, he’ll have to go back eventually) of it which is the end of May... 15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? Deadpool for sure 16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? yeah but it was complete bullshit... 17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? lick it 18. Favorite movie ever? not possible to choose 19. Do you like yourself? hell no 20. Have you ever met a celebrity? yeah 21. Could you handle being in the military? I’ve considered it at one point but I know deep down I’d never be able to handle it...not just physically, but the mental hell I’d be put through with the treatment. it’s way too dangerous cause of my already existing mental illnesses and history of trauma.. 22. What are you listening to right now? I have crime shows on tv 23. How many countries have you visited? never left the country 24. Are your parents strict? my mom was a severely overprotective parent...pretty much the suffocating type, my dad was a bit more laid back 25. Would you go sky diving? hell no 26. Would you go out to eat with a stranger? maybe, it depends but probably not without knowing at least basics about the person 27. Whats on your mind right now? overthinking as always and just wanna go to sleep 28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? lots 29. Have you ever been in a castle? nope, never got my Hogwarts letter :| 30. Do you rent movies often? used to. obviously Blockbuster growing up, then Redbox for years...now just stream for free with the occasional still going to the theater for certain movies 31. Whats your zodiac sign? Taurus 32. When was the last time you had sex? been too long, we’re way overdue... 33. Name five facts about yourself. - I’m a tomboy - I was on a parent/child bowling league when I was very young with my dad, we won trophies and beanie babies...good god the bags of duplicate beanie babies... - I was in gymnastics and dance when I was between about 4-7 and have video from some of the performances - I’m a huge horror fan - I’ve been in an inpatient facility before 34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? yep...my bday 2015, I got acute alcohol poisoning with perc in my system too and ended up in the ER without any memory of what happened. and last year, March 21, 2022 I totaled my car careening off the road into trees, totaling the car and should be dead. my first DUI and my BAC at the hospital when they drew my blood was .408, which everyone was surprised I wasn’t seizing or comatose by that point. miraculously with most of my roof caved in and the windshield caved in with a branch through it inches from where my head was, I walked away with bruises and major whiplash...nothing serious 35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? yeah 36. Brown or white eggs? both are good 37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? hell yeah that’s my store! 38. Ever been on a train? many times (Amtrak) 39. Ever been in love? yes...and currently am 40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? I know I’d regret it but yeah most likely lol 41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? my grandparents...Mimi and Grandpa, they didn’t deserve to go the way they did... 42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to become more attractive, would you do it? probably 43. Whom do you admire and why? several people for several reasons... 44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? not sure, don’t remember ever really being read to sleep at night so.. 45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? I don’t have the courage to run in myself and try to find it, as guilty as I feel saying that...I’d try to comfort her and call for help, screaming out for anyone else to help in the meantime 46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? no. it’s their life, they’ll decide what they wanna do and what they’re passionate about and what makes them happy, and I’ll support them 100% 47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? being able to drink till I blacked out and couldn’t anymore and be numb and shut my head up even just for a short amount of time... 48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? all the hell it brought down on me from family...and causing me to finally have a record as well as total my car that I’d only had for three months at that point. 50. As your walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? no, turn it in and yes I mean that 51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? of course, I’m not like that to where I’d discriminate or treat them like the plague avoiding them at all costs. that’s beyond fucked up. I’d be more careful, obviously, but nothing would change 52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? no...given my history of suicidal tendencies and ideation, that’s way too much of a trigger (pun intended) for me to even consider or be asked to do. 53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 19, three months shy of turning 20...I was very late to the game, not exactly by choice either just never had the opportunity or means and I wasn’t like most girls my age doing it so young 54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? ghosts yeah, definitely 55. If you could live forever, would you want to? absolutely not...life is hell 56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? Hermione Granger, hands down. the book smarts, the averageness, the insecurity, the quiet loner, the intelligent know it all, the best in class, the wit, the kindness, the loyalty to friends, the perfectionist... 57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? as fucked up as this sounds, and as much of a death wish as it is? I’d definitely wanna see the dinosaurs 58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? ummm...?? my curiosity is a bitch so I have a bad feeling I would 59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? FUCCCCKKKKK NOOOOOOO! fuck that shit, I’m out! 60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? no I’d be fine with either gender it wouldn’t really matter to me. 61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? live longer...though wealthy would definitely help some things

#survey #bored #random #about me

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hertzwritings · 3 years ago

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An Arrangement, chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Whole Wide World

A/N: I’m truly sorry I’ve been AWOL for so long, BUT in my defense, life happened, I had a kid, started school again and ran headfirst into postpartum depression, anxiety and OCD. It’s been a fun year!

Anyway, without further ado, here’s chapter 2 to An Arrangement - if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

ASK ME ANYTHING

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Pairings: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of smut, Henry being Henry

Chapter 2: The Whole Wide World

“So, let me get this straight…” You started after what felt like a bucket of coffee and half a tub of aspirin. Henry took a sip of his coffee.

“You need me… To pretend to be your girlfriend… For what, six months? To avoid scandals? Because you’re human and had sex?” Henry lifted an eyebrow and smirked slightly, but nodded. You sighed and leaned back in the soft chair in his living room, before looking around yet again, clutching your coffeecup in your hand, trying to steady yourself to something slightly more real than Henry Cavill in front of you in sweatpants.

The apartment was gorgeous. Light and airy, with soft and beautiful furniture, that somehow didn’t really fill up the space - the apartment seemed like it wasn’t really lived in. The only thing that made it seem like an actual home, was Kals foodbowl and his various toys strewn across the several rooms.

You glanced at Henry. He looked stoic and apprehensive, almost sizing you up. He seemed too still, like he was expecting a bomb to go off at any time, and he was staring at a point somewhere over your head while scratching Kals ear.

“How would it work, even?” You asked. “We barely know each other…” He lifted his eyebrow. “Oh, I’d say we know each other pretty intimately.” You rolled your eyes. “Okay, we don’t know anything about each other. How would this work?”

He sat his cup down on the dark, wooden table next to his chair and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, before looking back up at you.

“Listen, I know this is not exactly an ideal situation. If I could, I’d take it back… Well, not all of it…” He winked at you. “But it’s entirely unfair that you are being dragged into this because of me. I’m not sure how it would work, but I suspect you probably need to join me on press tours, red carpets… Maybe we have a few outings?” He shifted his weight a little.

“I can pay you. I feel awful about this.” You scrunched your nose. It didn’t feel right being paid for spending time with him.

“No, you don’t have to pay me.” You sighed and sat your now cold coffee on the table in front of you and shifted a little in your seat.

“I know this is not ideal. I just… God, I’m so sorry Y/N.” He ruffled his hair and closed his eyes, looking absolutely defeated. It sealed the deal for you. He looked lost and alone, and you were having none of it. You stood up and with a few steps, you were in front of him. His eyes were still closed, and you drew a deep breath before crouching down in front of him.

“Henry. Look at me.” You gently placed your hand on his knee and he slowly opened his eyes. You didn’t notice how blue they were last night, and you noticed his brown spot - his eyes were beautiful. Just like the rest of him. In any case, you’d be happy to look at that face for a few months. “I’ll do it. No payment, okay? I don’t have anything better to do, anyway, and it would be a fun adventure. Going on a red carpet? Spending time out of my crappy apartment? Hell, yeah, I’d love to!” You smiled cautiously at him. He searched your face carefully, looking for any signs of dishonesty before cracking a slight smile.

“You sure?” You nodded.

“I’ve got one condition tough.” His face flashed with insecurity.

“You have to order food for me right now. I’m starving.” He grinned.

“You got it.”

It seemed somewhat effortless to spend time with Henry. He was very sweet and open, although there was a slight air of awkwardness around the two of you.

He was nice. He talked about his job (although you already knew pretty much everything already), his life back in England, his family and his hobbies, which included...

“Dude, no way you’re building your own. You’re a superstar, why don’t you just buy it?” You snatched a french fry from his plate. He grinned at you.

“I’m just saying, it’s more gratifying that way. I get to decide how it’s done, when it’s done and what’s on there.” You rolled your eyes playfully and crossed your legs.

You were sitting on the floor, snuggling with Kal, who apparently had taken a liking to you, eating french fries and relaxing. The hangover was gone, but you didn’t really want to leave quite yet, finding Henry more and more interesting the longer you talked to him.

You put your hands up in the air.

“Alright, your computer, your time, I suppose.” He laughed, and it made your stomach feel warm - damn, he really was charming.

“Anyway, what do you do? I am really sorry, I didn’t get to ask you when we met… I was slightly preoccupied.” He winked at you, and a flash of a memory of his breath fanning your neck, while he pistoned in and out of you. You clenched your thighs and willed your brain to let that particular memory go way, way back in your brain.

“Uhm, currently? Nothing.” You rubbed your neck slightly. “I was in school, studying drama and literature, but the tuition…” You shook your head and shot him a smile. “Doesn’t really matter. I found a job in a bookshop and I love it. Casual, relaxing and I’m surrounded by books. Nothing better really.” He smiled.

“Ah, may I guess?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Be my guest.”

He folded his hands in his lap and searched your face with an intensity that made you blush.

“I believe you’re a Brontë-fan. I’d venture Jane Eyre is well worn in your home, and…” He looked at your lips for a fraction of a second. Images of his lips on yours flashed by. “I do believe you got hooked on literature after reading The Picture of Dorian Gray.” He leaned back, and you realized just how close he had been - and you exhaled a breath, you didn’t really notice, you’d held back.

“You’re good. Although I did get into classics after reading Madame Bovary. But still close!” He chuckled, a warm, sweet and honeyed sound.

“Madame Bovary… I should have known.”

—--------

A few days had passed since agreeing to do the arrangement with Henry - you were back at your old apartment, packing up some of the stuff you might need over the next few months. You sighed deeply when your eyes graced the contract, Henry's agent had sent you - something like an NDA, but you hadn’t really looked at it yet. It felt weird, being contracted to Henry like that - not that you didn’t understand, but it felt weird to be somewhat forced to spend time with another human.

