#there will be lots of hurt/comfort and angst

[katiascraft]

༄“I would set the world on fire for you” | LN4 ⟢

Parings: lando norris x gf!reader.

Summary: after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Word count: +5k.

Warnings: written and smau. angst and fluff at the same time. Anxiety attack. Overthinking. Selfhatred. Language. And that’s it. I’m not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: lately I NEED to write things to cope with my feelings so here it is. Hope Vegas is good to all of my boys 💌 don’t forget to like, reflow or comment! Ur support its way loved here. and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Your heart was completely shattered. Your heart was racing to get out of your car at the airport. In exactly 20 minutes your boyfriend will be back home after the worst weekend ever imagined. You couldn't assist the Brazilian GP because of your work schedule. You had a few meetings after Mexico gp. And you felt so guilty about it. You knew lando would be more protected if you were there. At least in the intimacy of you, emotionally speaking. Having someone there for him to hug and to comfort him. to calm his mind. To stop the self hatred you knew it was playing right now in his head. 

Lando is an overthinker and you get him because you were also one. You knew to which scenarios his mind can travel to and how painful it can be for him to live with himself sometimes. You were fighting your tears reading all of the atrocious things people commented online. You knew that wasn't real life. But you also knew he would see all that and how that would weigh in his heart. They can never let him win. And the worst part was only because it was just him. Other drivers could do or say worse things and everybody would laugh and brush it off. But when it came to Lando, he was a monster, a loser, an arrogant son of a bitch. That hurt deeply. Because in reality lando is the sweetest soul you have ever met. And you knew how vulnerable he could be. Tho you always admired him for that. You always thought that the bravest and strongest people in this world are the ones that admit to need help, the ones that are vulnerable and open about it. In a world this cruel, that was no easy task. But he did time and time again.and he did even knowing how shitty people were gonna be to him. Though, he did it for people he knew that counted on him. Lando always talks about how people sometimes come to him saying he has saved their lives and the impact he had on them. It's something beautiful yet that weighted on his  shoulders as well, you thought. 

You crossed the airport gates. Anxiety shaking your whole body. You wanted to hug him so bad. To tell him everything was gonna be fine. 

You opened the flight information he sent you before his plane took off so you looked for the probable gate he was coming out of when landed. Even though you were anxious you were also relieved that he was home with you.

After a few minutes passed by, a lot of people started coming out of the door you were waiting for. You started gazing at everyone just to find him. After a bunch of people got out, there he was. One of the last ones to go through the door. When you saw him your body almost came undone. You were out of air for a moment while the two of you got closer. When he is finally within reach, you give him the strongest hug you could. He melted on you, hugging you by your neck. Not much time passed when you heard him crying hid in your neck. Your heart that was shattered, broke immediately. You tighter your grip unto him. He started to sob and you couldn't hold your own tears at that point. You knew he had the worst time on that flight, alone with his cruel thoughts torturing him for hours. And there was nothing that you could do to protect him. You couldn't say a word. There was nothing that you could say that it would make things better right now. 

Lando was sobbing and shaking. His levels of anxiety reached a high when he saw you standing there looking for him desperately with your eyes. He needed you. But life’s a bitch and you couldn't stay with him throughout the whole American leg. He came undone in your arms. He needed to hug you for so long. He was broken. His mind replying to all the mistakes he made. All of his wrong decisions. All of the shit he said. He was embarrassed, angry and defeated. He was ashamed of himself. Disgusted. Frustrated and scared.  

Yu rubbed his back trying to comfort him in the hug and trying to not cry so you could be the strong one for him. He needed you, you knew it. And you wanted to fix all of this in a snap of fingers, but you couldn't. 

“It’s okay baby. You are gonna be alright, I promise. I love you. You’re home now ", Yu said, to make him feel at least slightly better. When he heard you he started sobbing even harder. You let him take all the time he needed. While doing so, you tried to see where you were and how you could, if someone was recording and taking a picture. Fortunately you were almost alone. It was the last flight arriving for today. You feel relieved knowing this won't be used against him by the cruel internet trolls. 

(...)

The drive home was silent. No music, no speaking. He didn't even look at you the whole ride. He was looking through the window avoiding any contact with society you thought while driving your Audi R8 V10 GT RWD through the illuminated Monaco streets. It was around 9pm. You had cooked for him some home made pasta you knew he adored. You just wanted him to feel better. 

When you got home, he took his bags to the room with your help. You left his second suitcase next to his wardrobe and saw him lying on the bed.

