#there is also the part where there is something deeply wrong with all three of them

[takes1]

[final part] kuroo x hard to get!reader

ohhh this was a fun little series. thanks for the support :)

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. face sitting / riding kuroo / pining!kuroo / complicated crushes / hard to get!reader / switch!reader / switch!kuroo / rbf!reader / manager!reader / whiny!kuroo / training camp setting / degradation kink / quickie / play fighting kink / kuroo with a big ego / player!kuroo / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu here. part one. part two. requests open.

There was only a small pause, short enough for him to realize what you were doing.

"Please just come in," He sighed, candid and contrite, "Until the storm passes."

At this point, you were both locked in a tense game of chess, unwilling to sacrifice too much truth at any given point, but unable to stop playing until somebody won. You let him slip your raincoat off of you and hang it up, gentle, attentive, playing eye tag for the length of time it took to close and lock the door.

The kitchen stole your attention almost right away, filled with the sounds of a ritual slaughter. The shouting was accusatory and excited, like someone had been deeply wronged.

"Stop that before you set something on fire!" Kuroo shouted.

He picked up the peace offering and carried it towards his needy, weary team.

Your eyes widened a little at his team captain voice, safe to react because his attention was split. You trailed behind him, hesitant, towards the commotion.

"Keep it down. We've got a guest."

The noise was broken for a moment of silence at the presence of hot food, landing right on the dining table, then a million eyes on you.

It looked like everyone was dressed comfortably because there were no girls around. You averted your eyes immediately from the few that were in just their underwear and found that most of them opted for no shirts.

None of them cared very much. They all went in on the giant bag like a pack of starving wolves, shoving each other out of the way, grabbing as many as they could hold all at once. One hit the floor and was picked up, placed right into somebody else's mouth for safe keeping.

You took a step back, closer to Kuroo. He was so tame compared to them. The bag was empty in 20 seconds; it would've been less than that, had they not been fighting over lukewarm scraps.

"Where's your Coach?" You surveyed the room and found nothing but Nekoma players, munching obnoxiously.

It was the most prevalent thing on your mind. You didn't want to be 'caught,' though your surface-level intentions were innocent and backed by evidence.

Right before you left your own team's corresponding lodging, Coach Ukai was rounding up all the guys, trying to put them down for bed like twenty rowdy toddlers. If everyone sat still, you'd be able to still hear him yelling down the pathway.

A short guy you caught earlier today as Yaku answered, between three big bites of a bun, "Oh, Coach Nekomata went to bed, like, an hour ago."

The guy was ancient. It made sense that he wouldn't be as involved as Ukai in his old age, but he also had no need to. His team was well-behaved. Despite their frenzy, they were still a much quieter group than Karasuno.

In fact, after all the initial thanks and praises sung for your angelic timing, it felt too quiet. You wanted to leave, get back to your familiar and fun team, despite the weather. Kuroo could sense it in your stiffness.

The team was preoccupied with their supper. He had to make some bold maneuver, or you would voluntarily forfeit and slink back in the rain- because that was somehow a more appealing option than admitting you wanted to have sex with him.

Fukunaga clocked the complicated mess that was your current dynamic for exactly what it was. Some weirdo mating ritual. First he noticed that Kuroo wasn't eating. Then that he was only speaking to you. He was the ticking clock personified, double fisting two delicious buns without blinking. His unwavering stare cut into you from across the kitchen.

You shivered at the intensity, shifted just a little towards Kuroo with your head turned, defensive, towards the lanky guy. "He's creeping me out."

Kuroo leaned further down to mutter against your hair, dismissive, "Him? Shouhei's harmless."

He lingered, bent at the waist, just to take in another breath of your hair. You smelled so good. He couldn't let you go back just yet.

"How about we go upstairs?"

Aside from Fukunaga, nobody had a mind to notice if you left now. It wasn't a 'Yeah, let's fuck,' but it was close, so you sat in hesitation for a good, still minute.

-

The pace naturally quickened the closer to the door you got, like you were being chased by something. It was mostly the threat of time, but the predatory vibe you both got from each other was substantial, like if you let your guard down for a second, the other would eat you alive.

There was a rushed cadence to the way you entered the room and how he slid the door closed- only slowing to completely lock it as quiet as possible.

Everything was still for a moment. The end game was in sight, and neither of you could predict who would be the first to let up. Would it end here, or as you were coming down?

"What's your deal?"

"What deal?" You snapped, arms crossed, glancing about the large room filled with pallets.

This was so risky. Nothing about the danger of getting caught up here appealed to you. You weren't sure if he understood how comprised you'd be if anyone heard about this- you'd have to quit your manager job, at least.

It made you rigid, inflexible conversationally and physically. He fought the need to cross his arms, too.

"Why did you really come over?" He threw his chin up at you. When he tried to close the distance, he noticed how you took a step back.

The irony was eating him alive; you were so delicate to work with, but merciless in your methods- and you just kept coming back around, sparing no time for him to find just the right angle to work through your impossible armor.

His dismal attitude marked the next words out of his mouth, "You just- get a kick out of torturing me, or something?"

A hum- no, a laugh. He looked at you to figure out what it really was, and found your expression a little softer.

You looked around the room, head rocking side to side, "Mmm...Yeah."

Kuroo rolled his eyes at how much it took for you to be honest with him. He muttered to himself on the way to his bedding. You could leave if you wanted, but he needed to sit down. Dealing with you made him tired.

It was passive enough to get you curious again. You came around eventually, taking the time to mosey through the little aisle of space between where everyone slept. He only looked up from his hands when he felt you sit and lean against his side.

The flinch back was too strong to be ignored. He winced at the way your brows screwed up, forming a negative, probably wrong idea of him already. He could hear you being let down.

"You're all talk," Your voice was kind, dismissive, but your gaze pierced right through him.

He had to act like it didn't hurt, as if you didn't just twist a knife in his stomach.

It wasn't his fault you had conditioned him to be wary of you, if he wanted to stay in your favor- if he wanted a fair chance at pleasing you.

It frustrated him that you put him in a box so quickly, inspiring rough and ready action.

But you didn't back down from the quick, hungry kiss he stole from your parted lips. It was a challenge, after all. You met it, leaned freely into it- fingers filling with his messy, still-wet hair, while he palmed at your waist to pull you into his lap.

"You're not a-," Kuroo cut you off on purpose with another kiss, so you pushed him against the floor, eyes narrowed at his smirk, "You're not a virgin, are you?"

Fingers hooked under the waistband of your pants, searching absentmindedly for your panties, he laughed- genuinely amused.

"Fuck no," Was a sigh, distracted by the subtle but undeniable rock of your hips on top of him.

The sensation was so much better than his hand. He pushed against you, eyes scouring every inch of the perfect sight before him.

"Then why are you acting like one?" You pulled your shirt off, tossing it a reachable distance away.

That look in your eyes was back as you struggled to undo the clasp on your bra for a second; what he could now read as 'You better be worth it.'

Kuroo sat up with a quickness, forcing you to rock back and lean against his thighs, his brow sifting through the implication of your words, but his eyes ready to deliver.

"What, I can't be a little nervous?"

Big, agile hands slid behind you with another crushing kiss.

Your bra was off in half a second, replaced with his warm palms. He groaned against your lips at the feeling- you melted a little into his hasty touch, his wordless declaration of desire.

You arched into his touch, into his kisses descending in a messy, wet flurry down your collarbone and over your perky buds. The addicting sensation of his tongue made your thighs squeeze, your hips to rolling over his with a gasp as you unbuttoned yourself.

Those big hands swallowed up your sides easily, so pleasant compared to the cold air that made your skin prickle.

Soon, you were pushing him again, harder because he wasn't as easy to remove this time.

His eyes searched you, watching you get up and only concerned for a moment before you took the rest of your clothes off, standing over him. He realized he couldn't catch his breath, perfectly still in awe at your confident smile, that self-imposed nudity you used just to get a rise out of him.

"Shit," He groaned. His back of his head hit his pillow and he openly palmed himself to the sight of you.

Those cat-like eyes were blown out, so dark against the whites of his eyes, a little hitch on his breath already before you could even think about sitting back down. You nudged his shin with your foot to bring him back to the land of the living, telling him to take it all off.

The guy was a nice size- worthy of some of his cocky attitude, at least. You sat on him to slide back and forth over him.

"This what you wanted, pretty boy?" Your eyes were smiling, but your little frown was what completed the look for him.

The clipped whine, loud, though it never got past his lips, told you yes.

You put your hands on his chest so he had to watch you slide over his cock, coating him, showing him how wet you had gotten from that killer body he flaunted around so freely. He was kind of a whore, and you wanted him to know it.

It felt heavenly but he would never have guessed it, based on that pissed off pout you still had. His nails dug into the fleshy part of your thighs, a big sigh to collect himself before he let go, hands clasped behind his head. It looked casual, enjoying the view.

"You wanna know what I want?" He teased.

You cocked a brow at him, still using his slippery member to get off with little circles of your hips. He rode a fine line.

"I wantcha to sit on my face."

Kuroo blew a kiss at you. It wasn't the kiss, rather the good idea that made you slow to a stop and hum.

"Oh yeah?" Your low-lidded eyes burned into his soul as you dipped to eye level.

Your breasts squished against him, a thumb brushing his glossy lips- you took his cock with one hand and lined him up against your pussy, sensitive head rubbing back and forth.

The little bit of pressure against you, as he bucked instinctively with a throaty groan, helped your point.

He was under a spell, breath shallow, his fingers coming undone with the built-in need to steady your hips and fuck you already.

You spoke to that struggle in his eyes, "You sure that's what you want?"

Kuroo unlaced his hands and, when you thought you had him, sitting further back on his cock, he pulled you up and off of him.

"Was saving just enough room for dessert, baby," He muttered, dark and restrained, but still managing a little bit of humor to shine through.

He sure did. That slick tongue of his did more than just aggravate the shit out of you- he could guess what you wanted by how you were riding his cock. Nothing too aggressive, just dizzyingly consistent and enthusiastic.

Because it was the notion of worship that got you off. How good did it feel? How much did you want to fuck him? That depended. How bad did he want it?

"F-uck," You moaned under your hand, legs shaking under the locked pull of his arms, "Fuck-mmnh!"

Kuroo's excited, well-placed moans vibrated against you, faltering your balance at the worst of times.

You kept a rough hold in that mess of black hair and rode his flat tongue with no shortage of eye contact.

It was like you hated each other, how vicious those looks got.

You couldn't stand it. You'd be damned before you came on his tongue. He was going to give you your orgasm with his cock.

When you tried to get off, he readjusted his grip, stronger-- you had to start prying his fingers, one by one, off of your thighs. He loved how whiny and cute you got in the struggle, but noticed you never once begged him to stop.

You jumped, failing one last time to get his arm off, at his silly groan buzzing against your clit, "Ah-!"

It took pressing your palms against his face to get him to let go.

His gaze was brutal, taking in the way your legs shook, as he pushed the rest of you off of his chin and onto his aching cock.

There was no point in changing positions. It was obvious you wanted to be on top. He wanted the view.

"O-ohh," You threw your head back, eyes screwed shut, at that perfect, pretty cock stuffed in you.

Your tight pussy took the breath out of him. His hands filled with your hips, bringing you slow, up and down over what you had been too proud to admit that you needed.

His low-lidded eyes took in every curve of your perfect body, every little bounce he fucked into you, especially the shocked expression taking your face. It wasn't dissimilar to what you had looked like watching him earlier that day.

"That feel good, pretty girl?" He raked his nails gently across your thighs.

He seethed at the intense feeling of you starting to fuck him right back. It was a move he hadn't experienced yet with any other partners.

And you got to watch him completely unravel before your glossy eyes.

"F-uck-!" He gasped, "H-oh, shit," was spilling out of his mouth, between the light sounds of him bottoming out into your soaking wet cunt.

His brows were screwed up, real vulnerable- it sent a chill through you and ended swirling up fast, turning into tension in your tummy that he threatened to fill.

You prayed nobody was in the hallway, or they'd be able to hear some downright incriminating sounds.

Your palm pressed over his loud mouth, barely swallowing your own whimpering to tell him, "Shh..."

The way you threw your weight back into his thrusts demanded a very whiny cry into your hand. You knew it; you knew he was a whiny fuck. You clocked him so well from the very beginning.

Maybe he would've been more of a dominant presence if he was used to dealing with girls like you- or maybe he liked giving up some responsibility, once in a while.

His big, strong hands groped at your tits as they bounced, brushing his skin just enough to get some sharp, rolling pleasure.

He slowed, his hips rolling deep into you- he moved out of your hand and took a breath through his mouth to gasp.

"You better not cum before me," You warned, a little stilted because of how close you were, but deadly serious.

Your resting face was just so bitchy. You looked like you hated him, but loved his cock by the way you fucked him.

Kuroo kept his edge at bay with his eyes unfocused, trying not to watch you. Just for you, just so he could feel you cum first.

He was so grateful -barely holding on, just a dumb toy for you to fuck at this point-, to hear a high-pitched break in your gasps, "Mm-!"

"A-h-mmn-!" You kept your sounds muffled so well with one hand, forcing him to keep his at bay with the other.

The tension in your face was incredibly cute. Probably the only look of its kind, when it came to what you were willing to show him.

It was all he could do to fuck you to the height of it, rough but so dangerously close after that he had to pull out halfway through yours.

And boy, were you glad to be keeping him quiet. That guy could wake up the whole camp if he wanted to.

He came all over his own tummy, sweaty and out of breath, not even pushing back against your hand. He looked exhausted. You were tired, too, but didn't wear it as clearly. You spared a minute to catch your breath.

A slow, little peck to his forehead.

"All talk."

You slid your hand off of him and composed yourself enough to stand, gathering up your clothes. You grinned at the deep frown you were able to conjure while he was still swimming in post-orgasm bliss.

Kuroo groaned, sleepy and filling back up with something unpleasant, running his fingers through hair. He sat up, still glossy with cum.

You were nearly dressed when he was carefully pulling his pants back on.

He was so broody at your words, grumpy when you got a tiny glance at his face- there was a shared, quiet understanding that he still needed to walk you back, so you quietly waited for him to wipe off in the bathroom and pull a jacket on.

The journey to get out the door was comical and exaggerated in nature. Lots of looking around corners, waiting for people to get distracted, for you to slip outside. Thankfully his team weren't concerned with your whereabouts.

Kuroo still had not said a thing to you until you were back at Karasuno's lodging. You had already made your peace with this as the end of it, entirely, and understood he wouldn't want to look at you again after tonight.

When you about to turn, to go inside, he spoke up.

"Did you get what you wanted?"

It was mean and assuming. You deserved it a little.

"Did you?"

He deserved it too. It felt like you both lost, in a way.

You leaned into a last-second kiss, hands coming out of your pockets to run your fingers through his hair again. It fell naturally into a very long, lustful thing between you. His hands pulled you against him, hot and heavy, hardly ready to let go when you heard some stirring from inside.

"Fuck, no," He admitted, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.

The door was unlocking.

"It's a long training camp."

You said it vague enough so Daichi would have no idea what you meant as you walked by him.

He threw a hard look to Kuroo before closing the door, who returned it tenfold.