Your phone binged and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. Henry had texted you.

“Ready for it?” You sighed again. Not really, no.

You quickly packed your bag, throwing whatever in reach inside, and drawing a deep breath, looking around your apartment one more time.

It was the first apartment you ever lived in. It was tiny, a little run down, but it was your home. You weren’t really moving away from it, but leasing out to a student in the city for six months, so you still had somewhat of an income and a place to return to after the whole thing was over.

You texted a thumbs up to Henry, and swung your bag over your shoulder, grabbed a box of books and went outside to wait for the car.

A black SUV with tinted windows pulled up and a stranger got out, grabbed your box of books with a “hmpfh” and smiled at you.

“I’m Steven, Mr. Cavills… Well, anything and everything. Whatever you need, let me know.” You smiled. “Cool, thank you.” He opened the door for you and you slid inside, heart slightly in your throat. Steven got in and started the car, leading you to the weirdest vacation you’ve ever had.

“So… Where are we going?” You asked after 15 minutes. “We’re going to Mr. Cavills beach house, a little ways away. Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. Oh,” he roamed the seat next to him and handed you a binder. “This is stuff, you should know about Mr. Cavill and his schedule. There’s a few things you have to attend in the coming weeks, and hopefully you’ll get some time in between.” You quickly looked over the papers in the binder. Holy shit, he was a busy bee.

“uhm, there’s something about England here…?” You said hesitantly. Steven nodded.

“Yeah, there’s an event. You’ll need to travel.” You sighed. Planes were your enemy.

After two hours, the car finally turned down a small, private road. You glanced out of the window and saw sea and sky and finally, a house. Well, more like a mansion.

“holy fuck.” you whispered under your breath.

It was enormous.

Big windows covered almost the entire front of the house, lightly colored wood made up the exterior, and it looked like it was taken straight out of a magazine. It was beautiful and intimidating all at once.

You stepped out of the car and were instantly met with the scent of the ocean and warm sand. Steven nudged your shoulder gently, leading you to the front door.

Inside was just as beautiful as out - light walls, plants everywhere and lush rugs covered the stone floors.

“Hey.” is soft, warm voice reached you, and you swirled around, meeting Henry's smile and eyes.

“Hi.” you said breathlessly. “I’ll leave you to it.” Steven said kindly before leaving the same way he came from. “Long drive?” Henry asked with an air of worry. You nodded. “Beautiful, though.” He smiled. “Let me show you around.”

After the tour, you both grabbed a glass of wine and sat down on the patio overlooking the blue sea and setting sun. It felt surprisingly serene, sitting next to Henry while the sun set, drinking a very expensive wine with a name you'd probably never be able to pronounce.

“So, Henry…” You put your glass down as Henry turned to you.

“So, Y/N…” he said jokingly.

“I need to get some stuff straight before we really, really start this. Okay?” He nodded seriously.

“Okay, hit me.” You smiled at him.

“So, I really need three things.” He nodded again, turning his body towards you. “Alright. Anything, really.” His voice was like goddamn honey and awfully distracting.

“Okay. So, first of… Uhm, I need to know what’s going on in England next month.” He smiled cautiously.

“Oh. Yeah, um, that’s a thing.” You raised your eyebrows at his tone. He sighed and rubbed his neck, his shirt rising lightly, exposing a very, very pretty and toned stomach.

“So, an old mate of mine is getting married. I would’ve gone alone, even after this arrangement was agreed upon, but…” He glanced at you. “Well, first off, my agent believes it would look weird” he made a face “if I show up without my supposed girlfriend.” You nodded somberly. That made some sense, although you were pretty sure that the old mate would see right through it. “But what’s more… My ex-girlfriend is going to be there.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” You looked at him. He looked sheepish. “We didn’t end on the best of terms, and… Well, I need a buffer. Which, now that I’m saying it out loud, sounds awful.” He smiled slightly apologetically.

“Go on.” You urged. He sighed.

“She’s still… Well, she has a hard time letting go. It got worse after I got bigger roles, and she is somehow under the impression that we’re simply on a break.” You raised an eyebrow. Great. “So, I’d love for you to join me. Not as a part of the contract, but hopefully as a friend.” You nodded.

“Well, that’s a good segway into… Bigger events. You know, stuff that requires fancy dresses and shoes that hurt, good hair and all that. How am I going to do that? I barely get by normally, and the fanciest dress I own is from H&M, which I bought five years ago.” He grinned. “You needn’t worry. Please, let me take care of that, okay?” You grinned. “Am I going to be treated like a princess?” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, the setting sun hitting his dark curls and lighting them up in the most beautiful caramel color.

“Yes, indeed.”

“Cool. Lastly… Should we have some groundrules?” He raised his eyebrow and took a sip of his wine, before leaning closer to you.

“Which groundrules are we discussing?” You felt your cheeks heat up at his closeness. He smelled like warm wood and sunlotion.

“Uhm… Well, anything, really?” you stammered.

He nodded.

“Let’s try it.”

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TAGLIST: @isabellamendes77

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill smut

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softiem · 3 years ago

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you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face.

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

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ynscrazylife · 3 years ago

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Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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kmgoogiemin · 3 years ago

Note

Hi Georgia! Thank god all those tkkrs and antis come to your blog, they opened my eyes, I was so wrong about life but they fixed my misconseptions!

1. Turns out, IG is the only proof of life, at least since 02Dec.2021. As I don't post shit there my personal life in particular is a mysery and in general I'm dead, hello from the other side! That's obviously the only reason jm posts sth once in a while too as much as he don't like it, just to let the world know he's still alive.

2. Celebrities get into relationships based on opinions of internet anons who ship them. I bet that's how tomdaya got together, their agents told them they're being shipped. I can totally see that convo bw jk and tae:

jk: hey, tae, many shippers believe we look good together, so lets have sex and get married!

tae: great news, jk, I feel like I already am pssionately in love with u! Wait, what if I'm not gay?

jk: well u are if ppl say so, hurry up and take ur pants off, ppl on twt say IG selcas mean we f*cked!

3. Twitter trends obviously also prove which ships are real. Like, the more ppl want sb to be together, the bigger the chance those 2 will be together cuz 1) see par.2 and 2) the sheer power of thought, if ur wish is strong enough it comes true, especially if you keep repeating it like a prayer. Jikook trending doesn't count though cuz apparently fanservice, duh.

4. Jikook is definitely a fanservice cuz all we know abt them happened ON cameras, that's how we know anything at all and so their relationship is all fake. Tkk is real cuz all their meaningful moments happen OFF cameras and no one has literally zero proof those moments happened which means they definitely happened, thank god there are smart shippers who could figure that out of thin air. In general this should mean everything all ships do on cameras is fake tkk including and I'm confused but that's probably just cuz I'm not smart enough to understand that.

5. Everybody hates jm, how could I not realise that?! Like, I thought I loved him but that big warm feeling I have towards him must be, in fact, hate (thanks to your anons I know now)! So what if he's been trending on Twitter almost daily for years with thousands of 'jm we love u, u'r amazing thank god u exist' posts, it's simply impossible someone could love him for real! I bet it's all his own manipulations, that's why he barely comes online, he's too f*cking busy juggling multiple accounts writing posts abt himself, he overdone it so much he got his own name muted but that cunning little ass still manages to trend daily with half a dozen other names! Thank god Yoongy his bf sleeps all the time he's off work otherwise their relationship wouldn't last cuz jm barely has time for anything else. Srsly, let this poor guy go already, all those men and women all over the world falling for him don't exist, it's all a big fat lie! And that model who screamed 'jm marry me!' was totally paid by jm.

6. South Korea is apparently a gay paradise with fairies and unicorns, just like in those BL webtoons one can find online where every man is hot and gay and women only exist if they're gay too, I mean, Korean artists drew that so they must be telling the truth, right? Homophobia doesn't exist there, that's why BH covers the real gay couple with the fake gay couple, the only reason celebs don't rush to come out is cuz their nasty companies want them to play straight to milk all those naive female fans who dream of marrying them one day or believe celebs are all saints who gave chastity vows. Actually, homophobia doesn't exist anywhere, so taekook (proven couple cuz see par.2-4) will definitely officially come out very soon (again cuz they took a habit of coming out every week since they got IG, ahh the power of that SM!) you just wait and see. And other ships will follow suit cuz BTS is obviously one big gay circus, see utube edits and wattpad/ao3 ffcs for proof, they're obviously all documentaries.

Phew, I'm sure I missed sth, I mean I'm going through fundamental changes in my head u know so it's easy to forget sth but I'm looking fwd to the new revelations, my life will not be the same!

seeing it all written there kinda is just crazy

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sarah-bae-maas · 3 years ago

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Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 1

In honour of this blog turning five years old, I thought I would treat you all to a two part/chapter Gwynriel fic that has been wandering around in my brain throughout countless days of lockdown and tortuous university classes.

I’m already well underway with part 2 of this fic, but I do have some assignments coming up, so expect it within the fortnight!

So please do enjoy this nearly 15k words worth of Gwynriel goodness <3

Masterlist Ao3

_____________

She was staring at him.

Again.

Azriel had always paid special attention to Gwyn – not that he would tell her that, of course. It was a secret held deep in his shadows that she was his favourite Valkyrie, the one he thought the most brave and resilient. It would not be an unpopular opinion if he did share it, the other women looked at her with great admiration, and Nesta often sung her praises when the female wasn’t there to refute her words. But Azriel knew the presumptions people might make if they knew he thought it, and the last thing he wanted was for a misunderstanding to make Gwyn uncomfortable.