“I made your fav homemade pasta. Do you want me to bring it here and eat it in bed?” you offered him with a soft voice. He was looking to the ceiling. He did not answer right away, but after a few moments he did.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you. Maybe i'll eat later” he said with a deep cracky voice and turned himself in the bed showing you his back. You frowned a bit. 

He couldn't look at you. He hated that you could see him like this. He was ashamed of himself drawing in self pity and self hatred. He felt he let you down. 

“Aln, did you eat something during the flight at least?” you asked worriedly, walking forward to the bed so you could get closer to him. You sat on the table next to his back looking at him. You didn't want to touch him just because you didn't know if he would want you to. You didn't want to be invasive. You stayed in silence for a few minutes. You understood he didn't eat, that he didn't want to either or speak. So you stood up and let him have his alone time closing the door gently behind your back.

You ate alone that night.in silence just as if you could hear him from your kitchen aisle. The past was really good. You turned off your phone after washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen and living room up. You didn't want to see what social media was saying about your lover before bed. It was already enough scrolling and reading so many people wishing lando to die. That was the hardest part of it all. You left your phone charging on the kitchen counter and went to your shared room. When you entered he was already showered getting into the bed again. You half smiled at him even though he couldn't see you. You put on your pajamas in silence and climbed up the bed. He looked at you while you were getting comfortable next to him. 

Your eyes met. Any of you said anything. Just looked at each other trying to read each other thought as if that was possible. He licked his dry lips. His eyes turned glassy.

“I messed everything up,” he said almost in a whisper. Your heart is breaking again. You shook your head at him getting closer and bringing him into your chest. You hugged him tightly.

“No you didnt baby. Sometimes people are just mean, you know? They will interpret things as the wish” you said softly rubbing his back and arm and caressing his hair gently. He felt a bit better under your frame. He felt protected but as a little kid when missbehaved so now he tries to find comfort. He didn't want to cry.he was trying hard not to let tears stream down his cheeks.  You kissed his forehead and made him look at you. “I know you dont wanna talk about it but i  love and i am so deeply and entirely proud of you” you whisper close to his face. You saw him pout and the first tears coming down his face. You hugged him tightly. He hid in your neck and eventually fell asleep. You wanted to set the world on fire for this. You wanted to ruin every single person who says awful things about it. The comments, the media. You wanted to destroy everything and everyone just to protect him. He doesn't deserve this. He is an angel and you can't believe the world could only see the devil in him. 

Lando tried to sleep but he couldn't. Everytime he closed his eyes, all of the tragic scenes from the race replayed in his mind. How the car felt, the rain, the radio messages, Oscar's voice, comments from his engineer . everything replayed in his head torturing him the worst way possible. He felt like getting down. He felt alone and miserable. He remembered Oscar words replying in his mind over and over again. “You will eventually make it, mate”. It was a positive message but he replayed it like a fucking nightmare. 

What if he never makes it? What if he doesn't have what it takes? What if people are right? What if he is actually a monster and deserves to die? What if he did? Would they like him again or figure him out? Would anyone care about his feelings? Why does it have to be him and not someone else? Why are they all so cruel to him?

He couldn't stop thinking about every single detail about the weekend. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore. He had you there but couldn't look at you. He felt disgusted by himself. He can't control it. He wants to go back into go karts and stop the time when he was actually happy and having fun with his friends. Now that line between friends and enemies is so blurry for him. Max didn't talk to him like before when all of this shit started. He knew Max was really competitive, of course he did, everyone knew it since day 1. But what about their friendship? Lando shit talked, max shit talked. He felt so confused even by his own feelings around this whole shitty situation or championship situation. Whatever you want to call it. 

(...)

When you woke up the next morning he was gone. You felt kind of confused for a bit. You heard him talking so you guessed he was speaking on the phone. When you got up from bed you walked out the room to find him. When you got closer to the living room you knew he was talking to Max on facetime because you heard his voice. 

“Morning, guys” you said, getting into the kitchen for some water to take your thyroid pills. Lando looked at you half-smile. 

“Good morning baby” he said as sweetly as he could. You smiled at him. Before coming back to your room to shower and stuff you went and gave him a good morning kiss making Max almost throw up when he saw you in a funny way. You showed him the middle finger and disappeared so he could talk in private with his mate. You respected his place a lot. And i guess that’s why you understand so much each other. 

(...)