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[asheli1515]

The Place You Found Me || Rafe Cameron

best!friend!reader X soft!rafe

a/n: heyyyy. I hope you like this one. I love a good 'one character is injured and the other comforts them" story. I also love writing Rafe's emotional side and him being an emotionally intelligent man so this was born. Hope ya'll are having a great holiday season!!

word count: ~3.8k (a longer one)

warnings/disclaimers: angst, fluff, brief mentions of violence, daddy issues, ward mentioned, mental health, mentions of self-harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms

summary: When a heated argument with Ward spirals out of control, Rafe vanishes without a word, leaving everyone—including his childhood best friend—in the dark. As the only person who truly knows Rafe’s complex, troubled soul, Reader immediately senses something is deeply wrong. Determined to uncover the truth, they embark on a search, while wrestling with their own fears and emotions. Will their unyielding bond be enough to bring Rafe back, or has he finally reached the breaking point that sends him beyond their reach?

masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

READER POV:

Rafe has been missing for days – three, to be exact. Everyone has been telling me that he will show back up eventually because ‘he always does this.’ However, to me, this time feels different than the others… like the dam finally broke.

It was another fight between Rafe and his father, Ward, that caused his disappearance. It must have been particularly bad this time because Ward is looking about as good as a boxer after a fight. He had a cut on his eyebrow and a bruised cheekbone, as well as bloodied knuckles that lead me to believe Rafe will have wounds that will mirror his own. The most sickening part of this is the smile on Ward's face. He is playing the part of a concerned father very poorly. I've been privy to many altercations between the father and son over the years and this is Ward's response every time. He pretends like nothing happened, like Rafe isn't falling apart in front of him, like it isn't his fault. It breaks my heart every time because I can see how broken he is but it seems like no one else can. It might be because they don't want to so that their precious reputation can remain unmarred.

I know more about the behind-the-scenes dealings of the Cameron’s because of my friendship with Rafe. It is one of the most bizarre aspects of my life because I don't even know how to explain how it happened. All I know is one day we bumped into each other at an event put on by the Cameron's for some charity or holiday. From then on, we were inseparable. Wherever I was, Rafe was not far behind. People always speculated about what we were to each other, but we never labeled it. We just knew that no one knew us like we knew each other. However, recently I have been feeling more...intense feelings toward him. I tried ignoring them for the sake of our friendship, but I definitely failed. I know that because of how my heart feels like it's being squeezed to the point of exploding. Rafe is not a stranger to reckless behavior, and I am terrified to figure out what drastic measures he might have taken after the fight. If anything happened to him, I don't know what I would do. What if he-

No, I can't think like that. He wouldn't do that to me...he couldn't. As this thought crosses my mind, a tear slips from my eye. I quickly wiped the evidence away from my cheek and head into the Cameron's house. I run into Sarah on my way to Rafe’s room. Ever since he vanished, I had made a daily routine of going to his room to try and figure out where he could have gone. I also have been going in there because I miss him desperately. I have never missed anyone this much and I don't know how to deal with it so I just sit. I sit in his room to be close to him but also in the hope that he'll show up eventually like he usually does.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Sarah questions as we pass each other in the foyer. She looks like she has gotten about as much sleep as I have, which is none. She doesn’t like to admit it, but she really does love him and this is tearing her up inside.

“I’m okay.” I lie unconvincingly. “Ugh, no I’m not. I’m actually really scared for him. I don’t like not knowing where he is or what trouble he’s gotten himself into. I mean you know how reckless he is when his emotions are high. I-I just want him to be back here with us…me.” I finish my tangent and try to calm myself down. I can’t let my emotions get the better of me, especially not now.

She sighs and gives me a hug which I reciprocate immediately. “I know…it will be okay, alright?” She pulls back and looks me in the eyes. I can see her sincerity and it makes me relax, if only a little.

“Thank you, Sarah. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re a really good friend and sister.” I smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m going to look for him at a few places that seem promising later if you want to join.” I offer.

She shakes her head. “No, it should be you. I know we’re siblings but my bond with him couldn’t even hold a candle to yours. He’ll respond better to you.” She says matter-of-factly. The fact that she feels this way makes me feel slightly guilty. I don’t want to make her feel like I am more important to him than she is.

“Are you sure?” I ask with a slight frown.

“Yes, absolutely! I just want him back and you are our best chance of that happening.” She states. She opens her mouth again as if she was going to continue speaking but shuts it after she thinks for a moment. It was as if she was unsure if she should say whatever it was that almost came out of her mouth.

I look at her with questioning eyes. “What were you going to say?”

She looks conflicted but eventually speaks. “I can’t give you the answer you want because what I was going to say should come from Rafe. All I will say is that you know he loves you, right? Like more than I have ever seen him love anyone, even our father which is a difficult thing to accomplish.” She stops speaking when she realizes that she was rambling. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Go find him for us, yeah?” She finishes and walks out of the house and toward her car.

Her words hit me hard because I know he loves me and that's why this hurts so much. He loves me but isn't in love with me, though, that doesn't matter right now.

I need to find him and soon.

I open the door to his room and find myself sitting at the foot of his bed. I pull my knees into my chest and lean my head back on to the bedspread. I sit there for a while just observing the contents of the room that are the same as they were yesterday and the day before that. His room is clean which is unexpected given the jumbled-up mess I know his mind was in before he left. There is a bulletin board with important notes and pictures, a lot of them are either from me or I am in. This realization brings a genuine smile to my face and it's the first one I've had in days. Most people assume Rafe Cameron doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body, but he does. I've seen it first-hand but the others in Kildare never even give him a chance to show them how kind he can be. They paint him as this uncontrollable, cold monster but that's just not him.

After a while, I leave Tannyhill to go to the first location on my list. There's an overlook on the island that is usually avoided by the town’s residents because there is no railing to prevent people from falling. Rafe, however, loves it because of that fact. He likes the adrenaline of standing close to the edge and it terrifies me every time we go there but I go for him. When I get there I find it to be lacking his presence and head to the next spot on my list.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

After hours of running around to places all over Kildare. I finally reached the last place on my list. I'm starting to lose hope of ever finding him and I hate that feeling. The feeling of never seeing somebody you care about again and there's nothing you can do to fix it.

As I approached my last chance of finding him, I pause to take it in. The building I am met with used to be a greenhouse but has long since been abandoned. Half of the roof is sunken in and the plants that were housed inside are now overgrown. Vines and grass cover most of the exterior giving the illusion of a jungle. I eventually made my way to the entrance, maneuvering under the vines growing over the front doors. Once I am inside, the darkness overwhelms me and I wait for my eyes to adjust.

Once they do, I see tables with potted plants sprawled out across them and an amount of dust that can only come with time. Eventually, in the corner of my eye, I see him... sitting against the wall across the room.

“Rafe!” I gasp quietly.

I run to his side and see the extent of his injuries immediately. He has a black eye, a busted lip, and bruised knuckles. None of it looks life threatening which puts some of my fears to rest but not all of them.

“Rafe? Hey, it’s me. Can you look at me?” I ask gently.

He looks up at me and I almost break down in tears at the brokenness I find in his eyes. He looks like he has given up and that is tearing me up inside.

“Hey…” He says softly. “You found me.”

“Yeah, I did. I know you like it here. The whole ‘beauty of destruction’ thing…how could I forget?” I say sadly.

He smiles weakly. “I knew you would find me eventually. You know me better than anyone.” He moves to face me and winces slightly due to his wounds.

“I hate that you have to see me like this…” He trails off and looks away from me like he should be embarrassed over something that Ward did.

“You shouldn’t even be hurt. This is all your dad’s fault just like it always is.” I stop when I realize that I am getting worked up over something that is not important in this moment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.” I apologize to Rafe. The apology is unnecessary though because he isn’t exactly unaware of my disdain for his father. Ever since I learned about the way Ward treats him, looking at him at him made me feel sick to my stomach.

He looks at me fondly and takes my hand in his. “It’s okay…I know you don’t like him. I’m not even sure I like him most days but he’s my father, ya know?”

He absent-mindedly rubs circles on my palm with his thumb while I attempt to formulate a response.

“I know he is…I just can’t stand to see you hurting, Rafe.” I say as a tear slips down my cheek. I have been trying to keep my emotions in check these past few days but I am not sure how much longer I can keep it up.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m okay, I promise.” He says softly as he wipes the tear from my cheek as he cups my face and makes me look at him.

I look into his eyes as more tears escape mine. “I know you are…this time. But what if you aren’t next time? I can’t do this without you, Rafe. I can’t.”

He pulls me into a hug that I can tell was needed by both of us. I needed it to prove to me that he is really here in this moment, and he needed it to keep him tethered to reality.

“You won’t have to. I promise that I am never going to leave you, okay?”

I nod into his shoulder as my face is currently buried in the crook of his neck. Something about today, this moment with Rafe, feels different. The air around us feels more charged than usual and I am scared to do anything as if moving will ruin it.

“I really missed you the past few days…a lot.” I say into his shoulder as I take a deep breath to calm myself after the stress of the days prior.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He sighs as he says this. “I wanted to come back but every time I thought about going back and facing my dad made it impossible to. I wanted to tell you that I was okay, but I didn’t want my dad to find me this time. I-I needed to just get away from it all. Before I knew it, it had been three days, and I realized that I needed to come back. That I had to come back for you at the very least.” He looked into my eyes then and my heart stopped beating.  

The way he said those words and the way he is currently looking at me right now makes my breath hitch. His gaze is not his usual friendly one but one that holds something deeper. It makes me question if he feels for me even a little of what I feel for him.

“Rafe…” I whisper breathlessly as I don’t trust my voice to not shake if I were to speak with more force.

I don’t even know what I planned to say when his name came out of my mouth. Was I going to say something profound that would help him move on from this disastrous situation we were currently in? Or was I going to be stupid and just blurt out the fact that I loved him, that I was in love with him. Knowing me it was most likely going to be the latter.

The thought of confessing to him was absolutely terrifying but what is equally, if not more, terrifying is loving someone and never getting to tell them that fact. When he disappeared three days ago, I was sure he was going to come back. What the people in town were telling me was not far from the truth. He always came back. Then one day turned into two and two turned into three. I was so scared that three days was going to turn into some ridiculously high number and that high number would turn into forever.

I thought I wasn’t going to see him again and the part that broke me the most was the fact that I hadn’t told him how I felt…how I feel still. This whole experience has made me realize that life is too short to lie to myself about my feelings or be afraid of them not being reciprocated. Yes, there was a chance that he wouldn’t feel the same way, but I would rather take that chance than never get to tell him how I feel. I owe it to myself and Rafe to be honest. I would rather live with rejection than live with never knowing his true feelings towards me. In this moment, I decide to tell Rafe how I feel, and I am terrified.

“Rafe, I need to tell you something. I need you to listen and not say anything until I am finished, okay? I need to get this out and I don’t know if I can if you stop me.” I speak quickly as my nerves start to pick up.

He looks at with a concerned expression but agrees to what I asked of him.

“Okay…” I exhale the breath I didn’t realize that I was holding and prepare to tell him all that I have wanted to tell him for the past few months. I move my hand to the side of his face, a whisper of a touch grazing his face. I then pull my hand away to speak.

“Um, okay. To begin, I was so afraid that I had lost you the past couple of days. I know I already told you this, but I really want to emphasize that fact because I need you to understand how hopeless I have felt without you. I mean you told me about how you’ve struggled with your mental health over the years and about the fact that you are impulsive to a fault.” I stop for a moment to take a breath before continuing.

The next sentence comes out in a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it true. “I thought that…that maybe you had done something to yourself.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that to your family o-or me but I started thinking of every worst-case scenario since your fight with Ward. I know you do this when you get overwhelmed, but you usually text me within a few hours or at least by the next day. When you didn’t do that this time, I panicked. I knew it had to be different because you wouldn’t purposely leave me like that.” I reach up to caress the side of his face. I had to be as close to him as possible in this moment and I didn’t care if this action gave away the feelings that I have locked away for so long.

“Anyway, all of this has made me realize something. I have realized that life is short, and I have no idea what could happen or what tomorrow holds. I realized that I need to be honest with you about something that I haven’t even been completely honest with myself about until recently.” I take a deep breath and prepare to confess my feelings to him.

“What I’m trying to say, Rafe, is…I’m in love with you.” My voice comes out timidly and almost like I am unsure of myself. I don’t dare to look at him because I am afraid that I will be met with an expression of pity. I remove my hand from his face so that he can take in everything I had just told him. My hand is almost back at my side when he grabs it with his own and puts my hand back where it was a few moments ago. He leans into my touch and his tense muscles relax in a way that I haven’t seen in a long time.

I stop breathing

“Look at me.” He says this in such a gentle way that I almost pass out.

When I still don’t look at him, he puts his hand on my face in the same manner that my hand is on his face. I make eye contact with him and a shiver runs down my spine. The eyes that I am met with are not ones of pity, but ones filled with the most love that I have ever seen…and it’s for me.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that.” He breathes as his eyes well up with tears. “I have loved you ever since we first met. I didn’t know why or how it happened, but I always wanted to be around you. You were always on my mind, and it was the strangest feeling for me because I had never felt for anyone else what I do for you, sweetheart.” A tear slips down his cheek and I quickly wipe it away with my thumb.

“You quiet my mind and that is something I've strived so long for. My mind is always so loud and overwhelming but with you…” He pauses to kiss my palm. The heat of his touch lingering long after his lips leave my skin. “…with you I was finally able to just be. I was finally able to hear what really mattered.”

“I am so madly in love with you, baby. I was yours the moment I laid eyes on you, even if I hadn’t realized it yet.” I am completely dumbfounded by the words coming out of his mouth that I can’t even find my own to respond with.

“I am so sorry for leaving you without telling you where I was going. I never meant for it to go this far. I was just so overwhelmed that I couldn’t think straight. I promise that I will talk to you next time before doing anything. I don’t want you to feel like I abandoned you ever again. I am so proud of you for being honest with me, you know that? You are my reason to stay so as long as you are here, I will be too.” He finishes speaking and it sounds as if he is out of breath.

I am truly speechless. He loves me…he loves me? I never in a million years thought that Rafe could ever love me but here we are. I am still at a loss for words but luckily actions speak louder than the words I can’t seem to find.

I lean in and kiss Rafe in a gentle way to test the waters. Electricity shoots through me as he responds to my advances. The kiss was soft, tentative, and delicate. It deepened, not with urgency, but with a steady, quiet intensity—a sharing of something neither of us ever thought would be shared. Every sensation—the warmth of his skin, the faint tremor in his hands, the way our heartbeats seemed to sync—was magnified. When we finally parted, it was only by a fraction, our lips lingering close enough to feel the faintest brush of breath.

Our eyes met, and in that gaze, everything was laid bare. In this moment, I was more content than I ever have been in my entire life. It felt as if my whole future could be more than I ever thought it could be. As I looked into Rafe’s eyes, I saw a love that could never be broken, one that I wanted for so long.

Rafe loved me…he was in love with me, and I would never take that fact for granted.

“This is the best moment of my life,” I say, laughing and smiling at him. I could barely believe the events that had transpired in the past hour, but I knew I would remember them forever.

“Mine too.” He said this with such warmth that I could barely feel the cool air in the greenhouse anymore.

“Let’s get you back to your sister. She had been worried sick.” I say as I help him stand up from the floor.

“Has she now? I find that hard to believe.” He jokes as he slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. He places a kiss on the top of my head.

“Shut up! You know she loves you… in her own way.” I giggle thinking about how Sarah loves to tease him. Despite this, Rafe and I know that she cares about him more than she lets on.

As we walk out of the greenhouse and to my car, I am filled with a hope that wasn’t there before. I am excited to see what the future holds for me and Rafe but right now? Right now was enough for me.