Gwyn was holding a bag for Emerie to kick, her stance strong enough that she didn’t flinch at all with each pummel. Her focus should have been on Emerie’s form, but rather her teal eyes were glued to him. Every time Azriel looked over at her, she quickly shifted her gaze to her friend, but his shadows constantly reminded him that Gwyn was once again paying her attention to him.

Cassian called the end of the session. Azriel was grateful, he was finding it harder and harder to train the women effectively when he knew Gwyn was right there.

He practically fled the scene, his cheeks brushed with red, barely nodding to the women who said their thanks to him as he passed. It’s not that he didn’t like her attention, but it made his stomach feel heavy, his hands shake, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt whenever she looked at him like that.

He settled in the dining room. Standing, he braced his hands on the table, a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead and tarnishing the wood. Nesta wouldn’t like if he got his sweat all over the table, even though her and Cassian had coated it in far more scandalous bodily fluids. He should do something productive, like work or eat or pester Rhys and Feyre to have Nyx for the afternoon, but instead he chose to close his eyes and picture the person who’d been haunting him.

He and Gwyn were friends. She was over nearly every night to eat with Nesta, their dinners a sort of lively Azriel hadn’t experienced since he’d lived in Illyria with Rhys and Cas. It was joyful to live in a space filled with such light, but also overwhelming. Azriel found that as much as he loved the time with the rag-tag team they’d made for themselves, his social timer still clicked in his mind as a constant reminder that sometimes dealing with people, even the ones you loved, could be utterly exhausting.

Not with Gwyn though, his shadows lamented, setting him straight. No, Azriel never felt tired with her.

“Az?”

As though his thoughts alone had summoned her, Gwyn’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He turned, his lips parting slightly at the sight of her.

She was still in her training gear – a shirt and pants lovingly stitched by Emerie with embroidered flowers decorating the seams – her neat braid falling around her face, framing her pearlescent skin in fire.

“Gwyneth. Do you need something?”

Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped in front of her as she wrung her fingers. It made Azriel tilt his head in confusion, not understanding why she was so nervous. They spoke every day, she mouthed off at him often, and her shift in confidence had him surprised.

“I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Azriel raised a brow, leaning back into the table. He spread his hands before him. “I’m listening.”

Gwyn swallowed, her cheeks turning the same shade of red as her hair.

“Imsturbalt,” she squeaked.

“What?”

“I masturbate a lot!” She smacked her hands over her mouth, as if betrayed at the words they spilled.

Azriel’s jaw went slack, his eyes near bugging from his skull. “Okay… that’s good? Self-exploration!” He half-heartedly waved a celebratory fist in the air, not sure what to say to her statement.

She groaned louder than a stabbing victim. “I was thinking that, I didn’t intend to say it aloud.” She rubbed her hands over her face, peeking at him through her fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secrets are safer with me than they are anyone else.” Azriel smiled, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her body. “So, your proposition?”

She tensed her jaw, moving her arms behind and looking at the ground as she spoke. “I guess my previous statement that will never be mentioned again to anyone if you like having the functional use of your organsperhaps wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what I’m going to ask you. But I beg, please let me finish before you say anything, and also don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

“Okay.”

“Silence.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She grinned at him, her eyes finally meeting his again. “As you know, better than anyone really, I have a difficult past.”

Azriel wished he could burn the images of finding her on that table from his mind. He’d had to actively teach himself not to envision her crying and screaming for her sister when she’d first became a permanent fixture in House of Wind. He’s seen many horrific things in his time, was no stranger to the worst humanity had to offer, but it was different when it was someone so vulnerable, so selfless, so important to him. It might have made him a bad person that he didn’t equate people’s trauma accordingly, but how could he possibly care for a stranger as much as he cared for Gwyn?

“What happened to me made me fear my body. Fear the sexuality I see women like Nesta and Mor own. They’re so powerful, and the things that have happened to them… They’re not broken. They’re not less. They’re not afraid.” She paused, sighing deeply. “I would never look upon anyone in the library as lesser than because of the things that have happened to them. It wasn’t until I met Nesta and Emerie that I realised I didn’t give myself the same grace. I want to own the parts of me that were stolen. I want to feel like my body belongs to me. I didn’t even know where to begin, but then the House gave me this book, some fluffy romance novel, and the girl in it was just like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just felt so seen. Like the Mother herself had handed this smut piece into my lap to make me feel better.”

Gwyn moved to one of the lounge chairs that Cassian had haphazardly shoved into a corner one night when Nesta didn’t feel like moving from the dining room. Gwyn was effortlessly graceful as she sat and curled her legs up, her head resting on her fist.

“That’s where the masturbating comes in.” Her eyes avoided his again, focusing on patterns her fingers drew in the velvet material of the chair. “The girl in the book did it. She’d never had an orgasm either. So, I did too.” She laughed quietly. “It made me feel good. Not just the physical pleasure part, but the part where it was just me, empowering myself at a pace I was comfortable with.”

Azriel wished he could say something, but one, he knew to be silent and let her have this moment, and two, he didn’t know how to tell someone he was proud of them for touching themselves without it sounding weird. He was proud though, extremely so, at how strong she felt from acting on her wants. Her resilience had always astounded him.

“In the book, the girl meets this man.” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper. “He treats her so kindly, in a way that I’ve seen Cassian treat Nesta a million times, in a way I yearn to be treated. I’ve given myself a clean slate. This body, my body, has only been touched by me. I am whole. I was never broken, just healing. And I’m at a stage where I want more. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Azriel wished her could say yes, please the eager note in her voice that hoped he was on the same page as her, but even his shadows were silent to her desires.

She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head. She tipped her head back. “When Nesta first started sleeping with Cassian, I was so curious. What were they doing? What was he doing to make her look so satisfied? But when I tried to picture it, my stomach would churn. And then time passed. I grew stronger. I became a Valkyrie. And like many others before me and many more in the centuries to come, I walked in on Cassian and Nesta fucking.”

Azriel inhaled sharply. To hear the vulgarity fucking from a mouth so pure sent a bolt through him, and he chided himself for his inappropriate thoughts during such a serious conversation.

“They don’t know I saw, not that I think they would have minded. I would bet good money that if I asked for a demonstration on pleasurable acts Cassian and Nesta would be more than happy to comply. Where I might have once felt sick from seeing them, instead I felt-”

She cut herself off, looking for the right words.

“I felt burning desire. I’ve never been so envious of someone in my life. I didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but by the Cauldron I wanted to feel the way that Nesta did. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know you were such a good secret keeper. Or such a good friend.”

Azriel couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Gwyn, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

***

Azriel stared at his ceiling, his shadows dancing and rolling around him.

I want you to have sex with me.

He tested the words on his own lips. They tasted sweet. They also brought an uncomfortable amount of pressure to his cock. He refused to touch it though and kept both his hands firmly behind his head.

He’d told Gwyn he needed to think about it, and she understood. She said she didn’t expect an answer from him straight away.

Azriel had a lot to consider.

He was practically titillated that when Gwyn had decided she wanted to explore herself with a male, it was him who she thought of. She expressed that it was because she knew he’d care for her, that he’d respect her and because of how much she trusted him. There were not words to express how hearing such things felt to him. It made him want to do this for her, because his soul be damned he knew he would do right by her. Make her feel good, feel special, feel appreciated.

It would be amiss though not to acknowledge that if he did do this, let her warm his bed while he tasted her, it could ruin not just the friendship they had established but also the dynamic of the house. She had assured him that if his answer was no, they would continue their lives as if the conversation never happened.

Which brought a darker thought to his mind.

If not Azriel, then who? She would surely approach someone else. Someone not deserving of her, who might not treat her how she deserved to be treated. That was not to say Azriel thought that in all his bastardly ways he was what Gwyn should have – no, she deserved more than he could ever give – but at least he knew that she would be safe with him.

The thought of another male’s hands on her made him see red.

That was answer enough.

***

Nesta and Cassian were gone for the weekend, caring for Nyx while Feyre and Rhys had a romantic getaway for the weekend. Azriel secretly thought Nesta was using this as a trial to see if her and Cassian were ready for a baby.

It was the perfect opportunity to have Gwyn join him.

The day after she’d approached him, he’d slipped her a note after training to say that he was all in, and to meet him the next night. He tried not to watch her face as she read the note but couldn’t help it. She went bright pink, but she seemed exhilarated.

And now she was standing in his room.

They nervously looked at each other. Azriel wanted to give her the chance to speak first other than their obligatory greetings, but she was tongue-tied.

“I was thinking we should take this in steps,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her refrain from pacing back and forth.

“That seems logical. What sort of steps?”

“I was thinking tonight we take sex off the table.”

“What?” Her face fell, hurt evident in her expression.

“Just for tonight. Gwyn, have you had your first kiss?”

She shook her head no.

“Then maybe we do that. And anything beyond only what you want. I need you to know that you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is completely your decision.”

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “That sounds reasonable. Like you’re my little puppet.” Her hands mimed using a marionette, and Azriel found it easy to reciprocate her smile.

She moved to his side, planting herself on the bed next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the how good she smelled, how carefully her hair had been arranged and how she’d worn her nicest dress. She had wanted to look good for him, and the thought made his heart squeeze.

He reached out and held the hands she clasped in her lap. It made her look at him, her teal eyes flashing in the room only lit by his fireplace.

“You’re a very good friend, Azriel.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Gwyn?”

She nodded, turning her body to face him.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then her lips, before he settled on cradling her face. She leant her head into his hand, so trusting as she looked at him. His hand was so big that the fingers that lay on her neck could feel her hammering pulse.

She leant in the same time he did.

At first it was just a peck. Their lips brushing against each other’s so gently it made Azriel ache. He pressed his lips to her again, and again, getting her used to the feeling of his lips on hers. She enthusiastically reciprocated, her slender fingers running up his chest before meeting behind his head, tangling themselves in his hair. He smiled against her mouth, pleased at such a reaction when the real kissing had yet to even start.