The following day things got worse. Lando hasn't eaten any meal you prepared for him, didn't even want to have take out or anything. You found him crying in the kitchen and in the garden by the pool of your house. His anxiety was killing him, you knew. The desperation and guilt were eating him alive and you didn't know what to do rather than try to talk and comfort him.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room. His sight was fixed on the floor without moving. You got alarmed because you knew what was going on. You got close slowly to not trigger him even more. His face was red, his hands sweaty and shaking. You sat on the floor diagonal from him looking at him. Slowly and gently you grabbed his hands trying to capture his brain's attention and get him out of the fog he was in. You were almost sure he was having an anxiety attack and he started because of your touch. You gently rubbed your fingers in his hands. He was out of breath for a moment and you got scared so you tried to do as your therapist told you in case someone you know goes through this. 

“Lan, can you hear me? Try to pay attention to my voice okay? I'm here and I'm with you dull be alright” you said really softly trying to make him look at you. You looked for his eyes with your gaze. “It’s not as terrible as you think, baby, I promise. You aren't all of those things people comment” you used your words carefully. His hands caught your strength and so you reassured him. You saw his pout becoming deeper. You hurt to see him like this. It was so unfair. He doesnt deserve this, god. And he broke. He broke down again. His tears streamed down his face. Sobbing in so much pain. You sat next to him to hug him tightly once more. But now you knew it was worse. He was shaking under your arms.you let him go through this. So he can let go of all of this shit inside him. “I promise lando, you aren't all of those things. People are just mean and cruel. You are a good baby and so talented. Gifted. You have it in you I promise, I can see it” you tried to comfort him with your words as well, trying to distract your mind from the tragic thought he was dealing with by himself. A few tears fell down your face. It was a hard time. And you were trying to be strong for him. 

“I'm so stupid I'm sorry” he sobbed and you shook your head. 

“No, Lando, you aren't. I promise okay? Believe me.i know you and you aren't. And this will pass. All the people that know you for real, we love you and we are so proud of you. You had an amazing year. You are fucking fighting a three time world champion, even sooner than he did with lewis back in 2021. That’s huge my love. Your dream is near, I just know it. Because I know you, and you’ll make it, baby. You didn't let anyone down. You're getting stronger so when you finally make it, all of these moments will make it taste so much better and sweeter” you explained while rubbing his back. Your words made an effect on him. Heslowly calming down. He didn't want to let you go. He wanted to just stay there in your arms. Where he felt safe and sound. Noone could hurt him there. That was what made him fall for you. You saw him. You knew him. And you care about him. He was finally important for someone for being lando, and not lando norris formula one driver. His past lovers left him feeling confused whether they loved him for him or their idea of him. You came outta nowhere and blew him away. You were brutally honest, no filter yet so gentle and caring with your words. He thought his perfect girl didn't exist but then there was you, listening to him for hours if he needed to. Giving him the best advice and clearing his perspective. Always cheering him up. Cracking jokes so he could distract and feel relaxed. Heknew he was in love with you the moment you offered to give him a ride because he was drunk as well at a new years party. It was normal but the fact that a stranger could do that for him blew his mind. He never admitted afraid people would think it’s weird. But it is what it is. Your smile ended him right there and when you started cracking jokes he didn't want to live in that damn car for the rest of his life. So here you are 4 years later,and you still be the greatest person in the world and the one who knew him the most. He felt your lips on his forehead. For a moment he thought about leaving racing. What if his life was better without it in it? He could go back to Bristol and be with his friends. With you. Maybe start a family and have a normal job so you could spend each day together. He started crying again at that thought. He loved racing but this year was the hardest yet amazing one. 

He finally calmed down after a few minutes in silence. He looked at you with puppy eyes. You caressed his face gently brushing a few tears falling down still. 

“Would you be there with me? Could you?” he asked, making you a bit confused. And he noticed. “To the races. I need you there. Please. To every race and when I become a champion,would you be there with me? You could feel he's scared. You half smiled at him melting as his comment.

“Of course I'll be there, baby. I’ll always be there for and with you. If I could , I would set the whole world on fire just for you. Never doubt it, okay?” he nodded and you pulled him closer to give him so many little kisses around his whole face making him gigle a little. 

“I love you, y/n” he said looking at you fondly.

“I love you, lando. Everything’s gonna be alright” you said, assuring him and gave a peck on his lips. “Go have a shower and dress cute im gonna take you out on a date before your birthday” you said more lighful to cheer him up and his face lit up.

“Really?” you noddedat him and send him to shower agin funny. Before going with him so yhou both looked facy, you needed to say something to the world. You couldnt stay crossed arms and do nothing about it. 

── .✦

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maxfewtrell: I CHOKED

norrisfan: omg thank u queen for this

user45: ur as dumb as he is. you cant defend him. he sucks and thats it darling. don lie to yourself.