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

© 2024, asheli1515. All rights reserved.

[pyro-madder]

starting to see a personal trend of ot3s being "male protag/canon female lover with nicely developped relationship/male narrative foil with whom sex would be less gay than what they have going on"

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric. 

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer. 

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

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[giuliettagaltieri]

Footsteps in the Snow

Pairing: Dad!Coriolanus Snow x Mom!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Heir

Warning: parenthood

Word Count: 3133

7 of 7

When one has everything, the only foe left to face seems to be nothing else but time.

Coriolanus watched his son Aurelius Hyperion, or Harper grow.  The little boy seemed to become more and more like him with every passing day.  And Coriolanus is conflicted about how he feels about that fact as it seems his son grows farther and farther away from him.

You often reassure him that it is simply a part of growing up, that children will have to learn how to become independent.  It was easy for you to say.  You did not have the same crisis as him. 

Harper would seek your company and still cuddles close to you despite him being seven years older since you have given birth to him.

It wounds Coriolanus deeply when he catches Harper laughing with you but his back straightens and the glee in his face fades to indifference when he is nearby.  Coriolanus found it difficult to bond with a child so similar to him.

Without you, he fears Harper would have long left the manor.

“Harper, is there something you would like to tell your father?”  You ask over breakfast, your voice light and cheery, a juxtaposition to the frigid atmosphere.

Coriolanus sets the newspaper down to give his son his undivided attention.  It was something you taught him.  To make Harper feel seen and heard.  And he is thankful that you initiated an interaction between them.  They felt nothing more than strangers living under the same roof.

The little boy glances at his father before he sets his fork down and wipes his lips with the napkin.  Coriolanus waits patiently as the boy sips his water and clears his throat.  He is stalling but Coriolanus will not let him get away from this.

“Yes?”  He asks when Harper chooses to fix his cravat instead of talking.

You smile at your son when he looks at you for support.  ‘Go on.’  You mouth at him.

Harper straightens his back and meets his father’s gaze with his unwavering ones.

“I was the top of my class, father.”  He says proudly.  “I also just learned a new piece on the violin.”

Coriolanus smiles genuinely, proud of his little boy.

“That is good.”

Harper looks at his father with his eyes mirroring the same happiness and for just a moment they stare at each other.  Coriolanus watches how his joy seeps out again.

Coriolanus receives a kick to his shin and he looks at you with accusation but you are too busy buttering your bread.

“I would love to hear you play.”  He tries to add but Harper only nods.  “What piece was it?”

Harper sighs and Coriolanus purses his lips.  “Paganini’s 24th Caprice.”

You sip your tea, quietly enjoying the wonderstruck expression in your husband’s face before he recovers quickly.

“And what does Grandma’am have to say about that?”  Coriolanus asks gently, a soft smile on his lips, one that Harper returns.

“She doesn’t know.”  Harper said mischievously.  Grandma’am would have pulled his ear had she known.

“Let us keep it that way.”  Coriolanus nods as he picks his newspaper again.  “But will you play for me when you find time?”

Harper glances at you before nodding.

“Harper is coming to work with us today.”  You tell Coriolanus who looks at you with mild interest, to ensure that Harper does not take it negatively but he was in truth asking you what you are planning.  Again.

“It has been quite a long time since his last visit.”  You say after pushing a fruit parfait in your son’s direction.

“Indeed, it has.”  Coriolanus agrees as he picks up where he left off in the newspaper.

Your son knew that something might be wrong when you were smiling too much the moment all three of you entered his father’s office.  Coriolanus was fixing the documents in his desks when you sat on the plush sofa, your heavy belly more prominent.  You would have gone to your own office usually.

Harper sits on the other sofa across you, watching how his little sister sent kicks through your belly, making the fabric shift ever so slightly.

“Oh, dear me!”  You suddenly gasp and both boys look at you with concern.  “Vipsania Sickle’s afternoon tea, it’s tomorrow.”

Coriolanus raises a brow.  “She hosts afternoon tea all the time, my love.  There is no need to trouble yourself.”

“But I do not have a dress.”  You argue as you attempt to stand with great difficulty.  “And she claims this afternoon tea will best the recent one the Flickermans hosted, and mind you, that was pretty eccentric.”

Harper stands abruptly when you get off the couch. 

“Oh, no, Honey.”  You smile at your sweet boy, your hand brushing his golden head to keep it neater.  “I will have to go alone.  I would not want to burden you with scanning for dresses the entire day.”

He looks desperately at you, turns his back to his father and mouths pleas but you only smile cheekily and kiss his nose.

“I will see you later.  Have a great day with your father.”  You pat his cheek lightly.  Coriolanus comes to kiss you, although a frown is in his brows.

“Be careful, I already sent for the chauffeur.”  He tells you and you nod.

Coriolanus and Harper stand side by side to watch you leave and when the door shuts, they remain standing there staring at the door.  Eventually they glance at each other but Harper quickly evades his eyes and circles back to the sofa where you previously sat, missing you already.

“I promise I will not be a bother.”  He tells his father who has his arms crossed in his chest, looking at the boy who grabbed a high-end real estate magazine.

“Thinking of buying a property?”  Coriolanus asks as he returns to his desk.

Harper lowers the magazine to peek at his father who is now working at his desk.  “When I get old enough.”  He taps his shoes together.  “I’ll invite mother to come live there too.”

Coriolanus looks up from the document he is working with.  “What about me?”

Not expecting such a question, Harper was a bit hesitant and he stared up at the ceiling before answering his father.  “You can come too”

They minded their own business after that.

Coriolanus welcomed the silence as he got through his job without disturbances.

It was lunch time when the silence was broken.

A service trolley is being wheeled in and Harper perks up at the scent.

He gets up to greet the person who pushes the trolley and the old man dressed in a crisp suit smiles at the young boy warmly.  The man takes his leave after telling them what was under the cloches.

Coriolanus sits with Harper in the lounge as they share the hearty lunch.

“Did you get a lot of work done?”  Harper asks politely. 

You told your husband that your son is only starting to learn how to make small talks and that he should be encouraged when he attempts to start one.

“I did.”  Coriolanus nods.  “Almost done for the day.”

Harper looks at his father in astonishment.

“But it is only lunch?”

Coriolanus nods.  “I was surprised too.  But then again, I stayed up late last night.”

“You did?”  Harper raises a brow.  “Mother slept alone last night?”

The fork stills in Coriolanus’ plate and he purses his lips.  “Your mother understands.”  He clears his throat.  “And this does not happen often.”

Harper continues his lunch, not liking the subject anymore.

“How are your fencing lessons?”  Coriolanus tries to open another topic.

“I excel at it.”

“That is good.”

“Yes.”

This was much harder than Coriolanus anticipated.

He needed a topic, something that would pique his son’s interest.  Something to banish the suffocating formal atmosphere.  They are father and son, for heaven’s sake.  They are acting more like business partners, even the men Coriolanus meets do not act so awkward around him.

“When I was younger, there was this shop I often go to.”  Coriolanus says as he wipes his mouth with the napkin.  “They had the best gelato.”

Harper sets his glass of water down to listen to his father.

“The gelato that our chefs make does not even compare.”  He continues, making his voice light and playful.

Coriolanus laughs at the skeptical look on his son.

“Our chefs make the best desserts,”  Harper argues.

Harper watches as Coriolanus heads to the closet and pulls out a couple of white polo shirts.  They were identical, only differing in size.

“I use these for golfing but I figured they would work fine.”

“Work fine for what?”  Harper walks over to his father.

Coriolanus hands him the clothing with a determined smile as he places a hat atop his head.  “We’re going out.” 

Sneaking out of the mansion undetected was close to an impossibility if it were anybody else but Coriolanus was glad that the staff pretended to have seen nothing.  Harper excitedly walked close to Coriolanus as they strolled around the Capitol.  He only got to see things from the car window and everything looks so different when he treads the sidewalks.

Harper was astonished how people were simply walking past him, not even sparing him a glance.

“They don’t recognize us.”  He whispered giddily to his father who glanced at him with a grin.

Coriolanus placed a hand on Harper’s back as they entered the small shop.  It was not like the ones that Harper usually sees.  It was incredibly small, but its business was doing fairly well.  Harper saw another boy waiting for his cone, and he was almost bouncing on his heels.

Harper frowns, is this all it takes for that kid to be happy?  Even that sailboat he got from the Plinths did not make him smile that widely.

“You’re next in line.”  Coriolanus gently pushes him forward.

A wrinkly grandma is by the counter, she was wearing a pink dress, and her ears adorned by large golden hoops.  “What flavor would you want, young man?”

Harper turns to his dad, not knowing what to get.  He was just used to food being served to him, he never had to make an order before.  Coriolanus points at the options just beside the cash register and Harper bends his head back to see from under his hat.

There’s chocolate and vanilla.  Lemon and hazelnut.

“I will have the caramel, please.”  Harper says politely and the old lady nods before turning to Coriolanus.

“And a pistachio.”  Coriolanus says as he pretends to look at his wallet to avoid looking at the woman.  He was incredibly popular, he would not want to risk people recognizing him.

When Harper receives the crisp golden cone that had two enormous scoops of caramel gelato, he cannot contain his excitement and takes a bite.  Coriolanus snickers when Harper’s lips tighten as his blonde brows raise while his eyes are closed.

“You okay?” 

Harper blinks rapidly as he clutches his head. 

“I am fine…uhm okay.  I’m okay.”  He glances at the sweet old lady, wondering if his formal tone gave anything away but she appears to not have heard it.  “Thank you.  It is delicious.”

Coriolanus pays and he steps out of the shop with Harper focused on his cone, determined to keep up with the melting scoops.  Coriolanus decided to take him to the park he donated and they took a slower pace as they walked through the pathways with enormous trees lining it.

“You’re right.  This is better.”  Harper tells his father.  “I wonder if I can get them to sell their recipe.”

Coriolanus smiles discreetly, a victory.

Harper glances around the greenery, admiring the roses and the pigeons.  One decided to follow him though.  Harper looks at it from the corner of his eyes, trying not to make a sudden move that could agitate the bird.

It was persistent.

The boy quickens his steps and the pigeon hops and hops, using its wings to propel it forward.  When it tries to peck his foot, Harper sprints to Coriolanus.  “Dad!”  He grabs hold of his father’s hand and clings close.

Coriolanus halts his step and as Harper warily stares at the pigeon who flew away in fright, Coriolanus had his eyes on his little boy, who just called him ‘Dad’.

To Harper’s surprise, Coriolanus scoops him up just like how he did when he was still a toddler.  They both look at each other, a million words spoken in one eye contact.

With stomachs satiated, they walk the halls of the Presidential mansion hand in hand.

“Why do we not live here?”  Harper asks curiously.  “Most Presidents live here.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin.  “I prefer to keep my family and work separate.”

Harper nods but he pulls Coriolanus when he sees a gigantic oil painting of someone he knew. 

Coriolanus stands next to him to gaze up at the painting.

“Crassus Xanthos Snow.  Your grandfather.”  Coriolanus tells him.

“I know.  We studied his biography at school.”  Harper says as his soft small hand tightens its hold around his father’s much larger hand.  “Everybody thought it was unfair as he was my grandfather but it’s not like I knew him personally.”

Coriolanus looks at the tall painting, meeting his father’s gaze as the cold unmoving eyes stare down at him.

“I didn’t know him very well either.”  He tells Harper.  “I was very young when he died.”

Harper shifts uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.  He settles with a gentle pat to his father’s hand.  Coriolanus smiles at his boy, appreciating the attempt to console him.

“You know, even after his passing, I still felt him lingering.  His legacy was very great and it is difficult to live under his shadow.”  His smile became sad.

“I might know how that feels, dad.”  Harper slips his hand from his.  “I mean…Father.”

Coriolanus looks away from the painting to look at Harper.  “What do you mean?”

The kid sighs as he glances at him.  “You’re so perfect.  You make the best decisions.  Everybody respects you.  You are the great leader of Panem, you and mother.”

Where were you when he needed you?

“I wasn’t always like this.”  Coriolanus tells him.  “I used to make mistakes, great mistakes.  People did not respect me, they respected my name.”

Harper shrugs.  “Which makes it harder for me because even after all that, Snow landed on top.  If I fail, even after everything I have, I will be a disgrace.”

“You will not be a disgrace.”  Coriolanus grins.  “You dominate every class they put you in.  You learned Paganini’s piece and not everybody can say that.”

Scoffing, Harper scuffs his shoe against the carpet.  “But I did not mentor nor did I become a scholar under Dr. Gaul.”

“I can help you.”  Coriolanus assures him by placing a hand on his shoulder, one that Harper slaps away.

“I hate nepotism.”

This forces an amused laugh from Coriolanus.  “You don’t need it.  You are only seven and you already know words such as ‘nepotism’.”  Harper frowns at his father.  “What I am trying to say is, I can teach you.  My father was not there for me so I have no references as to how fatherhood should be but I am willing to guide you.”

“Like a mentor?”  Harper raises a brow.

“If you want, yes.”  Coriolanus pulls his hat off to ruffle his hair, Harper scrunches his nose as his hair falls to his face.  “And you can keep on calling me ‘Dad’.”

Harper grimaces.  “Only in private.”

Coriolanus laughs.  “Alright, I’ll take it.”

When you arrived later that day, Harper was fast asleep on the couch, the coat Coriolanus wore prior that day was draped over your boy to keep him warm.

“Ah, there she is.”  Coriolanus grins as you walk in with shopping bags in your arms.

You carefully set them down as you waddle to the sofa.  Coriolanus follows after you and proceeds to take your shoes off.  You sigh in contentment as he massages your tired feet.

“And how was it?”  You ask as you place a bowl of dried fruits on top of your round belly.  “Did you get to bond?”

“We did.”  Coriolanus nods.  “We snuck out.”

“You what?”  You nearly pull your foot but he tightens his hold on your toe.  “Corio, that’s dangerous.”

Coriolanus smirks at you.  “The most dangerous thing that happened was a pigeon chasing after him.”

You stifle a laugh.   Oh, you would have wanted to see that.  Strolling around the Capitol like a normal family and free from prying eyes sounds really nice.  A pout forms on your lips.

“I’m jealous now.”

Your husband caresses your calf and leans over to place a kiss on your belly.

“Perhaps when our little princess is born, we can go on more vacations.”

Nodding, you pop a dried strawberry to your mouth as you watch the smile stay on your husband’s face.  His face is glowing, eyes no longer holding a storm inside it.

“Corio, are you happy?”

His fingers still their movement as he raises a brow at you.

“When you asked me to marry you, you said a life with me might be a shot to happiness.”  You continue and he gently lifts your feet off to come sit closer to you.

“Y/N, I have made many decisions in my life and marrying you still remains to be the best one.”  He places a kiss on your nose and your eyes flutter shut, tickling your plump cheeks with your eyelashes.  “You gave me love and two wonderful children.”

You both glance at Harper as he places a warm hand on your belly.

“Everything I am today is because of you.”

“No, Corio.  You cannot give me all the credit-”

He shakes his head.  “Everything I am today is because of you.”

You feel a sting in your eyes and your eyesight gets blurry from the onslaught of tears.

“All I did was scheme.”  You laugh through your tears which he kisses away.

“And look where those schemes brought us.”  He sits tall and looks at his office.  “You brought us on top.”

Happiness was something Coriolanus thought to have been fleeting and sacrificed when in search for glory.  But it was not.  It was the culmination of everything that a person can achieve.

Money, Power, Glory.

They are something he sought for when he was young and naïve, but all three boils down to happiness.