His grazed his tongue along her lip, and she eagerly opened her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside her. The noise she made at the contact buzzed straight through him, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwyn, in all her eagerness, took control of him.

She kissed him as though she had done it her whole life, like her mouth belonged on his, and the feel of her delicate tongue made him deepen their kiss, angling her head so they could better feel one another. She was practically leaning back, and if this had been a meaningless one night stand she’d have been on her back by now with Azriel’s mouth between her thighs.

She broke away from him, his mouth instinctively following hers as it wanted more, making her gleam in pride.

“I want to change positions,” she said, her hands still wired into his hair.

“Anything you want,” he replied breathlessly.

Azriel didn’t know what to expect, but it was not her getting up and crawling into his lap. She straddled his thighs, and there was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel his erection pressing against her. He did with his hands what any male would do in this situation, and her giggle was enough to know that she’d wanted him to do that.

“Your hands are on my ass,” she laughed.

“Is that okay?”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath. “Take your shirt off. Please.”

He obliged.

“And you should – you should take off my dress too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a slip on underneath.”

His hands shook slightly as they ran up her sides and to her back, undoing each button on her dress. To give her a more authentic experience, he decided to lean in as he did, kissing a new spot on her neck with each button that came undone.

She raised her arms so that he could slip the dress over her head, and he averted his eyes when her slip rode up with it. He didn’t look back until she had adjusted herself. When he did, he nearly fainted.

She was divine in her beauty. He always saw lovely she was, anyone with eyes would. Her body was lean and tight. Her uniform may have hidden it, but she had the power of any warrior in her body. Azriel wondered if she purposefully hid her strength so that it was a secret part of her arsenal. Smart female.

He ran his hands up her spread legs before planting them back on her ass. Unable to resist, he squeezed his hands, making her groan.

“Your hands feel so good,” she gasped. “Do everyone’s hands feel like that, or is it just you?”

He snickered. “Anyone who is worth their weight knows how to make a female feel good.” He bumped her shoulder with his nose. “What would you like me to do now? Do you want to keep kissing?”

“Fuck yes I want to keep kissing.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. “But maybe we could do other things. Even better things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Gwyn reached behind her and grabbed one of the hands resting on her behind. For the first time since they’d started, she looked nervous. Her legs were shaking, and Azriel was unsure if it was anxiety or anticipation for whatever she had planned.

She guided his hand under his slip until he was cupping her sex.

“You aren’t.” He swallowed hard. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

She shook her head playfully. “I didn’t think I would need to.”

She pressed his hand into her, and he moaned at the wetness he found. She was so slick for him already, and all they had done was kiss. He did an exploratory brush through her folds, and as at the tip of his finger grazed over her clit, she arched into him, holding on tight to his shoulders.

He started teasing her, obsessed with the little noises she was making at the back of her throat as he did, but he soon realised something.

Usually, when Azriel was with a female, they got progressively more… turned on. Their bodies would react to his touch, and his fingers would be coated in their juices before he even attempted to enter them with either his fingers or his cock.

Gwyn was not.

It seemed the more he touched her, the more it was like her body didn’t want this. For all intents and purposes, she was… drying up?

His hand went still, and he could feel her body instinctively relaxing as his hand left her pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“You don’t enjoy this.” He made her look him in the eye, and his throat tightened at how she looked. There were tears lining her eyes and a deep furrow on her forehead.

“I do, I promise I do. I’m just nervous. If we – if we just overcome this one thing-”

“No, Gwyn.”

“Please Azriel,” she said desperately, trying to guide his hand back between her thighs.

As gently as he could, he lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the bed. Her breath shuddered, and he couldn’t bear the shattered look on her face.

She didn’t say a word, just stood up and tried to locate her dress. Azriel didn’t even know where he had thrown it, but he stood and stopped her from looking anyway.

“Gwyn…” He grasped her hands in his, towering over her as they faced each other. “I want to do this for you, please believe me when I say that. But maybe we just need to take a few more steps first. Do something else before that.”

“What else is there?” She was dejected, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m doing Az. And I swear on the Cauldron I want this. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m just so nervous, and I get in my head about everything I do-”

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the ropable tension in her body started to ease out. She slumped against him, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. “This is fine. Great, even.”

“You are such a liar.” She sighed, but at least she returned his embrace, tucking herself into him so they were as close as possible.

He tried to think of ways to salvage the night for her, to give her at least a little bit of what she wanted.

An idea sprang to mind.

“Gwyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Get on the bed. Lie down.”

She looked up at him hopefully. She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically flung herself at the bed, laying down on her back and resting her arms above her head. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the way she clenched her thighs together than spread them apart like a silent invitation.

Azriel couldn’t help but brighten at her enthusiasm. He undid the buttons on his pants and kicked them down so he was naked before her.

“I thought we weren’t having sex!” She jolted to her side, holding herself up on her arms and staring at his penis, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the sight of it.

There were many things Azriel did not like about himself. But he had a damn fine cock.

He laughed at the look on her face and shook his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not even going to touch you.”

She deflated. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He followed her to the bed, climbing over her without touching her and planting himself next to her so they were lying side to side. He turned his head to her, and she looked at him curiously.

“We’re not just going to lie here naked, are we? It’s a bit cold for that.”

It was a little chilly. Her nipples were hard under her slip, which had ridden up to her stomach.

“No, but we can get under the blanket if you want.”

Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m happy above the blanket.”

They laid in a comfortable silence for a moment, happily taking in each other’s bodies. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, and he was glad to see that their kissing antics had left her dishevelled. He liked that look on her.

“Are you actually not going to touch me?”

“I’m not. I think you should touch yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll touch myself, too. It’ll be a way for us to be more comfortable with each other. For you to be in control of your pleasure.”

“Will you watch me?” she murmured.

“If that’s okay. You can watch me, too.”

She considered his words, and Azriel wondered if this was in fact not the good idea he’d thought he’d had. She pursed her lips, and he knew her answer when she grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it off, leaving her naked before him.

They stared into each other’s eyes as her hand brushed over her exposed breasts, and Azriel had to hold himself back from taking them in his mouth, from pinching her perked nipples with his teeth. Maybe later, that could come; he thought she would quite like it.

Her right hand kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple while her left dipped down between her legs. Two fingers ran over her core, and he studied the way she massaged herself so that he could do it to her in the future. At the sight, he tentatively grasped his cock, wanting to make sure that she was truly okay with him touching himself at the vision of her with her fingers dipping inside her, moistening herself before focusing on her clit.

Her eyes flickered to his stroking hand, and her response nearly made him finish then and there like a teenager exploring themselves for the first time. She’d seen him, and lifted her leg so that it was draped over one of his, giving her a better angle on her clit and twining them together.

“I’m used to being quiet,” she shuddered. “So that no one hears me.”

“Be as loud as you want. Scream for me.”

Her hand quickened, and his sack tightened as he matched her speed with his own hand, gripping himself tightly. He moaned so loudly that he was once again thankful that Cassian and Nesta weren’t in the house. Even the magic of the walls mightn’t contain the pleasure pulsing through him as he watched her.

Her legs started to shake, and the little noises she’d made before were no more. Her voice was loud as she no longer held herself back from feeling even ounce of her impending orgasm.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her hips starting to gyrate against her hand.

“You. All I can think of is you,” Azriel moaned. He pumped himself quicker, his grip becoming harder.

“What about you,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you thinking about what you saw Cassian do to Nesta?”

Her toes curled at his words. “I’m thinking of what I saw them doing, but it’s you and me.”

“What are we doing, Gwyneth?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue licked her lips before she bit down on them. “We’re in the library. You have me bent over one of the desks, and you’re taking me from behind. One of your arms is around me, and you’re flicking my clit as I scream your name. You’re so deep in me, Azriel, I can feel every inch of you as I clench around you. Cauldron, you feel so good. The best thing I’ve ever felt, Az.”

His breath hitched, and he felt himself on the brink of coming. What finally did him in was her teeth biting down on his shoulder as she screamed his name, her orgasm making her whole body shake as it overcame over.

When they had both come down from their highs, they laid trying to catch their breath, both their bodies covered in sweat.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, turning to face him.

He grabbed a corner of the unused blanket beneath them to wipe himself off, then turned to face her, an arm going around her waist and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and cheek.

He wanted to look at her body, finally relaxed and languid, but his shadows had another idea. They bathed over her like silk, dancing over her curves and crevices, making her laugh.

“I quite like them,” she said, her eyes starting to drift closed.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhmm.” She snuggled into him further, stealing his warmth. His cock responded to her touch, but it was too soon yet to do anything meaningful.

“Move up for a sec.”

“Is that you trying to hint that I should go?” Her voice was joking, but the look on her face said that she’d go if he wanted her too.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here with me. I’m just grabbing the blanket.”

She moved away just long enough for him to pull the blankets over them and pull her to his chest again.

She made a content noise and closed her eyes to sleep, and Az thought to himself that he didn’t care if this one day ended their friendship, because it might very well be the best time of his life anyway.

***

The next two weeks were filled with them sneaking away and feverishly touching themselves in all sorts of ways. Once, Gwyn sat in his lap naked while they stroked themselves, kissing each other the entire time. Another time, she pleasured herself by grinding against his thigh and he palmed himself – they hadn’t even bothered to take their clothes off. A late-night training session had led to her using a particularly shaped massage tool on herself in very a scandalous way while he watched, near feral at the sight of her pumping into herself. He did not return that item to the training ring, instead he kept it in his bedside drawer for future use.

It wasn’t until sixteen days and countless orgasms into their agreement that Azriel was finally able to touch her.

It had been a busy night. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor and Emerie were over for dinner, and it had been the most fun Az had had in a group since last solstice. At the table, he’d had Feyre on one side and Gwyn on the other, and her little secret touches to his thigh made him feel warm all over.