── .✦

You turned off your phone once again. You were already so fed up with it all. Let them talk. You were sure they would choke with their own shit eventually. 

but  continued with the day. Lando was still a little off but he was looking better so maybe he is actually feeling better. You took out to dinner at a restaurant he always dreamed of going to. He was so happy to be there. The food was delicious. It was near the beach though it is colder here so we looked at it through the glass window. You gossip and talk about anything and everything as if everything was alright. And it was a fact it was. Because this is real life. Not social media. A few people stopped you while eating to ask for pictures and Lando said yes every time you even became a photoshoot photographer. Nice people telling him nice things was what he needed right now. Plus, you would never be pissed off by his fans. You were actually grateful for them. Of course, some can be disrespectful but you knew the real one was it. You really embraced Lando's life even though it’s nothing like the life you’d dreamed of to have one day. But he is the boy of your dreams so why would it be a problem. 

November, 13th

When the clock hit midnight, the restaurant made a cake for him so we all sang him happy birthday. You chose his favorite type of cake. He giggled all nervous and shy. His cheeks red while his eyes showed a little sparkle while watching the candles. He blew them. You recorded the whole thing and took so many pictures. He thanked the staff and staff of the restaurant and they let you enjoy the cake in comfort. Your heart was full to see him a little back again. 

After The restaurant kicked you out because they needed to close, you decided to do a road trip through the mountains of monaco. You always enjoy a good ride with good music and good company. And you also had sex in the car. You kind of guessed he needed to take his frustrations out somehow because you had the rough sex you really enjoyed. He joked it was his best birthday present making you laugh. He was joking again. 

“Thank you” he said while gently rubbing your naked chest. You were seated on him. You smiled and leaned for a soft kiss on his lips. You really loved him. And all you wanted for him was happiness and well being. And you would do anything to make sure he is okay. 

You came back home and had another round of sex. Enjoying yourselves in intimacy. Lando finally fell asleep after a terrible few days, in the calm of your body. His face on your bare chest. You clothed him and fell asleep relieved.

── .✦

yourusername made a post

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yourusername: What can I say about you? There's no words that can describe your greatness. Or my feelings for you. I'm so grateful you were born on November 13th. 25 years ago my best friend and the love of my life was brought to this world. And sometimes what unfair is that, right? A world that is so cruel to you. A world that doesn't deserve your greatness and kindness nor your attention. You are the greatest son, brother, uncle, friend and lover. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't actually know you. We are all so lucky that you choose us to spend your time on this world with. Thank you for being who you care. For caring about the people you love and making sure we are alright and happy. Thank you for being the light that you are for so many lives. Thank you for being vulnerable. I admire you so much, lan. You are the strongest and bravest human I know. so honest and open. Anyone who says otherwise, actually, doesn't know you. I know this is not the best birthday of your life, but I promise you I'll try to make it better. Thank you for being who you are to me. I promise I see you and I care. You're the love of my life. And I'm so lucky you love me over any other human out there. So happy birthday to the prettiest and most genuine, real, fun, kind, warm person I have the chance to call mine everyday. Hope you have the best day you can have right now. That’s the least you deserve. I love you forever bestie. Don’t ever change.

tagged: landonorris

comments on this post have been disabled.

── .✦

── .✦

So you had a master plan for Lando's birthday. You went to the Hilton hotel for some coffee with Max and Lando of course. We lied and said pietra couldn't make it because she had a meeting and Lando believed. Truth was, you have contacted all of his friends and arregened flights so everyone could make it to Monaco on time. Pietra was the one in your house. You left her a spare key yesterday evening after coffee with alex. You gave her the directions and the idea of what you wanted while you and Max distracted Lando until 7pm, she decorated the house and received all of his friends. Lando had no clue of what was going on but he was so happy it was the second cake you brought to him. You recorded the moment and seeing him smile made your heart melt. 

── .✦

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landonorris: I love you greatest girlfriend there to exist. Thank u for everything and specially for making this day so much better. Ur an Angel ❤️‍🩹

⤷ yourusername: I love u more Angel ❤️‍🩹 the least you deserve is to be loved and happy.

User33: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Landostan: THANK U FOR EXISTING AND TAKING SUCH CARE OF HIM UR A QUEEN I LOVE U WE LOVE U

carlossainz55: ur the best 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername: te extraño hermano we need to double date with Rebecca again asap!

── .✦

When 7pm came around we all “decided” to go to your house and eat pizza for dinner. Lando even said to me that they could do a stream and have fun for a bit. You agreed and all knowing that wasn't gonna happen. The ride home was so much fun. You spent the 20 minute ride screaming a one direction song from the top of your lungs. You sang Lando ‘through the dark’ And he sang ‘You and i’.it was lovely, Max almost threw up when you kissed. Luckily he was driving so he hadn't watched much of your pda. 