And he was glad you stood by him.  You made him feel things he thought he had no right to.

Coriolanus is happy.  And he is loved.

And he will stain the world red to protect this life you created with him.

Quest for Happiness

[ravisinghs-wife]

The seven + Nico and Reyna and their red flags ✼

warnings: not proofread, swearwords, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: okay I'm sorry I didn't post for like two months, ngl I simply forgot that this blog existed😭

notes to the fic: reader is written as gn (one mention off y/n), but pls don't read Nico's part if u identify as female! :)

masterlist

Percy

he's always barefoot during spring and summer

you'll never catch him with shoes on because he things that they are "blocking the fresh air his toes need"

at least they never get that dirty because he can't survive five minutes without jumping in the sea

when he was younger sally had to force him wear shoes to school, to the parkt et cetera and he was always so angry at her after that because he hated it with all his passion

that anger quickly faded after she baked some blue cookies

after growing up he learned that he should wear shoes to school et cetera but the second he is at camp he gets rid of them

after you dressed it he delegated that he always washed them and kept them clean so there was no wrong doing it and that it's actually healthy for your feet

Annabeth

listen, I love annabeth

but she's always mansplaining

Like u could be talking about ur close family that she only met once and she‘d say something like „actually, i had the impression that…“

It’s so annoying

she doesn't even mean it mean or something

but it also could be just a conversasiation that she isn't even involved in and she'll just randomly pop up and mansplain the topic

jason

That boy doesn’t have any basic knowledge

Like he is at camp jupiter since he’s three or something

I‘m not sure if they even knew what they where teaching him

Like that boy doesn’t know algebra

You could be talking about something in history and how deeply that event infected the way society lives now and he‘d be like „what do you mean?“

And he’s serious

Everytime Percy and Leo make fun of him for not knowing something he‘ll run to you and beg you to explain it to him

Most of the time you make a bit fun of him too because a 17 year old boy who doesn’t know what the french Revolution was is kinda funny

He knows that you‘re just joking though

hazel

I love her but she's like one of the extra careful mom's whose world break when their child hears a swear word

every time you are someone near both of ou swears she has this weird shocked and impressed look and looks around the room

you had to stop swearing around her bc she always starts blushing and looks at you in awe

they don't even have to be the "bad" swear words, it could be something like shit and she'd still be shocked

you had to learn to find alternatives like fudge or fox

she made you browse for the alternatives to swear words for around two hours at midnight and made you subscribe to the mommy blogs incase they had "more cool little alternatives"

piper

she's a die hard romance book hater

she always gives you the weird look when you read one or even only look at one at the bookstore

like she doesn't even have a plausible reason besides that they "always have the same ending and are very predictable"

I mean she's right but still

when she was 14 she had an instagram where she just talked shit about romance books because she was bored

it's not even that she doesn't like reading or books that much, she just doesn't like them because they (as already said) have the same ending and because she gor sick of the perfect romantic ending after drew talked night in and out about it

you once convinced her to read your favorite romance book and she tried her best to be nice

she actually didn't find it that bad and liked the ending but she would never admit that to you

leo

that boy either doesn't shower for one week or takes two hour showers

it's a bit better in the summer but especially in winter he never shower because he "would just get dirty later again"

you have to force him too properly shower because he would just forget it again

and when he actually showers for once he takes two hour showers

but especially in summer he's just gonna swim in the lake and call it a day because he basically "got clean already"

frank

I love frank sm but he would 7 in 1 shampoo

he doesn't get why it's bad and insists that it makes his hair shinier

you try to explain it to him once but he just doesn't understand 😪

he also tries to convince you all the time that it's so much better than owning body wach, shampoo and conditioner

nico

is a pop music hater

he always has this annoyed look on his face when you play pop music

he always makes this disappointed dad sigh and says "again?"

nico sounds so disappointed

he secretly loves it about you tho

reyna

she's like a confused mom and never gets jokes

"what do you mean by that, y/n? I never do that"

you try to explain the joke to her but give up after 10 minutes

she's grumpy for the rest of the day because you wouldn't finish explaining it to her

eventually she gives her pride up and asks you again

and after another ten stressful minutes she finally gets it

she kept arguing that what you said doesn't make sense

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

The next day, Cillian went to see his counsellor, the same woman he had been seeing every fortnight for the past two years, which is also when he had started marriage counselling with your mother. 

Enduring three years of loveless marriage had, of course, taken its toll on him, but now he had a different problem all together as, within a span of just seven days, he became somewhat  infatuated with you.

"Cillian," greeted the counsellor, opening the door to her office, and gesturing him inside.

"Niamh," Cillian greeted, as he walked past her and into the room, taking a seat on the worn brown leather couch, facing the armchair where the counsellor sat.

Niamh was a small, bird-like woman, with blonde hair perpetually pulled back into a messy bun and wire-framed glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose. She was in her sixties and had a kind, open face that put people at ease, and Cillian had always found her to be a source of support and guidance, especially during difficult times in his life.

"How are you doing today, Cillian?" Niamh asked, setting down her pen and notebook.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

"Okay, I think," he began, before diving straight in. "But, to be honest, Niamh, I'm just... confused and I need some fucking guidance," Cillian  said, his voice heavy with frustration and uncertainty.

"I see," Niamh said, nodding sympathetically. "Is it about what we discussed in our last session? Because, as I said before, at your age, not wanting to be intimate can be quite normal," Niamh said gently, referring to the fact that Cillian had lost his interest intimacy about three years ago when his marriage had become more than just slightly troubled.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his tired face. "No, actually, it's not about that," he admitted, meeting Niamh's eyes. "It's about something else.”

Niamh raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, signaling for him to continue.

"It's my stepdaughter," he confessed, "I have some sort of feelings for her. Strong ones, Niamh. I didn't see it coming. It happened suddenly, and now, I don't know what to do about it," he explained and Niamh leaned forward in her chair, her gentle eyes meeting his.

"Go on," she asked quietly, her tone supporting and understanding.

"I am attracted to her, not just platonically or paternally. I want her sexually and I feel guilty about it. I have never felt this way about anyone while I have been married, you know, but now, every time I see her, I am overwhelmed by a need to -" Cillian broke off, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"It's okay, take your time," Niamh said gently, her words an invitation for him to continue when he was ready.

"Thank you," Cillian murmured, taking a deep breath. "It's just that, she's my stepdaughter and I know it's fucking wrong,"  he said, rubbing his hand over his face again.

"I assume that she is, uhm, your adult stepdaughter? Cliona? The one that has been living with you for a while?" Niamh asked after running through her notes, seeing that you had never been mentioned in these sessions before. 

"Cliona?" Cillian gasped. "No, it's her twin sister, Y/N. She moved in with us a few days ago," he replied, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

"I see, and you are finding yourself attracted to her?" Niamh inquired, jotting down his response.

"Yes and it's making things really complicated. I haven't made a move. But when I am around her, I can't help but feel...enticed, and it's consuming me," Cillian admitted, his eyes lost in thought.

A moment of silence passed between them before Niamh spoke, "It's important to remember that feeling attraction to another person is not a crime, but acting on them in this situation can be problematic and harmful," she said gently.

Cillian nodded, taking that in. "I know, and I don't want to hurt her or my wife for that matter," he said, sighing deeply.

"Good. That's a healthy perspective," Niamh replied, nodding encouragingly.  "Now, let's explore this attraction you feel. What is it exactly about her that draws you in?"

Cillian sat up straighter, his gaze lost in thought as he tried to simply her feelings into words. "It's her intelligence and creativity I suppose. Her curiosity about the world is so captivating to watch," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "She's bold and there's a spark in her eyes - an unapologetic, fierce beauty - that I find incredibly attractive," Cillian confessed, his voice softening.

Niamh nodded, understanding the depth of his feelings. "It's understandable that you would be drawn to someone with those qualities. But as you already acknowldged, your feelings are complicated and can have serious consequences."

Cillian nodded solemnly, knowing that his feelings could potentially ruin his marriage and hurt his stepdaughter. "What should I do, Niamh? How do I move past this?" he asked desperately.

He was at a loss of what to do, and the guilt was consuming him.

"Firstly, Cillian, I want you to understand that it is completely normal to feel attracted to others, even if they are close to us." Niamh's voice was calm and reassuring, and Cillian felt a small sense of relief wash over him.  "So, it is important to take a step back and examine your feelings. Acknowledge them, process them, but above all, do not act on them until you have had a chance to carefully consider the consequences."

"I understand," Cillian said, nodding his head solemnly. "But how do I move past these feelings? Because I just want them to stop."  He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"I am afraid that you may not be able to ever truly move past these feelings," Niamh said gently. "And the only way forward, Cillian, is to address them, acknowledge them, accept them, and manage them."

Cillian took a deep breath, his voice filled with exhaustion. "Manage them, but how?" he asked, unsure of where to start.

"By making a conscious decision to distance yourself from her," Niamh replied, her voice firm but gentle. "Even in your own house, do not engage with her  unless absolutely necessary. Refrain from spending any unnecessary time with her. Focus on nurturing your relationship with your wife and your daughter Sadie."

Cillian nodded slowly, taking in her words. "Alright, I will try and do that ," he said, committing to the plan.

Niamh then leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady on him. "It's important to note that these feelings won't disappear overnight, Cillian. It will take time and hard work to manage them, but it's imperative that you do, for your own wellbeing and the wellbeing of your loved ones."

Cillian took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. "I know," he said quietly, feeling more resolved than ever to take control of the situation and do what was best for everyone involved.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[1d1195]

Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

*

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

*

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

*

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him.  “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

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@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[harkonnen-darkness]

• 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭(𝐞𝐫) 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 Part Two

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen imagine (?)

Just something short, but it seems like you liked my first one, so here is Part Two. Also a bit dark Feyd here, I think -> blood etc.

-> Part One 🖤 >> Part Two ⬇️ >> Part Three?

Once again, Feyd loves your gentle touches. He didn't understand them at first, they almost shocked him. He'd asked you what you were doing, twitching and irritatedly avoiding your gentle fingers. It had hurt you deeply, which he had quickly realized. He also realized that he didn't want to feel these feelings. So he drew closer to you day by day and allowed your gentle touches. Not long later, he loves them and enjoys every second of it. He would never admit it, but of course you notice it. And you also love it when he lets himself fall inside you. And it doesn't necessarily have to be sexual. When your hands caress his muscles, when you speak softly and whisper beautiful words to him. Be it about himself, about the death and dying of your both enemies or anything else that would make him happy.

Togetherness with you is very important to him. And he almost doesn't care how. Be it training, simply talking (if there is enough time during the daylight), lying in bed together at night and snuggling up close to each other, even in silence. Words don't always have to be spoken. Your closeness to each other is enough to say. Feyd would never consider silence to be bad as long as you are close together.

He often takes a closer look at your body, especially in the evening / at night. Not just to see what injuries you have sustained during training. Just so he knows that you're here with him. When he had nightmares about your death or your disappearance into the pure darkness several times, he almost didn't let you out of his sight for a few days. Just to make sure that you were still with him. toxically meant *cough* He has these nightmares regularly and is sometimes better and sometimes worse at controlling himself and his actions.

As soon as he have even a shred of time, he'll look for you. He knows all the places you like to go. And if he can't find you, he'll get angry. As soon as Feyd finds you in your or his chambers in the evening, he'll ask you where you've been. On the one hand, he is afraid that you will leave him. Another fear in him is that you will be touched by another man again. There are far too many possibilities in his head of what could have happened, when he can't find you.

The Na-Baron keeps emphasizing that he forbids you to die. At first you thought it was a joke, but each time you realize that he is dead serious. "I only allow you to bleed to death from my bites. Nothing else!" You read a lot into those words. He didn't want you to die in a fight, otherwise you would probably be weak in his eyes. On the other hand, you wonder why he would inflict all that pain to you with his teeth, when they're supposed to be, even in his words, 'love bites'.

Sometimes he unsettles you so much that it drives you crazy. However, you don't show this because you know that it would only lead to problems. But he notices your behavior and asks what's wrong. And he knows 99% of the time when you're lying. But, he doesn't always know what the truth is. But he knows exactly how to relax you and your body. actually, his words THEN only stress you out more lol

He inflicts pain on you in his own way - because he can't and won't do anything else. He bites you bloody when he's in the mood for it and he often holds you so tightly in his arms that it hurts. Sometimes it feels to you as if he could break your ribs in the next few seconds. The Harkonnen is also expressing his feelings for you, because his feelings for you are hurting him. I have explained this a little here. It makes him feel weaker, and he doesn't like that.

At the same time, you strengthen his self-confidence, but also lower it, because he had always sworn that he would never feel anything like love or similar to anyone. It had always been a weakness for him. He had loved his whores, but in a completely different way to the way he adores you.

When Feyd gets the idea, he sprays his perfume on your skin. So that everyone knows you've been with him and his scent 'sticks' to you. He also likes to smell his shower gel on you. It's like another confirmation for him that you are his when you smell like him.

When he has the time and inclination, he simply sits quietly next to you or on the bed and watches you do your hair (whether long or short). He finds the jewelry in your hair fascinating and very pretty. He's rarely seen anything like it before you. And precisely because it's you, he likes to watch you do it. Even when you do your make-up, but he's not a big fan of that. Mascara and, what he likes on you, and pink blush is enough for him. In the evening, at events, he likes to see lipstick on you.

He also finds your clothes fascinating. A lot of it is unusual, eye-catching. Sometimes more, sometimes less elegant. But you know when to wear what. But he doesn't need to see you in sexy underwear. He prefers to undress you completely anyway when he wants to be intimitate with you. But your jewelry, such as necklaces, body chains and rings, can stay on your body.

He knows one, two pretty nightdresses of yours. Nevertheless, he wants to keep you naked or in your panties in bed, pressed close to him. If it's cold, one of his sweat pants on you is fine for him. But he always wants to have your upper body free.

Apart from inflicting bites and hickeys all over you, Feyd especially likes to do it on your back. The large surface is like a canvas for him, which he can decorate as he pleases. Over and over again. He knows that many of your clothes are backless and so his marks are perfectly visible to everyone. This is not the case with your breasts and between your thighs, so your body part lends itself very well to this.

Feyd doesn't really care about the size of women's breasts. The same goes for the bottom. It should match the rest of your figure, that's all he cares about. He also knows a lot about the female body in general. He's already happily interested in it, just to understand it. He also knows what happens during pregnancy (vomiting, sometimes tiredness, body changes etc.) and it doesn't bother him in the slightest. As soon as you're pregnant, he even wants you to lay down your weapons and rest at a certain point. You and his offspring are too important to him for you both to be hurt anywhere.

Since he has feelings for you, he almost doesn't care what gender his child will be. It was only because of you, that he saw that women can also be very good warriors. And he thinks that with your warrior genes, and his anyway, a female offspring can't be bad. A male heir is desired, but with time he can be more or less satisfied with the idea of fathering a female.

Nevertheless, he doesn't want to impregnate you until the Baron, his uncle, has disappeared from the scene. Because you only find out much later that it is traditional to murder the mother shortly after giving birth. A (Na-)Baroness is only useful for offspring, nothing else. With you, Feyd's opinion has changed completely. And once he's Baron, can make some new rules - that would be the first thing he'd change. He wants to have you by his side and give you power over Giedi Prime and the galaxy, not drag you behind him as a stupid slave or doll.