It wasn’t necessarily an arousing touch, just an affectionate one. When the group had started to disperse to drink, Nesta the sober adult taking care of Nyx, Az noticed Gwyn sneak away. He promptly followed her, making sure everyone was distracted as he did so no one noticed what they were doing.

Within a few minutes he was between her thighs tasting her. She had mentioned the night before that she wanted his tongue on her, and by the Cauldron was he happy to oblige. She was sitting on the edge of desk in the library that she’d described to him all those weeks ago, and whilst on his knees before her, he jerked himself off as she crumbled beneath his mouth.

Thankfully, by the time they returned, people were far too tipsy to question where they’d been.

Except for Nesta, who looked suspiciously between the two of them. Whatever she was thinking, it was at Gwyn’s behest if she knew anything. It was her decision, always, what happened between them, and if she wanted people to know about their sneakiness, that was for her to decide.

Seven days later is when she first touched him. Until that point it had all been about her, which is what Azriel wanted. They were on his bed, his fingers deep inside her as they kissed, when her hand brushed against his cock. He moved his hips aside, and she broke their kiss off with a noise of indignation.

“Stop swatting my hands away!” She flicked his nose with her finger.

“Huh?” He was still dazed on the sound of his hand gliding through her dripping wet core.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Her voice was curt.

“I just want this to be about you. I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for my own sexual gratification. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, my soul purpose is you. You’re my priority.” He kissed her neck. “My desires are your desires.” Another kiss. “I can’t focus if you’re anything less than panting and satisfied.”

She pursed her lips, a familiar expression at this point. It turned into a joyful smile, and she smacked a kiss to his lips. “That was actually very sweet. After I get you off, I’m going to sit on your face.”

What was even better than the heavy petting and intense make out sessions was the talking. Sometimes for hours they would just tangle themselves together and divulge their life stories. Azriel knew all about her sister and mother – Gwyn confessing that she felt guilt when her twin wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, but sometimes she pushed her away because the memory of her was overwhelmingly devastating. Az wiped her tears away, desperate to see her smile again. But he also knew of all the good times she’d had growing up, and it made him feel alight inside to know how loved she was. Az told her mostly of Rhys and Cassian and the family they had made for themselves, about how it was so hard to be away from his mother, but he wouldn’t have survived another day in his father’s presence. Gwyn cried for him sometimes, and Azriel had never known such empathy from another.

When they were alone in the House, Nesta and Cassian off on one of their sexcations, Gwyn would spend her evenings and nights with him just as a friend, doing housework and menial tasks that she didn’t have to while humming various tunes. Az would tell her to stop working, but she would just grin and say she liked feeling like part of a home too much to not pretend that she lived there too. So he would just hum with her, his shadows dancing and swaying the way they always inevitably did around her. Then they would fall into bed together (or any surface really) until they were spent and exhausted.

Azriel had never known happiness like this.

***

Azriel was buzzing with excitement. He’d left Gwyn wrapped up in his bed, the sun not yet risen, and made sure to leave her some breakfast on his nightstand and the fire burning to keep her warm without his body next to hers. Usually he would wake her up early with his head between her thighs so she could go back to the library, but she had already told the acolytes she roomed with that she would be staying with Nesta, so no need to sneak around when no one was expecting her.

Before they’d gone to sleep the night before, Gwyn said something to him that left him smiling even now as he made his way to Rhys.

I want to have sex, Az. I’m sure. I know I’m safe with you.

Az didn’t know why Rhys needed him, but if it involved leaving Velaris, he would barter for a few more days so that he might be with Gwyn before he left. An odd feeling entered his chest at the thought. He couldn’t name the feeling; he just knew he didn’t want to leave Gwyn alone.

He landed on the doorstep of Feyre and Rhys’ home. Before he had the chance to let himself in, Feyre opened the door, a grave look on her face.

“Quick. Before they start yelling.” Feyre pinched her nose, the other hand holding Nyx on her hip.

Azriel pushed past her, and it wasn’t hard to find the source of Feyre’s frustration.

“Once again you fucking asshole, you need to back off. How dare you-”

“Nes, calm down-”

“Tell me to calm down again Cassian and I’m out of here. As I was saying, how fucking dare you accuse her of such things, Rhysand, High Lord of Shitting me up the Wall.”

“Nesta, for fuck’s sake you’re getting defensive for no reason!”

“No reason?!” she spat, Cassian holding her back before she lunged at Rhys.

“Too late,” Feyre muttered at him as she walked into the office, sitting at the desk to remain neutral in Nesta and Rhysand’s pissing match. Azriel would love to know what had riled them up so much that they were nearly screaming at each other, but any guidance from his brothers was not there.

“You have to admit that it’s suspicious, Nesta!”

Rhys threw his arm at Azriel as he approached, looking triumphant. “Azriel will agree with me.”

“He will not.”

“May I ask what I might need to agree to, or will it remain a mystery as to why you’re yelling so early in the morning?” Az crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to stop acting like children.

“Rhys accused Gwyn of being a spy,” Nesta growled.

“You’re twisting my words! I said I’d had reports of her acting strange, of her behaviour being completely different, and I suggested that it was worth looking into. We have to consider the safety of Velaris, and Gwyn would be the perfect plant.”

Azriel was sure Rhys was going to say more, but he was interrupted by Azriel’s uncontrollable fit of laughter. His laughs shook his whole body, and he felt tears in his eyes from how hard his fit was hitting him. He had to bend over to try and catch his breath, clutching at his chest as though his lungs might leap out of it.

“What’s so funny,” Rhys deadpanned.

Azriel shook his head and walked to Nesta, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you serious, Rhys? Gwyn? Gwyenth Berdara?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Both Clotho and Merrill have approached me. Clotho, because she was worried, and Merrill, because she thought that Gwyn was being insubordinate. Clotho has had multiple girls come to her in fear for Gwyn, saying she’s been disappearing at night and coming back early in the morning. They she’s tired, unfocused, and that she’s exceeding every expectation they had for her in training and acting like a different person in the library. This has all been reported over the last month.” Rhys picked Nyx out of Feyre’s arms to calm himself before continuing. “Gwyn knows incredibly sensitive information about us. She helped us with the Trove, she treats the House of Wind like she bloody lives there. She’s awfully comfortable for a person who previous to knowing us refused to leave the library.”

Any humour Azriel felt had been leeched from his body. Nesta’s verbal beating of Rhys had been justified and then some.

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself,” he bit at his brother.

Feyre made a noise in the back of her throat and took Nyx back from Rhys before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Too much swearing for such little ears! she said into their minds as she was leaving.

“What the fuck, Az?” Rhys looked startled.

“I knew he’d side with me,” Nesta said smugly.

“She’s ‘awfully comfortable?’ Yeah, she is, because she found a fucking family. Nesta is like a sister to her, and she’s over at the House a lot not because she’s entitled, but because we want her there. You might not make that much of an effort with Nesta’s friends because of your own personal shit, but Cassian and I consider her a close friend. Accusing her of anything unbecoming, to me, is as bad as if you’d dragged me in here to tell me Cassian was working against us. You sound ludicrous. Also, need I remind you, it’s not your fucking House anymore. Who we have over is none of your damned business.”

Rhys scoffed. “It’s not your House either.”

“Sorry, High Lord Rhysand, I’ll manage my expectations.” Az clenched his jaw at Rhys’ words. He was right. Azriel didn’t technically have any property, neither had Cassian until Rhys had given Nesta the House as a mating gift. Azriel didn’t technically have a home beyond the sky, nothing worth giving to or sharing with another person. Even now, Gwyn was waiting for him in a bedroom that technically wasn’t is. He wouldn’t dare leave though, not when he knew it was one of only two places that Gwyn felt safe in.

“Why are you getting so defensive? You know what I’m saying is reasonable.”

“It would be if we didn’t know her. She is… there are not words to describe her.”

“Yes, there is,” Nesta piqued. “She is competitive. She is feisty. She’s a Valkyrie. She is the kindest soul in Velaris. She is so brave, and strong, and the most selflessly loving person I’ve met in my entire life. If you weren’t so thick headed, you would see that she’s like Feyre in a lot of ways.” Nesta paused. She left Azriel’s side to stand in front of Rhys, her shoulders back and her head high. “If you accuse her of something it would break her heart. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her, Nesta.” Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’re so convinced that nothing is going on, can you explain her strange behaviour.”

Nesta turned away from Rhys, so that he couldn’t see her face. When Nesta looked over at Azriel, she didn’t need to say a single word for him to know that she knew the exact reason Gwyn was acting different.

It was because of him.

“I don’t need to explain it because I trust her. I’m also with her nearly every minute of every day. Do you not think I would not notice if she was conniving against us? Or are you truly that foolish?”

“I agree with Nesta,” Cassian said. “She’s either with us training the Valkyries, or she’s working with Nesta in the library. Who cares if she’s a little distracted, we all are sometimes.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Rhys directed his question at Azriel, almost as if he couldn’t trust Cassian and Nesta to be impartial because of how close they were to Gwyn. Huh. If only he knew.

“I have never been surer of anything.”

***

“Azriel, wait.”

Azriel was stalking through the front gardens. He would walk until his head was clear, then he would go home – go to the House of Wind – and spend the morning with Gwyn. Nesta had other plans.

“What is it?”

“Gwyn-”

“-will be safe. I won’t let Rhys near her.”

“I’m not worried about that. What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not blind. All the things Rhys described? Sure, might be espionage, but it might also just be someone falling in love.”

“We’re not together.” Love? What a preposterous thought. Gwyn had been very clear from the beginning in what she wanted from him. She needed someone to fulfil her physical needs, and Azriel was happy to do so. All the other stuff, the talking and friendship, was just icing.

“Then what are you doing? Setting yourselves up to get hurt?”

“This is a conversation you should have with her.”

“She trusts you so much, Az. Please, don’t do anything that would hurt her. She’s come so far since we met.”