You got out of the car trying to play it cool though you were so nervous. You saw Max texting Pietra that you were close.the lights were off. And silent. Your nervousness took over you when you tried to open the door but let the keys fall nervously. Thankfully Max and Lando were discussing which type of pizza they would order. Finally you opened the door, lando behind you and so you turned on the lights.

Everyone jumped from everywhere saying happy birthday in unison. Yoursmile was so big but when you saw lando his smile was even bigger.

“Surprise!” you said and lando was still processing it. But when his friend started hugging him he started crying out of joy. He thought his friends weren't coming this year because of their busy schedule.but that was a lie you made them tell so lando wouldn suspect anything. Fortunately, they all kept the secret safe. Lando was so happy. 

You all spent the night playing poker, drinking gin and tonics and surrounded by laughter and love. In the moment, around everybody, you felt lucky to be there. Especially to be in landos life. Everyone was so sweet and good just like him. He deserves the world.

Everyone went home around 2 am. You were exhausted and tipsy at the end of the night. So you put your pajamas on and sled straight on the bed. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for everything. It was a great birthday. Thank u for always taking care of me always.you make me the happiest” he said under a whisper looking at you. He looked so gorgeous with that little smile and tired eyes. You stroked his cheek gently, smiling. 

“You deserve to be happy darling. You are unstoppable. Better days at work will come,I know.but im grateful that you have so much love surrounding you. I love you” he smiled widely listening to you and leaned to kiss you with so much feelings and passion. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and also the greatest decision he has ever made when he asked you out.

── .✦

f1gossipofficial made a post

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f1gossipofficial: here it is @/yourusername at the McLaren garage ready for fp1 cheering for his 4 year boyfriend @/landonorris! Lando was asked about the whole drama around the Brazil gp and his birthday and her statement and he said ‘I’m lucky to have her. I would set the world on fire for her. So yeah. We are the same that is why we work so well. It was a great birthday though. She brought my whole group of friend to Monaco for a poker night so yeah’ also he said that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve collapsed on his overthinking but thankfully she was there. We love a power couple on the grid!! What do we think about all of this? #LasVegasGP2024

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User1873: they are both the same shit tbh

User23: I LOVE THEM GREATEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

User29873: I don’t like lando but she cute supporting him like that. I saw she gave a kiss to him before getting into the car. They seem in love!

⤷ Usrr988: I KNOW TIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY I CAUGHT THAT KISS IN THE OFFICIAL TRANSMISSION

Yourbff: she is the greatest person you would know!! Let’s go lan!!!

User564: Max will win the dwc and NOTHING would change that or move me so

User90: omg she is so pretty

y/nstan: how lucky lando is to have her. She is always the sweetest to all of his fans. And also funny. Such a queen!

User897: where are the pictures of them arriving together????????! I NEED THEM

⤷ user45: so iconic need to marry asap

── .✦

It was the day. The day you were back to media duties. Back to being a target for social media. Back supporting your boyfriend no matter what. You even went on media day to be there for him if he needed it. You chatted with everyone around to entertain yourself while he was doing interviews. 

Oscar helped a lot and the whole McLaren team to make Lando feel safe and actually enjoy the weekend. You Were grateful for it. At least they decided not to be dicks in front of his face. 

Fp1 was about to start and you were proudly there in the garage to cheer on him. You were also anxious because you felt things almost like him and this competition is rather never racking. You kissed him gently but shortly. A good luck kiss before getting into the car. He smiled widely. 

“Go be the best you can be. You’re great” you told him sweetly.

“I'll try my best to impress you,” he replied, letting go of your hand. 

“You already do everyday babe” you said smiling making him grin before walking into the car to start the first session of the weekend. 

You watched from there how fp1 unfolded hoping this would be a great weekend.

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[dinsbeskar]

Haunted (Sauron/F!Reader)

...by the kiss you should never have given me

Lots of mini-chapters add up to an omnibus of angst, as we follow Sauron through the centuries and discover exactly what happened before his coronation.

Sequel to To Have and To Hold // Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Judas by Lady Gaga, Angels by Within Temptation, Heaven's A Lie by Lacuna Coil, NFWMB by Hozier

Warnings: 18+! Angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, manipulation, toxic relationship (more overt towards the end), obsessive!Sauron, soft!Sauron (yes the two can coincide), knifeplay (just a tiny bit), blood magic, Sauron is a bit of a dick towards the end, sorry, accidental prey/predator kink, knifeplay (again, tiny bit), grinding, slightly dubious consent (you do want it, but I'll tag anyway), oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, more blood.