Feyd loves to have pure power over your body. This works best sexually. Knowing what he can make you feel, makes his ego soar to unimaginable heights. When he has control over your body, emotions, mind and soul and he very quickly figured out which strings to pull to make you feel good which sometimes almost kills you. He loves to bite your breasts, the inside of your thighs and your butt. All the parts of your body that can perfectly enclose his teeth.

When he realizes you're not feeling well, he sometimes bites you playfully. Often in the cheek, not particularly hard. Just to cheer you up somehow and hear you giggle. It's more serious for him when he bites you while you're asleep. At best in your back, where you can't run your hands over it. Not so hard that you bleed, but it's woken you up a few times. He lies, says he hasn't done anything. Or teases you and asks if you're even dreaming about him.

I have the feeling that he might find thicker thighs quite attractive. No matter whether it's feminine curves or muscles. He's got something to grab and bite! 😮‍💨

Feyd loves slow sex with you. He wants to touch you completely differently than he treated his pets before you. Ever since you became his fiancée, he won't touch them, even though they often try to persuade him. He doesn't consent.

He sometimes sees you, without ever wanting to tell you, as nightmare and sin. That he gives himself to you, has feelings for you. And will probably never really understand it. That he feels something for you that he never wanted to feel, because love has always been a weakness for him. He doesn't love like others, he loves you in his own way. Yet he knows he can't kill you, even if he sometimes wants to. He thinks that this feeling, this longing and passion for you, could then disappear - because then you would be gone. And these thoughts torment him. He finds both terrible.

Your nickname "Devil" therefore has a much deeper meaning for him than you would ever guess.

If you have seen each other very little or not at all, mostly because of his uncle, you can assume that he will spend many hours with you in a waking state as soon as this is possible again. As already mentioned, he finds it pleasant to listen to you when you have something to say. It's a wonderful pastime for him when he's done training alone or teaching-Na-Baron-things. You read a lot of books about Giedi Prime and other things, but you like much rather have Feyd explain it to you.

He also likes to take a pretty bath with you, aside from the thermals. He's not a fan of hot water, but he tries as much as he can to be close to you. He probably wouldn't admit it either, but he likes the scent of your bath salts. And he doesn't mind smelling like you sometimes.

When he has slept in your chambers and watches you sleep briefly before he leaves, he often takes something of yours with him. Jewelry works well, as he has discovered. He hides it in his sleeve or pocket, plays with it in between (throws a ring up and down, for example). He likes to have something of yours to accompany him throughout the day. If you notice that something is missing, he lies and says with a grin that you should take better care of your things. Then the stuff suddenly reappear.

He couldn't describe how much he loves it, when you lean your head against his chest. No matter whether you are standing, sitting on his lap or snuggled up close to each other. When you place little kisses on his chest muscles, he likes to kiss your skull and nuzzle your neck and hair. Until his comforting purr turns into a deep growl and you know he's in the mood for you.

* It is absolutely no problem for him to satisfy you orally during your menstruation. He did it the first time so that you would realize that he is not disgusted by you in any ways. It's also supposed to be a sign of his feelings for you. He loves to taste your blood, which is sweet to him all the time. And he doesn't care from which part of your body you're bleeding. The main thing is that he gets as much of it on his tongue as possible without having to kill you. On the other hand, he hopes it will distract you from the pain. (Again, he knows a lot about the womens body.)

* Feyd sometimes imagines what it would look like, when you would to bleed to death in his arms. The red liquid would look so beautiful on you, decorating your body like jewelry. He would smile - probably not even realizing that you are dying - your beauty dazzles him, his perception and senses. There are moments when he looks at his knives and swords and thinks about which one he could use to cut your skin and flesh. But he manages to shake the thought aside, because he knows that it would only cause you pain. And he doesn't want that. He sometimes finds release in his dreams and is happy when he wakes up to be able to hold you close to him and hear and feel your heartbeat.

✨Did I forget something? 🤔

Taglist:

[queenjunothegreat]

JASON Realizes He's Got a Problem

Heeeello everyone! I've got a little tiny thing for you all of Jason realizing he's got a massive crush on Leo post Heroes of Juno. Technically, you don't have to have read HoJ for this to make sense, you just have to live in a world where Piper and Jason never dated. Also! I haven't posted this to Ao3 yet, so you all are getting special privileges. >;3c Have fun!

Jason liked Bunker Nine. It was noisy and crowded and just so lived in in a way that Jason couldn’t quite describe. Part of him thought he would hate it, seeing as it was loud and claustrophobic and messy, but he found himself admiring those very traits. He liked being in the Bunker because he felt like he could do anything, be anyone. The Bunker didn’t hold him to any expectation, it just welcomed him with wide open arms and tucked him in close to its chest so that he could feel the very heartbeat of the place thrumming warm and fast under his cheek. He sighed deeply and burrowed his face down into his arms with a contented smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t listening to me.”

Jason half lifted his head and blinked until the blurriness of his vision faded a little bit. His eyes crossed and the image of Leo came into focus, his chin resting on his palm and his bushy eyebrows furrowed up in a pout like a pair of affectionate caterpillars. Jason blinked again. “Huh?”

Leo sighed dramatically. “I have said, like, three jokes, and you haven’t laughed at any of them.”

Jason felt his lips curl up a little bit and he squished his cheek back into his folded arms. “Were they funny jokes?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Leo informed him. “Your only job is to laugh at them anyway and make me feel good about myself.”

“I thought my job was to ‘stand there and pick up heavy stuff when I tell you to.’”

“Do you see any heavy stuff for you to pick up?”

Jason didn’t bother to lift his head, but he pointedly looked around at all of the machinery and equipment that surrounded them. “Do you want me to answer that?”

Leo’s pout from before deepened until his face caterpillars almost kissed. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I’m still in the planning stages for this boat, so there’s nothing for you to carry.”

Jason snorted and hid his face again. “Okay, sorry I was slacking, in that case. Ha ha, Leo, you’re so funny.”

Jason felt something bounce off his head, and he got the feeling Leo was throwing eraser bits at him. “You are such a dick. You need to quit hanging out with Piper.” Jason just hummed in affirmation and Leo went silent. They stayed like that for a moment before Leo called out softly, “Jace?”

Jason hummed again to show he was listening but didn’t look up until he felt Leo poking him. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head. Leo was right in front of him, their faces so close that their noses nearly brushed. Leo’s features were all puckered up and his lips were turned down in a tight frown, which made Jason frown right back at him. “Yeah, Leo?”

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked. When Jason just blinked at him, he cut his eyes to the side and shrank back a little self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s probably none of my business, I just thought you–”

“I don’t mind you asking,” Jason interrupted. “I’m just… confused about why you would, I guess? There’s really, really nothing wrong. Honest. What made you think there was?”

“It’s nothing; just a feeling. Forget about it,” Leo hedged, still refusing to look Jason in the eye. They were silent just long enough for Leo to realize Jason was definitely not going to forget about it, and he huffed. “You just– You’ve been, I dunno, distracted. Like, the past week every other time I’ve talked to you, you’ve just been zoned out staring at me. Last time someone was acting all weird, it turned out Piper was having prophetic dreams about her dad being kidnapped by a giant, so I figured I should ask.”

Jason’s frown deepened. He kinda knew what Leo was talking about, but he hadn’t been zoning out. He was distracted, though. Every time Leo spoke, Jason gave him his undivided attention, but that attention wasn’t always on what Leo was saying. Instead, Jason found himself fixated on the little things like the way Leo’s nose scrunched up when he smiled just right, or how his curls bounced around his head like soft puffy clouds and captured the sunlight like a halo, or the way his crooked teeth flashed with every word he spoke, or the shape of the grease stain smeared over his chin, or–

He shook his head and sat up, realizing he’d been doing it again. “Sorry, man. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Leo looked startled. “Wait, that’s it? Why didn’t you say so? I would have let you nap, if you wanted. You don’t have to hang out with me, you know.”

Jason shrugged noncommittally. “I wanted to, though. I’d way rather hang out with you than nap.”

Leo ducked his head, his cheeks a little darker than before. “Oh. Okay, then.” 

Neither of them said anything else, so Jason hunched back over the table and let his eyes slide shut, content to just bask in Leo’s warm presence while he rested. Leo fiddled with whatever it was he was working on for a while before he suddenly slammed his hands on the table and stood, making Jason snap to attention. “Alright! That’s it!”

 “What’s it?” Jason asked. 

“We’re leaving,” Leo said decisively. 

“What? Why? I thought you were in the middle of something.”

Leo shrugged casually. “I’ll still be in the middle of it when I get back. It’ll be fine.” Jason’s frown just hardened, so Leo grinned. “C’mon, big guy. We can go to the strawberry fields.”

Jason felt his entire being perk up at the idea, but then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You don’t even like the strawberry fields. Why do you wanna go there?”

“I like the strawberry fields just fine when I don’t have to work in them,” Leo argued. Jason continued to stare until Leo deflated a bit. “Okay, fine. Look, it’s obvious that you need a nap, and I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you fuck up your back when there’s a perfectly nice sunbeam for you to curl up in somewhere out there. That’s just messed up, dude. C’mon. Come to the strawberry fields with me. It’ll be nice.”

Jason gaped at Leo for a moment. “But-But your boat.”

“Not to be embarrassing, but I do actually care about you more than a boat. You know that, right?”

Jason felt his cheeks go scarlet and he stared down at his fists clenched on the table and bit back a smile. “I– Yeah. Okay, then. Strawberry fields. If you want.”

Leo twisted around and ducked his head until Jason could see the wide, deliberately goofy grin he wore. “I very much do want. Let’s go, Jace.”

Jason’s face went even warmer and his heart thumped high in the back of his throat. He was suddenly very, very glad that he’d been given a second chance after his run-in with Juno and her true form. If he hadn’t, he’d never have gotten to see the way Leo’s eyes shone bright with warm affection and amusement when he looked at him. He’d never have gotten the opportunity to see that smile so close up. He’d never have realized just how much he wanted to cup those smudgy cheeks up in his palms and press a barrage of kisses on every inch of that wonderful face.

Oh, Jason thought to himself as his brain finally caught up to his feelings. He blinked at Leo in shock for a moment, but his desires didn’t even begin to fade. The more he thought about it, the more familiar those desires felt. They weren’t new, which meant that somewhere along the line, he’d managed to trip and fall in love with his best friend, and now he was stuck laying face down in the dirt with this realization. 

Well, fuck.

[star-dust-stuf]

Theseus/Newt Scamander x fem!reader

title: makes you wanna lose your mind

warnings: descriptions of torture, angst

a/n: so basically this is like a throw off from hp part 1. it's super dramatic, it's romantic too. I just loved the entire setting of part 1 so I wanted it with Theseus and Newt also dumbledore is the readers father. sorry for typos.

-

It was very cold outside of the tent and I didn't know why Theseus would want to be out there at all, his nose was red, and his cheeks were too. I walked behind him as his hands rested in his warm pockets and his shoes where soaking in the snow.

"It's cold." I say, standing next to him, he was a lot taller than me.

He looked down at me and sighs. "It's refreshing."

"You're not still fighting with Newt, are you. I know it's hard being with each other for so long, you're not used to it."

Theseus chuckles and looked to his shoes, "he's my baby brother, of course I'm not still mad at him. But maybe we should go back in the tent, yeah?"

I nod a little, he gently led me back. Of course, the tent was bigger on the inside, my father gave me undetectable magic, knowing what kind of danger we'd be in. Newt didn't have his case with him, Dumbledore kept it in case anything bad is to happen.

Newts coat was off, he took off his tie and looked at the both of us. "I think we should rest. We can't stay here forever, or the Death Eaters will catch up to us."

Theseus looked at me before nodding and headed to one of the beds. I couldn't shake a bad feeling, like I needed to go back outside the tent. "What is it?" Newt asks.

"I don't know, somethings wrong." I reply, I wasn't lying, and they both knew that.

They both withdrew their wands and headed outside the tent where I followed too, my wand at my side. It wasn't too dark, the moon reflecting off the snow made the woods really bright, bright enough for us to see.

"Revelio..." Newt muttered, his wand lit up gently with a soft glow.

Theseus saw as the three Death Eaters appeared. All in black and masked, tall and left a trail of emptiness in their presence.

I tried to perform a protective spell as so did Newt and Theseus, but the Death Eaters were quick to act. Our wands flew out of our hands, and with another flick of their wands we all fell to the floor in the cold snow.

The Death Eaters all retrained us as another figure walked towards us, his blonde hair became more visible, his blue eyes glimmers in the little light. He stood over us... It was Abraxas Malfoy. He smiled slightly.

"You know what to do, come don't waste time."

The Death Eaters Apparated us, to where the snow wasn't as heavy, and the sky was gray, there was a large black gate and a larger manor behind it. It was black, and Abraxas led us inside, his smile mainly on me.

Newt was looking all around him, he didn't know what to do, nor did Theseus when Abraxas used a spell to keep me on the floor.

Theseus and Newt were hand bound by the chains the Death Eaters put on them. Abraxas Malfoy looked down at me, in the middle of the floor in ahis Manor. He was talking. His wand pointing to me as he glanced at Newt and Theseus.

"Oh dear, oh dear. She's so very beautiful, isn't she?" Abraxas spoke deeply.

Theseus struggled against the chains, "don't touch her!"

Abraxas smiled at him. "Now don't you think you can tell me exactly what to do?"

Newt was just as angry, but he was nervous. His voice shook. "She's innocent, she didn't break into your vault. She-."

Abraxas cut him off. "Ohh. But she did. And I know this because when I knew you three where after me, I took precaution. You were looking for the pendant necklace, and you found it didn't you?"

Abraxas moved the hair from my face with his wand as he crouched over me. His voice was soft as he looked down at me. Tears running down the sides of my temples, the black floor illuminated the moonlight from the windows. Abraxas looked down at me and smiled. "We must learn to not steal."

Theseus struggled, he grunted. "Stop!" Abraxas ignored him, he held his wand more firmly at me. Theseus yelled, "NO!"

Newt shouted after him. "No please don't hurt her... don't hurt her!"

Abraxas casted a dirty spell, "please-!" I gasped and screamed as his wand illuminated a soft green glow.

Theseus couldn't help but continue to struggle, couldn't bear to hear it. I struggled against the spell, and I continued to scream. Newt was trying to stay calm as Piget was slowly picking the cuffs chains lock.

Abraxas smirked. "You're a lying witch that deserves to know what you are!"

He continues, the noise loudly echoed all along his manor, Theseus was watching the entire thing unfold as the spell continues to cause pain to my body, my insides burning.

Theseus wanted to do something, he felt useless watching me. Abraxas stopped the spell, he looked towards Theseus. Theseus saw the sadness and pain on my face which made his twist in anger. Abraxas grabbed his jaw causing him to grunt. "Who will save her now?"

Newts chains fell to the black wooden floor. He snatched his wand from the Death Eater and casted a spell to push the two of them back. He did another to unlock his brother's bounded hands and readied his wand against Abraxas.

Theseus and Newt fought against Abraxas and the Death Eaters that entered the room. Theseus wanted to get to me before anyone else could hurt me further. Newt shouted. "YOUR TIE- ITS A PORTKEY!"

Theseus pulled me up, waving his wand over and over till he reached Newt who grabbed his tie and we apparated from the manor. We landed in Hogsmeade where Albus, my father was staying.

Albus knew something was wrong and rushed to our aid as Theseus and Newt supported my weak body. "Aberforth, get hot water!"

His brother ran behind the counter. Albus lied me down gently Newt and Theseus standing above me, Theseus' hands were dirty from getting on the floor to rescue me, some black dust covered his cheeks and his neck, his eyes wet and red.