“Nesta, I promise you I couldn’t dream of hurting her. The thought alone makes me feel visceral pain. What we do, what we are, is just her making decisions and doing what she wants. How did you even know there was something going on?”

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guessed she had a flirtation with someone. I knew it was you from the way she started saying your name.”

Azriel felt his eyes burn, but he did not know why. “The way she says my name?”

“I’ve heard the way she says it a million times. From Cassian and I. From Rhys and Feyre. I can’t describe it beyond that.”

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted where he stood. “Have you told Cas?”

“I don’t need to, he knows.”

“So you guys have talked about it?”

“No. I haven’t told him that I know. But I know he knows. And he also knows I know.”

“So he knows you know even though you haven’t told him you know and you know he knows even though he hasn’t said he knows?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. Her smile was more genuine now. It was a look she’d only had since her mating ceremony. It sung contentment, something she, like him, struggled to have.

She came to him and linked their arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Her friendship was invaluable to him, as much as it was a surprise when it first started to form.

“I have one other thing to say, and then I’ll let you go home to Gwyn.”

“Yes, Nesta?”

“The House of Wind is as much as your home as it is mine. You can stay there forever if you want. It is your home, Azriel, and I wouldn’t dream of it being anything else.”

***

Gwyn was awake when Azriel returned home. She was humming a song to herself in bed, wrapped in his blankets like it was a cocoon. She had the breakfast he made for her in her lap, and when he entered the room, she pulled the blanket aside and opened her arms for him to fall into to.

Maybe he still looked stormy after his talk with Rhys, or maybe she just wanted to hold him. Either way, he fell happily into her embrace.

***

Gwyn had set a date. She did not intend to be so clinical about it, she just wanted to give herself a chance to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and she needed a few days to do so.

The month she’d had with Azriel had been… Cauldron, she did not know how to exactly describe it. When she had approached him, she honestly did not think that he would say yes to such a ridiculous idea. But he had, and he’d given her nothing short of the best month of her life. Her cheeks ached from how much she was smiling, and even if she was tired when she worked, she wouldn’t give up her restless nights for anything.

It would also be remiss for her to not acknowledge that perhaps what she had with him was more than an arranged bargain, but any time the thoughts propped up she promptly put them to the side.

She had not gone to see Az last night, needing the time to do extra work so that she could be missed for a day. Or two. Maybe even three.

Gwyn didn’t know how long this marathon might last, but if it were anything like Nesta and Cassian’s, it could be a while.

She had also warned Clotho and the females she shared her room with that she would be staying at the House of Wind for a few days. When asked why, she just said she was doing something with Emerie without going into any detail.

So, tonight it was. She was ready.

She was so fucking ready.

The moment dinner was served in the library she made a run for it, having to physically restrain herself from skipping out of the library. She was so excited, her body literally vibrating with energy, that she didn’t even see Nesta before their bodies slammed together.

They went to a ground in a tangled fumble, and Nesta was too busy laughing to listen to Gwyn’s repeated apologies. The brisk evening air greeted them, the stars starting to peek through the violet dusk as they laid on the path that took them from the library to the training area to the House.

“Well, you made looking for you much easier,” Nesta said, brushing off her dress as she stood. She offered Gwyn a hand, which she gladly took. Nesta started walking towards the House, their hands not dropping as they swung them between them like children.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Emerie is here with Mor and Feyre. I wanted you to join us for dinner.”

“I have dinner with you every night.”

“I know, but I wanted you to know that you’re not just welcome but also invited.”

Gwyn smiled at Nesta, love for her friend filling her heart.

They approached the House, Nesta’s face falling as they walked in and saw Rhys standing in the middle of the room, confused looks on the faces of Mor and Emerie as everyone just looked uncomfortable.

Nesta’s hands squeezed Gwyn’s, and for just a second it felt like Nesta was about to pull Gwyn right back to the library.

“I’m not sure what the problem is,” Mor said slowly. “We go out in Velaris all the time, why can’t we tonight?”

“You’re more than welcome to, I would just rather stay here,” Azriel replied.

Gwyn knew the look on his face. It was the same look he’d had a few days ago when he’d returned from Mother knows where after Rhys summoned him. Gwyn assumed Azriel had just had to do one of the many hard tasks expected of a spymaster, but perhaps there was something else if his face was a mirror of that again now.

“What’s going on?” asked Nesta.

They all turned to look at them like they were surprised to see them. Not even Azriel had noticed their entrance, although Gwyn self-admitted that Azriel tended to be surprised by her sudden appearances quite often. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought maybe his shadows didn’t bother warning him when she was near. It’s not like she was a danger to the guy.

“Rhys came and said we should try the new restaurant on the Rainbow! The one near Feyre’s studio? I’ve heard really nice things about it, and the family that opened it are really beautiful.” Mor beamed at them all, trying to disperse the odd tension. “And then maybe we could go dancing.”

The idea sounded wonderful, and Gwyn wistfully wished she could join them. In reality, just the thought of going into the city set her heard racing. The only time she had ever left the library or the House, other than to go to Emerie’s house which landed them in the Bloodrite, was to officiate Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. Although the memory was one of her most treasured ones, it was not something she thought she would be able to do again. Not yet.

“I’ve heard great things about that place,” Nesta replied, her stomach audibly grumbling at just hearing about the exquisite food it might receive.

“You are all more than welcome to go.” Azriel swept a hand out between them. “But I don’t want to.”

His gaze flickered to Gwyn, and suddenly the eyes of everyone were on her.

A blanket of understanding washed over the room. Most eyes were understanding, Mor’s held the pity that Gwyn hated, and Rhys looked indifferent, if not satisfied.

Azriel’s resistance became evident. It wasn’t just that it was the night, their night, but he didn’t want her to be left alone whilst everyone else galivanted through the city having the time of their lives when they knew she wouldn’t be able to join them.

“I don’t want to go either. It’s been a long week and I’m tired,” said Nesta.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at her lying sister but couldn’t hold it in her heart to be angry. In face, she had to stop it from swelling with how loving their words felt. They didn’t want her to be alone. They wanted to stay with her.

“You know,” spoke Emerie softly, “I can’t imagine anywhere making food as well as the House.”

Mor’s eyes shot to Emerie, and Gwyn wondered if she was imagining the slight betrayed look in them.

“Guy’s, c’mon. Rhys and I made a reservation, they’re expecting us! It would be rude not to go,” Mor pleaded.

Azriel opened his mouth to snap back, but Gwyn interrupted. “She’s right. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“But Gwyn-”

“It’s okay, Nesta. Please, I really think you should all go.” She made a point to look at Azriel. “It sounds like it would be a lot of fun.”

“It’s not fair to arrange activities that we can’t all participate in.” Azriel’s voice had softened as he looked at her, and if she didn’t have better self-control she would stride over and plant a kiss on his pouting lips.

“How could Mor have known that Gwyn would be here? It’s not her fault,” Rhys interjected.

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard-”

“Stop, just stop.” Gwyn clutched her hands in front of her and stepped away from Nesta. She needed them to see her as an adult, as someone who was strong and to be taken seriously. “It’s fine. Really, truly. I have a lot to do anyway.” She turned to Feyre and waved her fingers at Nyx. “If you would like, I can take care of him so you can enjoy some grown-up time.”

For a second Feyre looked hopeful, but then she schooled her face into neutrality. Rhys stepped between the two, and Feyre had to put an arm on his shoulder.

As if to stop him stepping any further.

Gywn blinked, feeling like she should blanch away but not sure as to why.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rhys said. She’d heard him use that voice before. It was his political voice. His I-have-an-agenda voice. Now it was her turn to look confused.

“No worries,” Gwyn whispered.

She looked away from the High Lord’s searing gaze and back to her friends. She hoped her face didn’t speak of her sadness.

“Please go. I would feel awful if any of you stayed on my part. If anything, by going and having a great time you’d be doing me a favour, because I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You could always just come with us,” Mor said, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that was comically similar to how the ‘popular’ girls in her smutty books would behave.

Gwyn bit her lip, thinking about it. Of course, logically, she would be safe. They would all be there, Azriel would be there, but she genuinely felt like she might vomit at the thought. A bead of sweat dripped down her back, and she despised how her eyes stung with tears. She breathed the way her and Nesta had learnt from Valkyrie texts and pulled herself back to reality. Sometimes the logic of actions did not dictate how you would feel, or react, to a situation. Gwyn reminded herself once more to be kinder to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, Mor, but I am happy here.” Gwyn smiled brightly at them all, and they seemed to relax – all but Az and her sisters.

She shooed them out of the House, hoping that one day she would be able to join them.

***

It was odd. Gwyn had spent much time over the last few years alone, but it had never affected her. And although the House was quite good company – it had dinner and dessert ready for her with a box of tissues and chocolates even before Cassian had finally flown off with the resistant Nesta – it wasn’t the same as spending time with someone who could talk back to you.

She only just made it through her meal when she crawled into Azriel’s bed, hoping the scent of him would make her feel better.

It didn’t, but the sight of his room did. There were unlit candles lining the room, and flowers adorning every surface. The cheeky male had even installed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and she blushed profusely at the implications.

He had tried to make it romantic, and she adored him for it.

She had no idea when he would be back, and she scolded herself for wishing it would be sooner rather than later. She wanted him to be out and about with his family, even if it made her burn with envy that everyone would be able to enjoy him but her.

She rolled over, stuffing her face into his pillow and groaning. She should take off her day clothes and resign herself to pyjamas. Maybe she should sleep in a different bedroom so as to not torture herself with what this night could have been.

Her night with Az. The night with Az.

“That’s it. I am so over this,” she said aloud before springing up. She stomped out of the room and towards Nesta’s, flinging her closet open to inspect her clothes.

It was just a restaurant. It was safe. She would be fine. Besides, how could she overcome her fears if not to face them? She had gone to Emerie’s and survived. She had gone to Nesta’s mating ceremony and survived. She had won the bloody Bloodrite!