A/N: little bit of jumping around in this one, sorry, we start just after the wedding, then we jump to the fall of Gondolin, a little magic ritual in the middle, then the fallout from the sinking of Beleriand (why do you keep getting caught up in this??), then we close out the First Age with a little argument before someone's coronation! Little slices of their romance in quick succession! I went a little experimental in the form of this one, with a bunch of flashbacks informing the main plot at the end. I hope it works 🤞

Special thanks to @olchr-1 for the idea for our revenge on Morgoth!!

Translation note: Amartherui translates in Sindarin to "lonely fate" [Fate (amarth) Alone (erui)]

Word Count: 6k!

Fingers entwined with his, head on his chest, you were enthralled by him, by every pretty word and sweet gesture. Every time he came to visit, you would spend days on end in your secluded glade, to make up for his inexplicably long periods of absence. Sometimes he would come to you with dizzying tales of his latest triumphs, preening under your undivided attention. But lately he had taken to returning under black clouds, tetchy where he was usually playful, and rough where gentleness once reigned.

You had pulled him close to your breast and sank down into the petaled carpet of the forest floor, stroking his hair and listening as he raged on about the war in the north. You had kin fighting the armies of Morgoth, and knew his sorrows all too well, but something behind his eyes told you it was more than he was letting on.

You weave strands of his hair into elaborate braids in your lap, before undoing them and creating something greater in their stead. He eventually quiets under your idle fiddling, eyes drifting shut with a contented smile gracing his face, like a cat napping in the afternoon sun. You love him like this; no cares, no worries of war. You can soothe him like no one else, a great source of pride whenever he mentions it.

You gaze down at his unearthly smooth features and trace each contour with your eyes; your fingers slow in their busy work, moving gently across his scalp, lazily twisting his hair around your finger, making a ring to match the one he'd gifted you, ornate and bejeweled, glittering with an impossible inner light, to replace the woven band of purple iris that he'd improvised on the night of your wedding.

"You're staring, love." He smiles, snapping open his eyes and fixing you with an affectionate expression that makes your heart melt.

"Is a wife not allowed to stare at her husband? Are there no privileges to marriage at all?" Your voice is soft but your tone is mischievous, and he smirks.

"I can think of a few, ah, privileges, dearest, in fact we have exercised a few already today." He raises his eyebrows, before pulling you down to meet his lips. "But if you need reminding, you need only ask."

-

You had agreed to meet in the same secluded glade at the next new moon, but he never showed. The hours you wasted awaiting his return were at first exciting, full of electric anticipation that only love's first bloom can give. As the moon slowly passed overhead, and twinkling stars gave way to blazing sun, you shed many a tear at your folly. Perhaps he had been some mirage, an illusion to tempt you? Or perhaps the depth of his feeling did not match yours, a fleeting thought you had to bury deep in case it irrevocably shattered your heart.

You frequent the glade every so often, convincing yourself that it was a perfectly fine place to pass your time, and that you were not reminded of his warm hands or even warmer smile, every time you visit. Deceiving yourself that it meant much less to you than it did, that if he returned now after so much time with no word or warning, you would not jump into his open arms without a second thought.

Your heartache is apparent to your friends and kin, who assume you're suffering the grief they all feel, having lost so many of their kind to Morgoth's rampage in the north. How little they knew; how little you knew.

It is only when one good friend mentions the siege at Angband, that you are struck with the terrible notion that the man you cursed for abandoning you, might not have done it willingly after all. That perhaps, Valar forbid, he had perished in the siege. He had mentioned fighting in the war after all, but you had not connected that with his absence. After all, he had promised to return to you, on the morning after you had met, having shared a blissful slumber in each other's arms. He held your hands to his lips and swore he would see you again, and now it makes sense. Now you have a real reason to grieve, you realise, and the anger roiling within you turns cold, an icy pit in your stomach as tears fall freely and your heart wrenches and cracks. You were to only have one night with him, and you might never even discover his true fate.

You reason with yourself that surely you would feel if the other half of you had flown this mortal plain. But the alternative was much crueler, and to believe him dead was somehow a less hopeless fate.

Centuries later when you look back, you curse yourself for not seeing who he was, and what he'd done, but how could you? He'd taken you as his own and that was such a strong spell to break, Eru himself would have had to step in.

-

To see your city fall at the hands of your husband’s master, you had no words, only wet hot tears as you watch your people die.

"Love, we have to go, come now," he holds you firmly by the arms, shaking you a little to clear your mind of the dust and debris and blood on the streets of Gondolin.