Aberforth got a bowl of hot water and a cloth, Albus soaked and rung it out before wiping my forehead. "I know she's been in a deep amount of pain."

Newt spoke, shaken up. "Abraxas- used the cruciatus curse on her."

Albus looked at me, sighing. He rubbed my forehead gently. "She'll be alright."

Theseus held my hand slowly. "Why her? She wasn't the one to get into his vault, to steal the pendant."

Albus spoke, "yes, but she's the one who had it in her pocket. She kept it there and he knew that."

I cried loudly as my father wiped my forehead again, my body consorted in pain. Albus gently shooshed me as Theseus pet my hair gently to keep me calm. Newt spoke. "The pain will fade soon enough."

Albus sighed and stood, looking at Newt. "I told you whatever you do, do not get caught and you did exactly what i told you not to. I told you to go to his vault." Newt looked to me and back at Albus. "You put my daughter in danger."

Theseus stood up, "it was my fault, I told her to hold onto it. That it would be safer with her."

Newt spoke, "w-we can leave her here with you-."

Albus shook his head, wiping his hands with a dry cloth. "No, it's crucial you bring her. You two are... Vincible without her" Newt looked at me before looking back at Albus. "Shes exhausted and you two are as well. My brother will take you to a room, I'll get her to a room and stay with her-."

Theseus cut him off. "I can sit with her."

Albus smiles slightly, "alright. Now if you are to require anything, my brother is here."

Newt watched as Albus gave me a gentle kiss on my forehead before leaving. His brother Aberforth gently picked me up, and up the stairs. He got me to a room and lied me in a bed before covering my body with the blanket. Theseus sat in the chair next to me and stayed.

Once Aberforth left, Newt came in, the only light was the fireplace going in the room. "She'll be fine, Theseus."

Theseus nods a little, smiling, relived I made it back. "She didn't deserve what we got ourselves into. She didn't deserve to endure that pain."

Newt looked at me, sleeping in the bed, my eyes puffy from crying. "She's strong, and I think you need to give her credit for that."

Theseus watched me calmly, not planning on leaving my side. Newt smiled a little before leaving the room and closing the door. The next morning, I woke up, Theseus who was half asleep on the chair beside the bed did as well.

"You're alright." He tried comfort me; he leaned forward and rubbed my back.

"My stomach-."

He sighs. "I'll get Newt to help with the pain." He gently put his hand on the side of my face. "It's going to be okay."

I nodded a little. After some time, I found strength to get up and go down the stairs, my uncle Aberforth was braiding my long hair gently, as Newt took care of the pain I felt in my body. There was some snow outside, Hogsmeade was always so beautiful during winter, and I forgot all about it.

Theseus was talking with Albus. "If you take her back out there, I'll be sending you three with undetectable magic. The Ministry won't see it being used."

Theseus nods slowly, he looked at Newt doing magic on my arm. Theseus looked at Albus, "I'll keep your daughter safe. I promise."

Albus smiles softly, "she's strong. But not without the two of you."

Newt looked at Albus and smiled slightly. My uncle finished braiding my hair his hands were far gentler than his face. Albus helped me stand up and he cupped my face, "if you ever need me... I'll be there."

Albus looked at Newt, "oh. And one more thing." With the flick of his wand Newts case appears in his own hand.

Newt smiles slightly, "thank you."

Albus smiles. "Use those creatures to your advantage." I hugged my uncle; I was going to miss him as much as my father. And then I walked to Theseus and Newt, they both saw how tired I was. "And use that portkey, only if needed. Now the Death Eaters know that you three are still alive. And they won't stop till your dead."

[reason-with-the-underdog]

so it's a situationship (ND version)

ok but imagine if alhaitham had in his youth dismissed romance novels as "silly" and only as an adult (post-breakup) did alhaitham start finding value in reading them

so kaveh's very much unprepared for haitham bringing a new romantic male lead energy to their "friendship"

alhaitham, in the days and months after their breakup, starts to read romance novels and character-focused fiction as a way to figure out went wrong in their final confrontation & to understand why kaveh cared so deeply for the feelings of other people to his own detriment

meanwhile, kaveh taped together the torn up thesis and then buried himself with work so he could graduate on time, establish his career, build the palace, etc

which is how we get to where alhaitham seems to have grown a lot since their fight (which was his "rock bottom")

while kaveh's been so busy, he never had time to reflect deeply on the fight

...not until he became bankrupt and homeless & alhaitham was suddenly right there holding out a helping hand

which is why we see kaveh's growth in real time!

kaveh needed a more stable and supportive environment to finally realize the changes in alhaitham and in himself and what that means for how they can relate to each other...!

notice how kaveh's always taken aback when alhaitham suddenly behaves differently than expected

backing down instead of continuing to argue over philosophies

overthrowing the government (!!!)

practically begging to be thanked

the thing is: kaveh is so used to his akademiya-era understanding of alhaitham that its startling when alhaitham has in fact grown up from that unsociable little junior who scoffed a little at his senior when kaveh was distraught over the MC's heartbreak in a novel he was reading

because now apparently alhaitham not only reads that same novel series, he has a personally signed copy of the sequel! and has the next book on pre-order! kaveh hasn't even had the time to read the last three volumes he's been so busy

what is this!! when did alhaitham change??

(what else has kaveh missed in those missing years when they didnt talk to each other)

anyways so nowadays you'll find them curled up on the couch together reading two books from the same romance novel series and kaveh is elbowing alhaitham bc "no spoilers!! you know i haven't had time to catch up until now!"

also consider that the focus on all the nonverbal cues of attraction in these romance novels that alhaitham read finally clued him into the fact that kaveh prob was attracted to him back then

and that their "friendship" may have been seen as something deeper by everyone else...

basically:

kaveh liked alhaitham in their akademiya days, and he figured he was SUPER obvious about his crush and pretty much did everything besides straight up confessing "i like you in a way that's more than friends. lets date"

but alhaitham never picked up on the signs.... so kaveh figures that there's no interest on alhaitham's part.

and kaveh would never outright say "i want to date you romantically" to alhaitham bc of his own experiences with feeling pressured after someone asks him out

(he says yes out of pity and then it ends after the first few dates at longest)

...kaveh didn't want a pity date from alhaitham. so no confession, and he buries those feelings deep down because friendship is good, too

meanwhile alhaitham has no idea what normal platonic friendships are like vs romantic friendships vs romantic relationships (also they're literally teenagers here, being geniuses only makes them worse at figuring this stuff out honestly)

it's only after alhaitham reads several romance novels that he figures out kaveh's feelings post-breakup... unfortunately kaveh is no longer talking to him at that point so......

alhaitham spends the breakup period coming to terms with his feelings & accepting that yeah he loves kaveh

its actually fun for him in an intellectual way how his heartrate will accelerate upon seeing that kaveh's published a response to his latest paper or message board note

plus, kaveh is a public figure so its easy enough to keep tabs on his general well being. even thought kaveh avoids seeing alhaitham in person, they are still communicating over text in an academic way so that's good enough

alhaitham at that fateful tavern meeting never expected anything more, but one thing after another and now they're living together

and oh this is so much better.

and worse.

romance novels never include that the love interest hogs the bathroom for hour-long showers. and those love interests also don't start hammering away at models at 3 am

but alhaitham now gets to see kaveh wide-eyed with excitement over his epiphany (even if its at 11 at night), and he's the first one kaveh tells when he discovers a new blend of coffee he likes or when the bazaar vendors give him a special deal on his favorite fruits

it's funny, kaveh complains constantly about all the books alhaitham leaves scattered throughout the house, but he fails to notice that there are quite a few romance novels incorporated into alhaitham's daily readings

now, as an adult who's done his research (so many novels!) alhaitham's more prepared to notice the signs of romantic interest!

...unfortunately he can see that kaveh acts similarly to how they were in akademiya except with more distance...

which means.... kaveh's not interested anymore

& alhaitham can see how kaveh's still led by his guilty conscience, which is why kaveh goes out of his way to do kind things for alhaitham in return

so: kaveh no longer returns his feelings.

it's ok. there's still value in observing his own emotional responses around someone he loves, even if those feelings are not returned in the same way

[bayfuzzball7050]

My favourite jjba character(s) from each part bc I know it will be more appreciated here than in a Reddit thread

I’ll use this header from now on to yap

Phantom Blood: Speedwagon. Regardless if it’s a whole meme in the community, o genuinely think it’s very brave of him to follow along in an adventure where everyone has powers but he doesn’t. He just raw dog’s every supernatural event and tries his best to be useful. It’s a noble thing.

Battle Tendency: Definitely Caesar Zeppeli. A much more complex and interesting character than his predecessor (William Zeppeli, I mean). I loved his design, personality and charisma regardless if I couldn’t resonate at all with his backstory. I also really enjoyed his rivalry/friendship with Joseph. I’ve always loved the smart/snarky guy x himbo dynamic!

Stardust Crusaders: I love kakyoin with all my heart and soul and I will never shut up about it. I resonated deeply with him since I know personally what it is like to be alone. I like how Araki portrayed his loneliness in a ‘im different than everyone I know’ way where he couldn’t relate to people the way others that. That childhood monologue— god! It hit so, so close to home. I couldn’t help but cry when the scene came up. That is when I realized how much the crusaders mattered to him. A bunch of people ‘like him’ and it’s such a sacred feeling when you’ve been feeling ‘off’ all your life. I also like that he’s always giving little fun facts he’s a bit like yapdollar

Diamond Is Unbreakable: Okuyasu. No question needed. Unlike his brother, Okuyasu is a very kind soul that has never killed anyone (at least on screen) even when he has endured so much abuse from his brother and father alike, something that would ‘justify it’ if he did became an evil character. He stopped looking for a way to kill his father because he can see the good in people and ‘accept them for who they are’. I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him. He had taken what his brother had told him about being better off dead so personally to the point where his first question after being healed by Josuke was (paraphrasing bc I don’t remember well) was something like “why did you save me when it would’ve been easier to let me die?”. Josuke came just in time to make him realize how much he actually mattered so he could evolve into the little goofball we all know and love.

Golden Wind: Giorno. I think most people who call him a ‘boring’ or ‘plain’ character often seem to forget that, of course, Giorno will not be a charismatic, sociable, talkative, — joseph — kind of guy. He was severely emotionally and physically neglected in his childhood to the point where showing emotions became useless since he knew he’d be left shaking in his craddle. From this emotional neglect, he started looking up at a gangster as some sort of parental figure. Someone who showed him basic human decency. Later, we get to see his ingenuity in battle. But I think one of the reasons he was so clever in life or death situations was because he has been in a ‘fight or flight’ mode since a very young age. He isn’t even ‘bottling up’ his emotions, he had repressed them deeply inside his brain to survive.

Stone Ocean: The main three. But mainly Foo Fighters bc they’re so silly >_< and I can’t begin to imagine how marvellous it has to be to, one day, become a sentient being

Steel Ball Run: I can’t quite decide between Gyro and Johnny tbh. Johnny is a character who had been always pampered with his ‘rich life’ and was then shocked with the fact that once you’re not useful, or worse, become inconvenient for people, they stop caring about you. I often think about how bad his father was with him, not only rubbing Nicholas’ death all over his face rather often, the whole “God, you took the wrong son” page or just how he never went by to visit him when he had just gotten crippled. It was just plain cruel. Also when they followed Hot Pants to a church and Johnny had to relive some of his most traumatic life experiences again and still try to win. It was one of the best arcs in sbr imo.

Gyro, on another note, wasn’t a son of a wealthy family but had to carry the weight of generations and generations of knowledge on top of the family profession on his shoulders, having to execute a child. He’s also a silly goofball with his jokes that make little to no sense and him trying to explain the spin to johnny in life or death situations always has me cackling up ngl.

Jojolion: I haven’t started to read JOJOLION, but from what I’ve seen, Gappy seems to be a silly goofball who lacks direction and I love that in a man. Also that he’s a 2 x 1 combo, literally.

Jojolands: I haven’t read jojolands either, but good lord they sold me Dragona and Paco when I heard ‘transgender’ and ‘laburantes’. Plus everyone from the Jodio team also seems to be lacking direction and being a pinch silly

[lurkingshan]

(Different anon) I agree with and understand your points re: ~why you watch GMMTV if don't like??~ and why the question is/feels hostile.

But taking the question itself in good faith as "why do you (should I) keep watching shows I think/know I will not like based on how others have been handled?" in the genuine spirit of "explain like I'm 5 because I don't understand the lingo and background but want to understand the concept, how would you explain it to people not as into/knowledgeable/etc BL and the history of GMMTV?

Hi anon! This is an interesting question, because it depends so much on you as an individual and what makes you happy.

I think there is often a misconception that people who post critical meta are having a miserable time and torturing themselves with media they hate, but it's just not true. For folks like me who enjoy thinking critically, this is how we have fun. When I love something, I want to rip open its guts and see how it's all assembled. It's what stimulates my brain and gets me excited. And when I don't love something wholeheartedly, I am interested in figuring out why. I've often had the experience of watching something that I know should be working on me, and if it isn't, that creates an intellectual puzzle that I find very satisfying to solve. Why isn't it working, and what can that help me learn about storytelling? This is also fun for me.

Another misconception I often see in fandom is that if you like something, you can't have negative thoughts about it and you have to pretend it's perfect to be a good fan. Nonsense! Being a hater is fun, especially about things you truly love. I'll give you a really concrete example: Bad Buddy is one of my all time favorite shows. It first aired three years ago and I still think about it nearly every day. It's a show that stimulates my brain but also hits me straight in the heart. But I do not think it's perfect and I get a lot of joy from thinking about the parts that did not work (Wai's redemption, that stupid fake out in the finale, all of episode 9) and making fun of it (have you heard that PAT GOT SHOT??). This, too, is a form of love and source of joy.

So with those misconceptions addressed, why do I keep watching shows I suspect I won't like? First, because you truly never know until you try, and I like to be pleasantly surprised. Two of my favorite shows of this year, Cherry Magic Thailand and Knock Knock Boys, shocked the hell out of me. I went into CMT deeply skeptical only to be charmed against my will and so impressed by how they adapted it, and I went into KKB expecting it to be like 95% of weak Thai pulps only to realize its writing and themes were stronger than they had any right to be. If I stayed away from all media I thought I might not like, I would have never had the amazing experience of watching and discussing those two shows live with friends who also loved them.

Second, like I said above, I still have fun examining shows that are not quite working for me, and sometimes I am compelled by the ambition of shows even if I don't think the execution is serving. A great example of that is The Sign. I wanted to support that show because of who was making it, and it had so much early promise that when it fell apart halfway through, I stuck it out to try to make sense of what went wrong. In cases like that, I like to figure out what a show thinks it's doing, what it's actually doing, and where the disconnect is. It's a fun puzzle for me to sort through such an ambitious mess of a show. This is why, btw, I am never really moved by fanwanks to fill in gaps in story and characterization. I understand why others enjoy fixing shows in their brains and then pretending that's what they actually saw, but it's not what motivates me. My goal with shows like this is not to get myself to like it no matter what, it's to figure out why I don't like it and what could be changed to address that.