As she looked through the dresses, she quickly realised they wouldn’t fit. They would hang loose at her hips and chest, where Nesta was beautifully endowed and she was not.

“Not to worry, I’ll just take a coat then.” Taking the first one she saw, light but soft enough that warmth wouldn’t be an issue, Gwyn shoved her shoes on approached the door that led to the ten thousand steps that would take her to Velaris. She didn’t know where to go from there, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would be able to find her friends with enough willpower. And since meeting Nesta and Emerie, since being empowered by the strongest females she knew and since empowering herself, she knew she had that willpower in abundance.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

***

She didn’t know at what point the House had left her, its omnipresence not connected to the stairs, but she was doing just fine even if she felt its absence. She counted in her head to keep track of where she was.

One thousand. Feeling good. Coat in arms.

Two thousand. Out of breath but in a good way.

Three thousand. Fucking shit.

Four thousand. Maybe she should turn around.

Five thousand.

Six thousand. How has Nesta done this multiple times?

Seven thousand. She had this! This was easier than Ramiel!

Eight thousand. If she died here no one would find her.

Nine thousand.

Ten. Fucking. Thousand.

Gwyn realised that there was no way she’d be able to eat with them. They would be having dessert if they hadn’t already moved on. She just needed to find them.

As Gwyn took the last step, her toes touched the streets of Velaris for the very first time.

It was so beautiful she thought she might cry. There was colour everywhere, the laughter of adults and children alike, and she could smell delicious food as the many restaurant’s wide-open doors let the scents pour into the streets. The faelights lining the streets reminded her of the stars she often gazed at with Azriel, the thought of him like a caress to her mind.

Azriel loved Velaris, would die for this city if he had to. How could she been afraid of something he loved so much?

She took one step. Then one more. She was sure to anyone that glanced her way she must have looked like a lunatic, her eyes wide in wonder as she moved at a snail’s pace, Nesta’s coat bundled in her arms because after all those steps she didn’t need it.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, equal parts fear and excitement, as she walked through the city. She got a few odd looks, but she could see it was out of curiosity for a newcomer in a city that had been locked down for centuries, and not for violence. She wasn’t leered at or bothered. In fact, the only time someone even talked to her was when a toddler sprinted from his mother’s side, his legs too quick for his body to keep up, and he fell into her.

The mother apologised profusely but Gwyn didn’t care at all. How could she be mad at the pudgy little baby?

It was easy to find her way to a district clearly dedicated to all things food. If possible, she slowed down even more. She peeked inside every restaurant looking for the four sets of wings that would set her friends apart from everyone else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of searching but was probably closer to forty minutes, she saw them.

Azriel and Rhys were standing outside the restaurant Mor must’ve been talking about. Light and music drifted from its open windows, the streets still full of roaming people. Gwyn knew they wouldn’t be able to see her yet, and she wondered how she should approach them.

Azriel… did not look happy, and the tense set of Rhys’ shoulders and back let her know that his face likely looked the same, even if he was facing away from her.

Before she could think of a strategy, Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Gwyn could not describe the feeling that filled her as they drunk in one another. Still standing twenty steps from him, his gaze made her feel like she was wrapped in his arms.

She raised one hand in a wave, and it was like Rhys didn’t exist at all.

Azriel shoved him to the side, Rhys making an indignant sound as he did. He ran to her, and she dropped Nesta’s coat so she could wrap her arms around him as they crashed together. People in the streets backed off at Azriel’s display, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less about where she was, as long as she was with him.

His wings wrapped around her, creating a shield between them and the outside world.

“Gwyn.”

“Hey Az,” she whispered, her arms around his neck and his face tucked to her shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He straightened and brushed the hair from her face. It had stuck to her skin from how much she had sweat while taking the stairs, but she didn’t care how she looked. She knew he certainly never would.

He looked ready to fight an invisible threat, and it made her throb in unspeakable places.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just – I. Um.” She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say to him, but it’s not like she could blurt out Hey! Just wanted to near you at all times and rub my body against yours!

“Did something happen? What do you need me to do?”

She shook her head. “No, no, Az, really, I’m fine. I just regretted not coming out with you all.”

He must have been able to see the honesty on her face and smile, because he relaxed, his wings folding back.

The look on his face was adorable as the realisation dawned on him that she was here for him.

“Did I miss everything? Are you all done?”

He didn’t answer, but he did look behind him. Rhys was standing there with his mouth open, his face laced with something Gwyn couldn’t put a name to. Before she could greet him, Rhys stormed back into the restaurant.

Azriel turned back to her, and he didn’t hesitate when he lifted her chin and kissed her.

She gasped but reciprocated zealously. She pushed her body into his, and his arms went around her as he lifted her off her feet, cradling him to her as he kissed her like she was the wind that let him embrace the skies. He tasted like air, like gold, like this was his final breath and he was he was sharing it with just her.

***

Azriel sat with Gwyn while the rest of their friends danced. She hid it well, but he could tell that she was nervous being in this new environment.

She had been so good, so brave when she went into the restaurant and greeted Azriel’s family. Nesta and Emerie jumped up when they saw her, and Nesta held her tightly while Emerie rushed to get another chair. Nesta was trying to be subtle, but Azriel saw the happy tears she shed as she held Gwyn. Emerie then insisted that Gwyn sit and eat her strawberry and mango cheesecake with her, which earned an inexplicable scowl from Mor. Interesting.

Once Gwyn was satisfied and protesting the consumption of more food, they all walked together to one of the classier bars Nesta used to frequent so they could go dancing. Everyone was light as a feather, except Rhys, but life was hard as a fucking asshole, so Az wasn’t surprised he was feeling surly.

And now here they were. Azriel and Gwyn seated with the others dancing to their hearts content. Mor was spinning around with a giggling Nyx, Feyre and Rhys were swaying but it was obvious they were speaking to each other through their daemati bond, and Emerie and Nesta were terrorising Cassian in a three-way dance.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked, his shadows silent to her moods. If it had been anyone else, he would have known she was coming to the restaurant before she’d even left the House. But his shadows didn’t like to spy on her and revelled in him being surprised by her.

“I feel good.” Her gaze was focused on the dance floor, and Azriel glanced over to see what was so entrancing.

Nesta and Cassian were finally dancing alone, Emerie now with Nyx and Mor. The way Cassian and Nesta were grinding on each other was nothing short of pornographic as they moved into the shadows of the dance floor. Nesta’s back was to Cassian, his hands clasped on her hips as his lips were on her neck as she pushed her ass back against him.

Azriel snorted. They’d be fucking in an alley within the next fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to dance like that, Gwyneth?”

She turned to him, a lovely flush spreading from her face to her chest. “No,” she said unconvincingly. She slid her chair closer to his, the bar stool so high she had to hop onto it to sit. It was frightfully cute, and Azriel had to restrain from kissing her again.

He couldn’t help it in the street. The sight of her – rumpled, breathless, her face alight with joy – was too much for him.

She was beginning to be too much for him.

The longer he was with her, the more of her he was allowed to have, the more he feared he could never go back to just a simple friendship. This female would either be his salvation or his ruination, either of which he would happily accept if it meant he could savour every minute he had left with her.

Under the table, she linked their hands, and Azriel thought he might very well die from the touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our plans.” He rubbed his thumb against her finger.

She smiled his way, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s okay.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I went to your room. I saw what you had done.”

He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She removed her hand from his and placed it on his thigh. “I loved it.”

He shifted in his seat, glad that the tablecloth was long enough so that anyone around, if they looked, would only see their ankles. “You’re playing with fire right now,” he chucked under his breath as she continued to stroke his thigh.

“I especially liked the mirror on the ceiling. May I ask, what purpose does it serve?” Her smile may have been all innocent, but the way her hand was moving was anything but.

She leant against him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

“It was for your pleasure.”

“Is that right?”

He brushed his lips to her ear, grateful that the dim lights of the bar kept them in the shadows and that the dancing bodies kept their scents hidden. And over the live music, no one would hear them. “Mhm. It was so that, no matter what position I put you in, you could watch me.”

She tipped her head back, humming in acknowledgement. Her hand, already in dangerous territory, swept down his increasingly hard length.

He grunted, laying both his hands on the table and fisting the cloth.

“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink to distract him.

She brushed her hand down again, bolder this time, and he squirmed in his chair.

“I would take it out, but I fear it would be seen over the table. So inside it stays,” she sighed. “It must be hard being so large.” She put her lips to his ear, mimicking what he had done to her. “I do love it though. The size, the taste, I think about it constantly.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he choked out. “But at least I’d die happy.”

Her hand slipped inside his pants, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into her hand. He tilted his head back in pleasure as she worked him, getting the angles just right as she pumped him. He was unbelievably aroused by the public act, barely able to believe that she’d do something so audacious. But Cauldron have mercy, he would do anything if it meant she was touching him. She could ask to ride him right now in the middle of this bar and he would blissfully indulge.

“I’m going to finish soon,” he warned her.

“I can’t wait for you to finish in me.”

Her words were his undoing, and he felt the edge of the table splinter under his grip as he contained his moan of pleasure.

He stared at her as she pulled her hand from him, offering him a serviette to clean himself like she hadn’t just given him a mind-blowing orgasm where anyone could have seen.

“Az?” she asked after a few, content minutes of silence.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“Do you think we could go dance?”

***

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relentlessly happy. Azriel flew her and Emerie back to the House of Wind, the latter looking forlorn as they finally left the bar in the small hours of the morning.

Rhys and Feyre had left much earlier, Nyx too small to stay up that late, and if Gwyn was being honest she was surprised they lasted as long as they did. Feyre seemed fine, but Rhys was in a shocking mood. Every time she asked Azriel about it, he just muttered about Rhys being a jerk without elaborating. She could tell that whatever it was, it was sensitive, so she didn’t push him.