"I can't, I can't leave them, I have to find-"

"No, we're evacuating, you're not staying a minute longer. I should not have let you linger here when He appeared on the horizon, we should have-"

You tug your arm from his vice-like grip. "Should have what? Should have left my people to wrack and ruin? We have to..." Your mind is so murky, filled with thoughts of leaving, running as far as you can with him, despite your overwhelming urge to stay and help where you can.

"We have to leave. You know there is nothing we can do for them, He will leave none alive, and I won't have you-" he can't say it, he can't even entertain the notion of you coming to harm; his fingers tighten their grip, almost painful in their desperation.

He should have foreseen this, he should have gotten you to safety when he first had an inkling that his master finally knew where the Hidden City was.

"We have to go back, I need to go back, I can't leave-"

After a thousand years, his magic had kept your tiny wedding band of iris in full bloom, untouched by the passage of time, kept safe in an ornate gilded chest, made by his own fair hands. And it was sitting in your apartments on the other side of the city, where your kin doubtless waited for you to leave with them. The sentiment in your heart held you steadfast against his shaking and pleading.

"Love, we can't stay here-" he is interrupted by explosions overhead, as the enemy host draw closer.

"You don't understand-"

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter, you're the only thing that matters. We have to go!" He never raises his voice to you, so you're a little dumbstruck when he growls at you.

"But we have to save them!" You stop in your tracks, feet rooted to the ground, indignant at the idea of abandoning your friends and neighbours to their doom.

"Amarië," his voice is suddenly so soft, it disquiets you, brings you back to the present. "Love, they're gone. There is no saving to be done."

Sauron is a stranger to remorse, to sorrow, but at the effect of his words, a pang of guilt sweeps through him when he tells you that in all the world, he is all you have now. He tries to ignore the warm thrill he feels in the pit of his stomach, that this great cataclysm has brought about the fate he always wanted for the two of you: just you and he, no one else to rob him of your attention.

You wanted to feel deeply all the grief and pain that one would expect at being told their life was over.

Instead you just felt numb, haunted by the consequences of his actions.

-

"I curse him." Your husband's eyes grow wide at your words, grasping your hands as if to quiet you, but you press on.

"I curse Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir, to roam this earth alone. To never know peace, to never know that which he so jealously craves."

You feel you're taking Morgoth's curse rather well, all things considered. Sauron had to beg you not to storm Angband yourself after he had told you of his master's new name for you, cursing you to a forsaken existence, sundering you from your husband in all but spirit.

You had fought your way back to him countless times, and he to you; you had both vowed to continue to do so, but the rage and grief had not lessened with time, stoked to a towering inferno of wrath that threatened to break you any time you were reminded of it.

And after the fall of Gondolin, your rage at the Enemy was insatiable.

So you had your revenge.

"Enemy. Tyrant. Now I name you again."

In the dead of night, flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows over your face, Sauron cannot help but admire you, crave you, as you corrupt his master's fate.

You slice open your hand, squeezing your palm over the parchment before you, watching as crimson splashes through the stark black lettering.

Amartherui.

"Help me." You look him in the eye, your simple plea making his chest ache; he has never said no to you, his sweet wife, but this is the first time he has been tempted.

"Amarië..." his soft sigh almost convinces you to abandon your plan, but the fury bubbling in your veins is too great.

"Beloved, will you help me or not? Your power would bring this curse to fruition, but if you will have no part in it, you should leave." You stand taller, drawing yourself up to match his gaze, impossible as that may seem.

"I have never asked you for anything. Please do this for me."

The crushing weight of the love in his hole of a heart moves his hand before he can stop himself. With gnawing doubt in his stomach, he wordlessly takes the knife from you, mixing his pitch black blood with your own on the page.

You smile, a weight lifting from your shoulders instantly, and you pull him down to kiss him hard, leaving a red streak on his neck.

"I name you, Morgoth, as my people have long titled you, Amartherui." His new name falls off your tongue like a dream, and you cannot help but smile, your wicked deed complete, as you set the parchment alight, the flames glowing a sickly grey-green as the candles flicker and the room darkens, long shadows growing where the light had tentatively reigned.

"Forever and a day, a lonely fate will be yours. You shall not know the word of a friend, the loyalty of a follower, or the touch of a lover. I curse you to wander the Seen and Unseen world alone, craving the connection you sought to sunder here."

In the back of your mind, there is some semblance of guilt. There is nothing good in the act you just performed, nothing virtuous or pure in your revenge; it's cold and calculated, vicious and spiteful.