Third, I care about ql as a genre, and I like to be aware of how it's evolving and be part of the collective experience of watching it. QL fandom is tiny and I like to know what my friends are talking about! I can't watch everything because there is simply way too much content these days, but I like to watch or at least pay attention to most of the big buzzy shows to track trends and see what's getting the fandom frustrated or excited. I didn't watch We Are because I knew enough about what it was doing and who was involved to understand it was not for me, but I did pay attention to reactions to it. Watching Jack & Joker with Thai bl fandom right now is some of the most fun we've had since Only Friends killed our spirit. J&J is directed by my parasocial frenemy Tee Bundit, whose shows often frustrate the hell out of me and whom I have ripped to shreds on this platform many times over. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from having fun with this new show, because Joke is The Moment and we're all in this together.

So truly, anon: whether or not you should be like me and watch things you may not like or continue watching shows you don't think are very good depends on what motivates you. You should figure out what is most fun for you re: media consumption, and do that. You can seek out people who enjoy media the same way you do, and also befriend people who think differently if you want to learn from each other and don't mind a bit of productive discomfort from time to time. I have gotten better recently at recognizing when I'm just getting nothing out of a show and dropping it like a hot potato (because some shows are not bad in an interesting way, they are just bad), or realizing which shows I will like better on a binge (usually the ones with terrible pacing, that is not as tortuous for me when I can just watch it all in one go). You gotta do some testing to figure it out.

All of this has all been a really long-winded way to say you should do what makes you happy, and don't assume that just because someone else's happiness looks different from yours, that it's wrong.

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ch. iv

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

anakin opens himself up to the possibility of new love, trust, & honesty

part one | part two | part three

** this part contains soft smut, & implied moments of intimacy **

Falling

He held her for a long time by the mountain, completely lost in listening to the cascade of waterfalls from behind them... 

The water lightly crashing as he kissed her - a bit more patiently, taking his time calmly as they slotted their lips together in tandem with the very sound.

Anakin felt as though he could breathe again, after holding onto so much power for so long - so much pent up emotion. It was a sudden release that for some reason, he knew inside that he could handle a bit better now.

He’d been there before with Padme, going against all of his past values and principles in order just to give in to the deeply rooted love that he felt.

How could that ever be so wrong? To want a real connection with someone; to build a life together based on a foundation of trust.

I could be myself with her.

He could sense her worry in the closing space between them. Maybe she knew something intuitively based on him. The palms of her hands were still slightly shaken from the nervousness of it all - finding him there, hoping that he’d just see her and wouldn’t be upset about the simple act of looking for him…

But he wasn’t. He never was. If only she knew that he’d truly seen her all along. 

And that’s all they both ever really wanted - despite all of his hiding, Anakin just wanted someone to truly know him for the person that he was. Not for all of the bad things he’s done.

she would understand.

If I could just…

let go…

For a moment, she pulls apart from him, eyes full of curiosity, comfort, and care. Brushing the side of his face when his sight falls downward. His shoulders tense. Her hands, doing terribly at relaxing them. 

“If this is all too much we don’t have to…” she begins, taking a step back from everything, just in case he might have been having second thoughts.

“I like…kissing you.” He whispers, before moving closer again. Tracing her cheek almost delicately, which by now had been new for him. 

His touch moves around her face, then finding the back of her ear - settling with resting his palm at the back of her neck all so that he can show her that all of this was more than alright with him.

That, more importantly, she didn’t need to be afraid. 

Not of him.

And her response?

A beautiful smile against the safe haven of his mouth, as if to let him know that he didn’t need to be afraid of anyone either. 

Her head tilts into taking their kiss further, all while their hips follow the others’ into pressing. Everything feels so new, and wonderful. Like the world around them is empty - spinning. Dancing. 

And so, Anakin can’t help himself when he brings both hands up into cradling her jaw - only able to feel her skin with one of them, while the other transmits tiny sparks all throughout his nervous system. A strange, technological receptor that at times he forgets he has, and doesn’t even recognize so much.

But she can feel him there, that certain chill of metal that she seems to know so well now. He can tell she likes it from the way her feet stumble lovingly toward him, almost falling into his chest where he keeps her safest there. Her lovely features pebbling through the veil of clothes, where, in her affectionate imagination, she wishes for his to be gone also. 

Can he read her thoughts? Or, pick up on every mesmerizing emotion?

Their hands entangle, then untangle again - criss crossing before a more wild unwinding happens. He fumbles with his robes before they begin to slip away from his frame; falling - just like they both have, from their special place within the clouds.

There’s an overwhelming sense of courage held in the space between them - a second when Anakin takes a deep breath, as if expecting her not to want him like this, battle scars and all. The ones seen all across his skin, and beneath it. 

But doesn’t he realize that she’s already accepted him? 

In her heart; in her waiting arms?

“You’re so handsome…” she whispers, not realizing that she’s said the words aloud.

It makes him smile softly, when her hands begin her own kind of silent exploration. Enjoying the way his strong shoulders curve; how his breath hitches when the flat of her palms slide across his chest. Feeling as the air within her also starts to catch when he tugs on her clothings’ hems.

So, he takes it as a sign of stopping for a moment. To make sure that she wants this just as much as he does. That when she gives him a wordless nod of yes, even mouthing the word please to him, there’s nothing left to question now. 

Everything slips away, one thing at a time, left in a scattered trail along the river banks. Blades of grass, carrying the wind on either side of them; showing them the way towards tranquility and solace. A quiet place where there is sure to be no disturbances, and they could just be themselves.

“This is better…” he tells her, eyes lidded with a gentle anticipation. Finding peace in the moments where they both are and how they’ve ended up here together. Her thighs settling into a loving embrace on top of him; his kiss becoming more pressing and eager than before. Strong hands, palming adoringly all over her flesh, tweaking the sensitive parts that bud & pebble so beautifully into his mouth.

With a breathy moan, her hips roll against him where they have joined; wanting him - sensing what she’s done to him in the tightened space between, before leaning down to kiss him more. Fingertips, threading themselves throughout all the unruly waves of his hair. His eyes, staring up at her in welcome shades of blue, before getting more comfortable; slotting their limbs together again, and letting themselves go…

He clings to the back of her neck with one hand, while the cool feel of another grasps at her thighs, moving with her in a perfect rhythm that satisfies a certain need for both of them. A feeling that they are unable to fully express.

Is it a kind of loneliness that goes away eventually with healing and time…

Or a foundation of trust that happens suddenly, through touch, and the protection of ones’ hands?

It is almost as if they had wished for this; for the universe to put them in each others’ paths.

And now that they are both here, kissing one another in time with things more heavy and impassioned, they can't even begin to imagine things happening in real time.

That the only possible way this could have ever been, was if it had all happened inside a dream…

Her eyes, never once leaving his when her peak has been so amazingly reached, where all they can do now is rest - foreheads touching, and silhouettes glowing within a golden hour of light…

…

If Anakin could blame anything for his impromptu napping, it most definitely would have been the flowing sound of a nearby creek, or even the warmth of a passing Summer wind…

Yet, this time, there’d only been one reason for allowing himself to tire out and rest. 

It had been the loving presence of her head relaxing calmly on his chest, curling into his side where a protective arm of his wraps itself around her. 

He noticed how in between measured breaths, her body would jump lightly out of her sleep, or how her hands would wind themselves into small fists without even knowing. At that point, he would watch her, rubbing her back soothingly, before unwinding her hands out of their own kind of silent fighting.

There was more to her than he ever realized, finding himself wondering what she could possibly be dealing with all on her own inside her mind. That, he wasn’t alone in his emotions - that if he wanted now, he could most likely be honest with her if he absolutely had to.

I can’t lie to her…

I don’t want to.

Cradling her closer to him, she begins to stir, smiling against his bare skin; eyes gently opening where she’s found herself happy just to have woken up to him. 

“Hi…” she says, almost faintly, waiting for him to kiss her. 

And he does - the first, pressed to her forehead, helping her adjust to sitting up again. The next, coming soon after, a softened brush of lips passing over each of their mouths’ corners…

Then, Anakin pulls apart from her, eyes now the slightest bit more serious.

“If this…is what I think this is, us…you, me… then I need to tell you who I really am.”

A moment of pause passes, while she does her best to listen.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her head tilting, looking up at him.

“My name is Anakin.”

there it is…

please,

say something…

“Anakin…” 

She whispers to herself against a hopeful wave of quiet, wondering if her breath will hitch again…

Yet, somehow, this new name is spoken rather easily - she likes it very much now that she's been able to say it … 

And surprisingly, so does he.

… 💐

thanks so much for reading ! 💌 we’ve made it to the final part of this choose your own outcome story - I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun writing ! thank you again for all the love on this mini series. I would love to know what you think. xoxo 

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 10

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: You guys I'm sorry this took a while. I really put a lot into this so I hope the wait was worth it. ALSO The Tortured Poets Department just came out!!! which means my creative juices are flowing, because nothing gets me thinking like Hans Zimmer and Taylor Swift. Already thinking of some Azriel angst for The Black Dog. ALSO this fic has a a cinematic playlist that goes with it? I can post it if that's something you guys are interested in.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavy angst, descriptions of character injuries, reader got the Mor treatment, last lil bit of angst guys you'll like the end.

Word Count: 5,103

Third Person pov:

Cassian stared at the other side of his bed. The one that suddenly felt so large now. He skipped training that morning, skipped breakfast too. Instead he twirled a small brass ring between his fingers. His mother’s ring to be exact. The last thing he had of hers, given to him by the female that told him where her body was dumped. 

He had wanted to give it to her, his mate.  Longed to see it on her dainty hand. He laughed when he thought about it in comparison to the ring Eris gave her. He remembered the sight of it as she pulled it out after the night he first made love to her. The thing was huge, when he held her hand yesterday he could practically feel the weight of it. The idea of putting a busted up old brass ring on that finger made his heartbreak. He wanted to give her so much more. 

At least, he thought, if she’s married to Eris she will be able to have nothing but the finest things. 

He tried to make that a consolation for him. But he knew that even a gilded cage was a cage. 

It wasn’t until midday when pain exploded through his gut, white hot and unyielding. He sat up abruptly, clutching his heart as he reached down the bound searching for her. Gasped as he realized that golden rope unwinding slowly but surely. He looked deeper, allowing himself to feel whatever she felt. His body temperature dropped as the pain in his gut worsened, and then as if the string was cleaved by a sword he felt nothing at all. A stone wall had dropped over the bond.   

No, no, no, no. 

He shot from his bed, ripping on whatever leathers he could find on the ground of his bedroom. Banishment be damned, he wouldn't let her die. 

Azriel sat on the couch nursing a hangover as Cassian bursted into the room, he tossed him a spare dagger. 

“Get up somethings wrong with y/n,” Cassain ordered the voice of a general making itself known as he laced up his boots.

Azriel didn’t object, didn’t even whine or moan from his aching head as he got up to join his brother. The shadowsinger had always been the calmest of the three, always the most collected. But he had never seen his brother so scared before, and that cool veil of calm that he always kept so wholly intact started to slip. 

It was a short flight to the townhouse and as Cassian landed at the front steps he started to realize the weight of what was about to happen. He had no time to prepare himself for how he would tell his High Lord, his best friend, and his brother in arms about the secret relationship he had been having with his precious little sister. And y/n was precious to Rhys, always had been, even if the trauma they both endured under the mountain had driven a wedge between them. 

Cassian reached through the bond and felt nothing still. He lost all hesitation and nearly blew off the doors to Rhysand’s study. 

Rhysand’s head flew up, and assessed whatever threat would lie before him. His eyes soften when he found his best friend standing in the doorway, but hardened again once he saw the sheer panic in his eyes. 

“y/n is in trouble we have to find her,” Cassian ordered, leaving no room for argument. 

“What do you mean y/n is in trouble?” Rhysand stood to brace his hands against his desk. “If she’s having a problem her husband can help her Cassian.” 

“And what if her husband is the reason she’s in trouble? I came to you for help, but if you won’t offer it I’ll take Azriel and I’ll find her myself.” Cassian growled, a male beyond feral. 

Azriel looked between the general and the High Lord, the stare down between the two so cold, so unyielding that it would go down in history. Rhysand’s violet eyes burned into Cassian’s, looking for the untold truth Cassian was keeping from him. When he didn’t find it, power filled the room as Rhys looked into Cassian’s mind.

“Stay out of my head Rhys!” Cassain grumbled, shaking his head as if those dark talons had already pried into his memories.  

It was too late, and Rhysand’s eyes filled with an anger Cassian had never seen as he winnowed over to where he stood and slammed him against the wall. 

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY LITTLE SISTER?!” Rhysand bellowed in his face. 

Cassian had never been afraid of the High Lord of Night. Not when he showed up at Windhaven with his brand new training clothes, not when he saw him wipe whole infantries off the face of the earth with the flick of his wrist. The common denominator was that he was never on the receiving end of Rhysand’s rage. But now he had a not so friendly reminder that he was the most powerful High Lord to ever grace Prythian, and Cassian was scared. 

“Let me explain,” Cassian choked out, the raw power spilling off Rhysand stifling his ability to even breathe. 

“Rhys,” Azriel warned, that cool calm coming back to him as he watched his brothers at eachothers throats. 

Rhys’ head whipped around to Azriel, “You knew?” he seethed. 

The spymaster didn’t dare speak, he simply took a step back raising his hands in surrender. 

“She’s my mate Rhys,” Cassian ground out. 

Rhys’ eyes met Cassain’s, and saw the pleading in them. The kind that could only be found in a male who’s mate was in danger. He had seen it before, when Kallias talked about Viviane, even before he knew she was his mate. 

Rhys released his hold on Cassian and the general's boots hit the floor with a thud as he started to collect himself. 

“She’s dying Rhys’ I can feel it. She was so cold and then there was just nothing. Please we have to find her.” Cassain pleaded. 

The High Lord seemed to be inside his own head, sorting through all the information he had been given in the last couple of minutes. This was more than just saving his sister, it was saving his best friend’s mate. Losing one would be like losing both, Cassian could never recover from such a loss. 

“If you felt cold she’s most likely in the Winter Court. You and Azriel take the border of Autumn and Winter, I’ll go speak to Kallias and Viviane and see what they know.” Rhysand ordered in a way that was more High Lordly than his brothers had ever heard. 

y/n’s pov:

It had been at least an hour, I had deciphered. The cold winter winds whipping around me as my body became so cold the snow started to bury me. 

I thought about grabbing the dagger just inches away from my frozen hand and plunging it through my heart, but when I tried to reach for it the pain that radiated through my side was too great. 

So I kept pulling on that bond, the rope that had turned to a thread. It felt like it was tied to a boulder, as every time I pulled it I found the otherside dead. The effects of the bloodbane taking away my ability to feel Cassian and my ability to heal.  

As I lay there, my legs becoming heavy as they become covered in a thin layer of frost and my blood spilling out onto the snow, I thought of one thing. 

It was all for nothing.

Cassian’s pov: 

The blizzard that had waged war on my wings yesterday was even stronger today. Thankfully Azriel was able to winnow the two of us to the border with ease. If y/n had truly been left out here then there was no time to waste. The snow and wind was so thick I could hardly see the ground below us. I prayed to the mother that she was with Kallias and Viviane, warm, safe and alright. Because if I found her out here it would be a miracle to find her alive. 

I flew as fast as possible, fighting against the gusts of wind. Azriel was farther behind me, no doubt running his eyes over every place I might’ve missed in my panic. If she was out here she wouldn't be hard to find, for on the border there was nothing but bare land. No trees, and no bushes or rocks. If the snow hadn’t buried her she would stand out like a sore thumb. 

She can’t be gone.

She can’t be gone. 

She can’t be gone.

I was beginning to lose hope, nearing the end of the border when Rhys spoke into my mind. 