Her and Nesta put a very intoxicated Emerie to bed, stripping her and putting her into some pyjamas before tucking her in nice and tight with some herbs on her nightstand that would help her head in the morning. Azriel and Cassian had already gone to their respective bedrooms, and Gwyn contemplated how she was going to sneak into Azriel’s room when Nesta stopped her.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.”

Nesta led her to the library, and they plopped themselves onto one of the plush couches. Gwyn faced her as she sat, tucking her feet under Nesta’s thighs to keep them warm.

Two hot chocolates appeared to them on a table, a dish of marshmallows to the side. They whispered their thanks to the House, claiming the warm drinks. Gwyn pressed hers up against her face, liking the warmth on her skin.

“What do you want to talk about?” Gwyn asked, taking a sip.

“Azriel. You. You and Azriel.” Nesta patted her shin, and Gwyn put her drink down. This wasn’t a hot chocolate kind of conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“Do you love him, Gwyn? Because if you did, or even if you don’t, you don’t have to sneak around Cassian and I and pretend nothing is happening. You can live here, forever if you want. All four of us in the House.”

“Nesta-”

“Imagine if we both had our families and babies here. It’s a big place, we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. And maybe Emerie could come too and she could fall in love too and we’d all be so happy. Okay, I’m rambling and that was weird. What I’m trying to say is – is that you can Azriel are so obviously together and I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why you’re keeping it a secret from us, not that I care that you have secrets you’re an adult and you don’t have to tell me everything, and I’m so fucking happy for you, Gwyn, and I want you to know that you can be publicly happy, if you want.”

“Nesta…”

“I just love this. You and him. I’ve never seen Azriel so happy and you just smile all the time. And, oh, it reminds me of Cassian. In the way that I can see ourselves reflected in you two, and I wonder if maybe if I hadn’t been so,” she gestured at her head, “you know, then I could have just been this happy from the start of us, with him, like you two. So I need you to know that if you want that, if you want him, I am so incredibly supportive and I will do anything you want if it means you get your happily ever after. Okay, I’m done.”

“Nesta.”

“And I also would just love to know how this all began. Like the secret little smiles and observations that I’ve had for as long as I’ve known you just changed one day. And I know you guys used to train alone sometimes and I know you were always here with him, and me and Cas but I can’t pinpoint when your friendship turned into this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I really am done now.”

“Are you sure?” Gwyn pinched her cheek lovingly, and Nesta swatted it away.

“Yes.”

Gwyn took a second to think about her words, and as nice and idyllic as they sounded, Gwyn wasn’t sure they were the truth.

“Nesta, we aren’t together.”

“What?”

“We have a…” Gwyn struggled to find the words. “Deal? Agreement?”

“A sexy agreement?”

Gwyn laughed. “No. Well, yes actually.” She launched into the story of how her and Azriel had started their bargain, detailing how Azriel had agreed to help her overcome her fear, and how much they practised towards her ultimate goal of sex. Gwyn also expressed how their closeness was something she treasured, as spending so much time together naturally led to a deepening in their friendship. Her face stained pink as she told her of some of the things they had done, but how, after over a month together, that hadn’t actually sealed the deal.

Nesta was silent the entire story, letting Gwyn speak her truth. She was contemplative over Gwyn’s words, not saying anything until she was done speaking.

“Before I say anything, I want to let you know how incredibly proud of you I am, and how much I support wanting to explore yourself and your sexuality. No matter what I say, I need you to know that.”

Well, that wasn’t a good start.

“I understand, Nesta.”

“Gwyn, do you love him?”

Gwyn took a deep breath. It was a topic she often pushed from her mind, unable or not wanting to broach the subject. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no, Gwyn.”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “What if it’s a ‘I’m not sure because I so thoroughly blurred the lines between what was real and what I asked him to do to help me?’ What if it’s a ‘I don’t know if I could say it to him but if he said it to me, I would say it back in an instant?’”

“Do you know how he feels about you? Has he said anything?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I know we’re friends. I know he cares about me. I know he would do anything I asked of him. I know he must love me, in some way, but I don’t know if it’s love-love or platonic love.”

“And he’s never given any sort of indication of his intentions?”

Gwyn pondered how thoughtful he was, how detail oriented he was to her pleasure and how he was the best part of her day. And as she thought about it, about him, who was so caring and lovable and agreeable, and she realised that a lot of what he did for her – the comfort, the talking, the support – he would do for anyone.

“I’ve never asked.” Her breath shuddered, and Nesta put a hand to her cheek.

“Maybe you should.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? What if I’m just an obligation?”

“Oh, my love.” Nesta repositioned them so that Gwyn was lying down, her head in Nesta’s lap, as Nesta lovingly stroked her hair. It reminded Gwyn so much of what Catrin used to do that she couldn’t help the tears that started to shed.

“It’s better to know what you are to him. If it’s any consolation, I think he cares about you a great deal. Maybe even loves you. It’s hard to tell when he’s naturally so cold.”

He wasn’t cold, she wanted to say, he was the warmest person she knew. Instead, she cried, and she let Nesta comfort her like she always did.

***

A few days passed, and although Gwyn never left the House, her sexual relations with Az didn’t progress. Rather, they stopped altogether. He didn’t mind at all, he was just glad for her company. They talked and trained, and Azriel was surprised that somehow he could be even more impressed of her than before.

She also started doing what he called her ‘casual kisses.’

They would be doing something monotonous, like sorting weapons for training the next day, and she could kiss him as she walked by him. Or they would be sitting in bed reading, and she would lean over and brush her lips to his temple.

It became a game, who could casually kiss the other first if the opportunity arose, and it was the best game Az had ever played.

He felt himself looking forward to the nights even if the only touching they did was cuddling until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Azriel wondered if this is what home felt like.

It was late, and Gwyn decided that she needed to return to the library before people started to question where she was. Az didn’t have the heart to tell her they already were.

“I had the most interesting conversation with Nesta the other day,” she said as they reached the door that would take her away.

“What about?”

Gwyn fiddled with her fingers, trepidation oozing from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry starting to maw at him.

“I’m fine.” She turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on her hairline. He loved the height different between them, it made him feel bigger than he was. “Nesta asked me about us. She has suspected for a while.”

He schooled his face into neutrality. As far as Gwyn knew, this was new information to him.

He hadn’t told her a word of what had happened between them and Rhys, and it would stay that way. All it would do was hurt her, and Azriel was serious when he said no harm would ever come her way from him. She did not need to know that Rhys was acting like a tool.

In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t need to read minds to know that Rhys was highly suspicious of them both. And more so, as much as it pained him to admit, how much Rhys disapproved. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he had a good idea. Rhys, as much as he loved Az, must know that he would never be good enough for Gwyn. The idea had plagued him for days, and the only thing that drove away the dark thoughts were the casual kisses Gwyn would bestow upon him.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, snapping back to their conversation.

She shrugged. “At first I was worried, but now I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Why were you worried?”

“You know, it’s weird. I had it in my head that if people knew I was on this mission to achieve some ultimate, empowering orgasm that they might judge me. But Nesta never would, and I felt like an idiot as soon as she looked at me and told me she knew we were,” she gestured between them, “touching.”

Az snickered. “Touching is one way to sum it up.”

“She asked me something I couldn’t answer.”

“What was that?”

“She asked me what we are.” She brushed her hands over his chest absentmindedly. “What I am to you.”

He clasped her hands and held them to his heart, trying to make her look at him when she was purposefully focusing on the floor.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That I don’t know what I am to you.”

“Gwyn…”

“I need to say something, and I beg you not to interrupt until I’m done.” She sniffled, and he hated the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away, facing him with steel. “I genuinely approached you with nothing but friendship in mind. I had a plan, to sleep with you once and then go back to how we always were before – me, as your overly competitive but absolute best student, and you as, as this God of a man that I could not believe even walked the same existence as me, let alone be someone I considered a friend. You were my ribbon Az. The thing I wanted to be as good as. And then you said yes to me. I didn’t expect you to. I half-thought you would laugh because you thought I was joking. But you didn’t, and you said yes, and I have made the grave mistake of developing feelings I swore to myself I wouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“I had every intention of having sex with you until Nesta asked me what I was to you. And then I realised that if all I was to you was a proposition to uphold, I couldn’t do it. I can’t be with you just once. I can’t be just friends if we take that last step. So, Az, I’m asking you, and please don’t feel obligated to say anything you don’t feel, but what am I to you?”

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like his ribs were being ripped apart and then shoved back together until his lungs were caged too tightly. He knew what he wanted to say, that of course she was more than that, she was everything, but then he thought of her spirit being crushed by his inadequacies, and how she could do so much better now that she was ready to. She was pure, she was light, and she deserved more than his darkness.

He had been quiet too long.

Watching her was like watching a porcelain doll shatter after being dropped. Her face crumbled, and she pulled her hands away from him as she tried to contain herself.

“You’re my best friend.” He finally said, his own tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” Which he would, if she stayed with him and realised how truly broken he was.

A sob fractured her chest, and Az hated the way her voice sounded when she spoke. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then they were kissing. It tasted like salt from their tears and was more passionate and heart-wrenching than any of the kisses they’d had before. They were drowning, their only hope at salvation one another as they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

Azriel didn’t want to let her go. He knew once he did that it would be over. His month of bliss, of final contentment, would be over. Part of him wished Nesta had never opened her mouth, or that he’d been able to tell the truth, but all of him wished that he was someone else, or that he was more like his brothers, so that he was good enough for her.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was not so she could leave. They still clung to each other, breathing in each other’s scents, well into the night.

When she whispered goodbye, part of his soul left with her as she walked away.

He lied to her by staying silent. He should have told her the truth, that what he was feeling went deeper than affection, maybe even deeper than love. But this lie protected her, and he would take it to his grave.

#acosf #fanfic #gwynriel #azriel #nessian #feysand #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acowar #sjm #sarahjmaas #tog #koa #emorie #mor x emerie

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