Kallias and Viviane have not seen her, they’re sending out search parties as we speak.

My fears only heightened at Rhys’ status report, she was out here somewhere and I was most likely already too late.

No she’s not gone.

I told myself as I tugged on the bond one more time to see if there was still that concrete wall there and to my surprise I found a faint hum. The rope between us torn to shreds, I almost felt like if I tugged on it one more time it might disintegrate.  

“I can feel her!” I shout to Azriel over the wind. He shields his eyes from the wind to give me a nod, as he continues to search for her. 

My eyes scan the vast expanse of white below me until I see a small crumpled form, lying in the snow. 

No. 

I don’t think for another moment before tucking in my wings and diving straight for it. As I slam into the icy ground. I rush over to the heap on the ground and my worst fears are confirmed. 

There lies y/n with her back facing me, nothing covering her but a silk robe. Her body littered in bruises and blood pooling all around her. I fall to my knees before her, ignoring the bite of the snow. I pick her up and turn her carefully in my arms. The frost that covers her cheeks isn’t the worst of my concerns as my eyes fall to her stomach. There, nailed to her womb is a note that reads… 

‘WHORE’

I feel a liquid coating my hand and I hold it up to find blood. I spy a bloodblane laced dagger lying in the snow just a foot away. I reach down inside for the bond but I feel it disintegrating before my very eyes. 

“No, no, no Princess wake up!” I cry moving the hair from her frozen face. 

She doesn’t move. 

“Please wake up y/n!” I scream, my tears falling on her face as I try to shake her awake. “COME ON!” I growl. 

A shadow slams into the earth behind me and I feel Az’s presence behind me falling to hitting his knees next to mine. I don’t try to read his face, if he looks at her like she’s dead I don’t know what I’ll do. Instead I focus all my efforts on trying to get those frozen eyelashes to open up for me. 

“Come on baby come back to me,” I grit, pressing a kiss to her forehead. My lips bite at the coldness there. 

“Cass I told Rhys, he’s already home,” Azriel reported, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give her here,” he began reaching for her.

“No, don't touch her,” I growled, holding her closer to my chest. 

“I can winnow her back faster than you can fly her. You need to trust me Cass or she’s not going to make it,” he pleaded calmly. 

I sigh knowing that my brother is right and that my territorial male bullshit would only kill her. I reluctantly give her to Azriel and it isn’t until he stands with her that I realize how small she looks in his arms. How breakable, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. 

“Save her Az, please,” I beg, still on my knees. 

“Hang tight Cass I’ll be right back,” he says winnowing away. 

I’m left with the aftermath, and the roaring wind that’s practically white noise by now. In front of me is the imprint her body left in the snow and ice, as well as crimson colored snow. The knife that lay just a foot away identical to the one that was jabbed into my side just yesterday. I nearly threw up at the idea that she had felt that white hot pain of bloodbane making its way through her blood. 

A few minutes later Az winnowed back and took me with him to the townhouse. We landed in the foyer, and I didn’t hesitate to bound up the steps towards her own room. The door was flung open and Rhysand was already pacing watching Madja do her best work. 

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, unable to rip my eyes away from her too still form lying on the bed. Her hair is still frozen, lips still blue. 

“We don’t know yet,” Rhys answers in a tone so somber it pulls my attention. His eyes are just as bloodshot as mine and his hair is sticking up all over the place like he had been running his hands through it too much. 

As Majda stitches her wounds and assesses every inch of her, I find myself peeling off some of my leathers. The place was practically a sauna with a roaring fire heating the room and the bedpans littered about her bed. Even Rhys had a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead. It was the only thing that could be done, to warm her up. 

I stared at my mate's unconscious body, and prayed to the Mother that she wouldn’t take her away. Even half frozen, battered and bruised, she was still so beautiful, still the Jewel. Still my princess who I had fallen for all those years ago.

Please Mother, please don’t take her. 

If anything, just let me see her one last time. See her beautiful eyes and kiss her lips. Allow me to hold my mate one last time while her heart is still beating. 

As Madja worked her hands up and down her body she didn’t say a word, didn’t even breathe loudly, as if she was listening for something. Her behavior affected us all, as we stayed completely silent, the only sounds in the room coming from the crackling fire.

So when her shoulders slumped and she sighed, the breath echoed throughout the room. My stomach sank as she turned to us with a somber face. 

“Before she was left out there she was taken by force, that’s where the bruises are from. The wound to the right side was caused by a dagger laced in bloodbane, she was practically mortal when he left her in the snow. And the wound to her lower abdomen? It hit her womb, if she ever wakes up she may never be able to have children,” Madja says sadly. 

“If she wakes up?” I ask quietly, praying I heard wrong. 

Her eyes meet mine and then Rhysand’s, “We’re losing her.” she begins and I swear I feel my knees about to give out. “I can’t access her thoughts or her emotions, but given what she’s been through, it seems she’s lost the will to live.”  

That was it. 

I take the two steps to the edge of her bed and my knees hit the ground as I begin to weep. I slide my hand under the piles of blankets, careful not to disturb them, and take her hand in mine. Gods it’s so cold.  She had always had cold hands, she used to put them under my shirt to warm them up. But this was different, her hands were like ice. She didn’t even feel like her. 

“Maybe if I can look into her mind?” Rhys breathed, the angst ridden in his voice. 

“You are welcome to try my Lord,” Madja said solemnly, like whatever he found wouldn’t be of any use anyways. 

I hear Rhys' footsteps walk around to the other side of the bed and kneel. He places a hand over her head, his palm twitching from the sudden cold that was there. I watched intently as his eyes closed and brows furrowed. As he went deeper and deeper into her mind his face contorted until it began to soften once more, and a single tear fell from his face. 

“What? What is it?” I asked, my voice cracking. 

The High Lord pulled his hand from his sisters face to wipe his stray tear,  “Madja’s right. She’s given up. Her last thought was that she had lost the Autumn Court’s armies and she had lost you too Cassian. After everything that happened, it was all for nothing.” Rhys relayed sadly. 

“But she’s here now, she’s safe, she has to wake up,” I pleaded, squeezing her too cold hand tighter. 

“She doesn’t know that she is here though general,” Madja says calmly, like if she spoke any other way I would rip her to shreds, which was probably true. “She fell under thinking she would never see you again.”

“What can I do? I’ll do anything.” I plead with Madja. Hell I’d trade places with her if I could. Her people needed a princess more than they needed a general.

“I’m afraid there is nothing any of us can do. All we can do is wait and hope she comes back,” Madja says sadly. 

“I want you to take up quarters in the town house for the time being,” Rhys ordered.

“Of course my Lord, I will be checking on her constantly,” Madja nods, collecting her bag full of tonics and bandages.

“Is there anything I can do for you Cass?” Azriel asks, placing a hand on my back. 

“No,” I say solemnly, pressing my forehead to her hand. “Just leave us.” 

Neither one of my brothers protested. The only indication that they had left was the door closing and the silence that had followed. Their muffled voices went down the hall, no doubt to show Madja where she would be staying. I was sure that Rhys would be back to check on his little sister once he was done. 

I lifted my head from where I had it pressed against her hand to see her face again. Her skin was still pale but the frost had melted off her eyelashes and skin. Hickies littered her neck and a faint hand shaped bruise wrapped around her neck.

Gods what had he done to her? 

“Princess I don’t know if you can hear me but you have to open those pretty eyes for me okay?” I pleaded with her. “It wasn’t for nothing baby, I’m here now and I’m not going to let anyone take you away again. You were so strong and so brave but you don’t have to be anymore, you just need to wake up. Just wake up and I’ll take care of you okay?” 

I feel my tears starting to well up. I didn’t just want my girlfriend back, or even my mate. I wanted my best friend back. I thought about what a lonely world it would be without her. 

“We can go back to reading your silly books while I tickle your feet. And you can whoop my ass and drink me under the table when we play Marks again.” I laugh remembering the time I taught her how to play the ridiculous drinking game, it felt like so long ago now.

“You have to come back to me because we have to have the most ridiculous and ornate mating ceremony ever.” I chuckle through my tears picturing how much she would detest the idea of an over the top event. “And you gotta wake up because I wanna make you my wife baby.” 

I feel the lump in my throat form, remembering the brass ring I had left on my nightstand from this morning. I had almost wished that I had felt the same sadness I felt then now. For nothing could compare to the agony of the mating bond slipping out of my hands like sand falling through an hourglass. 

“But we can’t do any of those things until you wake up honey, so you gotta open your eyes for me okay?” I say trying to smile. 

Her eyes don’t open, I’m not even sure if her chest rises and falls to breathe.

“Please y/n wake up! Please don’t leave me, I can’t live without you.” I plead, my tears falling faster than ever now. 

 I let out a groan as I press my forehead to her little hand again. My chest caving in as I find the skin there still cold.  Fuck it, if she can’t hear me than I’ll beg to the gods who might. 

“Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t take her from me.  Please don’t take her from me…”

Rhysand’s pov: 

After I show Madja where she can set her things and take a load off, I slump into an armchair in my room and run my hands through my hair. For the first time today, I’m finally hit by the weight of what the past two hours have been.  

The images of what I saw when I reached into y/n’s mind were enough to make me shudder. I was so blind to her pain. So focused on my own mate, and my own trauma, I forgot that she went under that mountain with me. And what’s worse is that she felt like she owed me an army for saving her. I almost regret going so far back into her memories that I saw it all. The things Eris did to her, the way he spoke to her. The conflict she felt. 

But then there were moments of immense happiness. Each one of them featured Cassian in one way or another. Images of him lacing up her dresses and placing a kiss on her shoulder when he was done. Her laughing in the early hours of morning with him. I had never seen my brother smile so big or love so much. 

Oh gods Cassian. 

I thought to myself, remembering the look on his face when he saw her lying prone on that bed. His agony that practically filled and infected everything in the room. He needed me, and I needed to see my little sister. 

My tired body creaks as I stand from the chair with a groan, making my way next door to y/n’s room. The same one I used to sneak her out of when we were kids. Sometimes I miss those days and how simple everything was. 

I opened the door slowly to not disturb Cassian. The light from behind me illuminated the mostly dark room. The only other light source was the fire. Cassain was right where I left him, kneeling on by the edge of the bed, stroking her hair whispering sweet nothings to her that I couldn’t hear. 

I make my way inside and close the door to keep in the heat as I sit on the opposite side of the bed. It isn’t until the bed dips under my weight that Cassian’s eyes meet mine. In all the years I’ve known him I had never seen him this way. His eyes were bloodshot and weepy, and the bags under his eyes prevalent. It reminded me of when I thought Feyre had died under the mountain, and I supposed that made sense given this was the same thing.  

“Has she?” I asked, wondering if she had shown any signs of life. 

“No,” was the only answer the general could give me. 

My eyes fell to my sister once more, unable to take the sorrow that came from Cassian’s stare. The frost that once covered her face was now melted, and her lips were no longer blue. However, pink had not yet tinted her cheeks and I wondered if it ever would again. It raised the question, how could I have prevented her from meeting this fate, and prevented Cassain from having to feel this pain. I was the most powerful High Lord in History, but right now I had never felt so small. 

“Why didn’t you tell me she was your mate?” the question spilled out of me. “If I had known I would’ve stopped the wedding immediately.” 

Cassian lifted his head from where it was pressed against her hand and looked at me again, “For the same reason your mate is still in the Spring Court. She deserved to have a choice.” he said to me, and though his words held no anger, no resentment, they were a punch to the gut. 

“I’m a terrible brother,” I admit, my eyes falling to her. 

“No you’re not. She did what she did because you are a good brother. She wanted to help you in any way she could, at any cost.  That’s how much she loves you.” Cassian spoke, his voice quiet and even toned. “But things might’ve been different if you two hadn’t distanced yourselves when you got back from under the mountain. Whatever you guys saw down there? Whatever happened? You need to face it together, Rhys. If she wakes up, you need to be as close as you once were.” 

Gods, for a general my brother had a way with words. He was right about all of it. I had distanced myself from her after we came back. Thinking that I could spare her from the pain I felt, but I had forgotten that she had gone under that mountain with me. She had demons to battle as well, and I left her to fight them alone. 

“She will wake up Cass,” was all I could say. “She has to, because I have to make things right.”

y/n’s pov: 

Waking up was slow. 

First all I could hear was the crackling of a fire and slow steady breaths. Then I smelled the familiar scent of night blooming jasmine laced with cedar. Next was the immeasurable warmth that fanned my face, and last was the feeling of a strong calloused hand holding my own.

I squeezed that hand ever so slightly before finally opening my eyes. I looked up at the familiar ceiling of my childhood bedroom, the constellations that had been painstakingly painted there. To my left a roaring fire and to my right… Cassian. Kneeling at the edge of the bed his forehead pressed to my hand. His breaths rising and falling slowly, the way they always did when he was asleep. 

“Cass,” I rasped out, my voice still uneasy. 

His head flew up and his eyes were on me in an instant. I loosed a sob at finding that familiar hazel staring back at me. The face I thought I would never see before. 

“Oh my god baby,” he smiled, pressing his lips to my forehead. “You came back to me, thank the Mother.” 

“Cassian, I'm so sorry. I should’ve listened to you.  You were right about everything and I should’ve stayed and-” I began to ramble through  my tears. 

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed, brushing a tear from my eye as a few of his own fell. “Don’t worry  about that now. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you know” 

The bond tugged at his promise and I was reminded of the blessing I had been given, “You’re my mate,” I smiled pressing a hand to his face. He winced at the cold but then laid one of his own hands over it, bringing it down to his lips to press a kiss to my palm. 

“Yeah I am,” he laughs. “And you’re mine.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him as he continued pressing kisses into the palm of my hand. 

“You were already dealing with so much y/n,”  he said softly. “I couldn’t make things even more complicated or try to control your choices. Not when this alliance was the first thing you ever got to choose for yourself. But I should’ve told you and I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh,” I soothed him like he had me moments ago. “We both made mistakes Cass, but none of that matters now that we’re together again.” 

“You’re right,” he smiled, kissing my forehead.

“The only thing we need to worry about now is Eris and whatever he does next,” I say, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, the stubble there telling me he hadn’t shaved in a while. 

His eyes hardened as he pulled my hand from his cheek, grasping it in both of his hands as if he was praying, “If he comes back for you y/n I will fucking kill him. I swear to the Gods I will invoke the blood duel-”

“You will do nothing of the sort Cassian. I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.” I say firmly. 

“Are you doubting your general?” He gave me a cocky smile.

“No, but I don’t trust Eris to play fair. If he comes back Rhys will deal with him.” I assure him.

“As your mate I have the right to defend you,” he reminds me. 

“You’re right, you do. But if we don’t handle things just right Eris could declare war on us. I won’t let my people be attacked by Hybern and the Autumn Court.” I explained to him. 

Cassain nodded. I could sense the disappointment in him, and I didn’t blame him for feeling that way. I would’ve paid good money to watch him kill Eris. It was scary enough when someone hurt another male's mate. Especially when the affected male is The Lord of Bloodshed. 

“And Cass?” I asked. 

“Yes?”

“You were wrong before, about my choices. The first thing I ever got to choose for myself wasn’t Eris, Cassian. It was you.” I smile looking at the best decision I had ever made. I would never come to regret asking him to kiss me after that ball. Not when it had brought me his love. The best thing I never knew I needed. 

Cassain smiled and then let out a hearty chuckle, as if he had finally realized that I was back, and we were together again, and we would be together until The Mother called us home. 

To be continued…

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