Transcending the bounds of time and space, you can feel your curse has taken effect, something shifting in the air between you and your husband.

Sauron has never loved you more, and he shows you many times that night the depth of his feelings.

-

You watch as more refugees stagger into your haven with naught more than the clothes on their backs, waiting to help and heal and offer your comfort where you can. The war has left such a dreadful path of destruction in its wake; thousands of your kin are displaced as the host of the Valar battle their way to Angband, and your people had chosen where the river Sirion meets the sea as their secret haven.

It has been decades since the armies of Valinor first arrived on the shores of Middle Earth, and the end was drawing near, according to your husband, who was waiting with you in the safety of the havens and watching closely.

"I'll see you when I'm finished here," you whisper as you reach up to plant a kiss on your husband's lips. "It'll probably be late, don't wait up for me."

He gives you an affectionate smile; how could he not wait for you? Even if he did partake in sleep, he would not be able to rest without you at his side.

"I'll be up, return to me soon." He is reluctant to let you go, but your skills are in such dire need while the city is inundated with the sick and injured.

Before the War, it was uncommon for Elves to suffer such fates, being hardy in soul and body, but Morgoth's darkness had infiltrated much of the land and infected so many of your kin. Soldiers, innocent bystanders, there were hardly any who were unaffected, and fighting the darkness was a constant effort on your part, and the team of healers you had trained in the magics of your people.

"My lady, they are calling for you." The herald's voice shakes you from Sauron's gaze, and he huffs impatiently.

"I must go." You reluctantly begin to pull away, but he draws you back, pulling you close and wrapping you up in an embrace you could cling to for an age.

"I love you," he murmurs in your ear. "When this is all over, we shall establish the greatest kingdom this land has ever seen."

"If there is a land left." You try to remain hopeful but the news of the siege at Angband is never good, never hopeful, and you fear your home will never be free of Morgoth's influence.

"I am your home," your husband, your Mairon, reminds you, tracing your cheek softly, and you cannot help but return his radiant smile.

"I know, love, as I am yours." You press a soft kiss to his knuckles, taking the strength he offers, before departing to disperse your light where you can.

The darkness infects everything it touches, and it takes all of your energy and more to renew your broken and weary kin, who have travelled so far and fought so hard to reach the havens. Healing words and ancient spells woven into soft songs, settling over the city in a melodic shield, rejuvenating the minds and bodies of your people. You work late into the night, spreading the light where you can, easing the pitch black horror in the hearts of those who had seen the worst of Morgoth's endeavours.

The night is all-encompassing when you finally crawl into bed, nestling into Mairon's firm warmth, trying not to disturb him but feeling sweet relief when his hands trace your sides in greeting.

"I was going to come look for you," his deep voice rumbles in your chest as he presses himself against you.

"No need," you try to smile, but your voice cracks as his tenderness breaks your defences, and all the heartache of the day pours out of you like blood from a wound.

His heart wrenches. He has no business feeling such emotions as remorse, but once again you have him feeling in ways that he dislikes intensely.

"I'm sorry, my love." And he is. He is actually sorry for causing you pain, the rest of Middle Earth be damned.

You sigh and take his hand, holding it over your heart.

"I know, love." You ponder your next question, whether it is a good idea to ask, but you ask anyway.

"You cannot assist in the efforts against Him? I'm sure the Valar would be grateful for your help, might even look favourably upon you-"

He interrupts you with a sigh and a kiss to your neck.

"The Valar will never look upon me favourably, beloved. I could present them Melkor in chains and they would only bind me to him."

Of course, he has thought about begging clemency, thought about fleeing with you to the edges of the world, even thought of taking you back to his master. But in the end, it was more prudent to keep you safe, and to watch and wait for the triumphant side to reveal themselves. Better to beg forgiveness from the victor than choose the wrong side.

-

"Tell me I'm wrong." You dare him to speak against you, your voice shaking in anger as your fists clench.

"My love, I-"

"No, I don't want falsehoods, I don't want games or lies or deceit, just tell me. Did you go to Eönwë as you promised?"

"I did. And I found their response wanting." In truth he had tried to make amends, tried to do penance for the ages he'd spent in Morgoth's service, but when it came to approaching Manwë for his pardon, his fear overtook him and he fled back to Angband, but he couldn't tell you that, couldn't tell you he'd been weak, pitiful, his courage failing him at the final steps to absolution.

And he definitely couldn't tell you that in order for his pardon to be granted, he would have to give you up, to avoid blackening your soul any further.

He'd rather suffer your eternal wrath than be sundered from you for even a moment.

"So you traded forgiveness for more lies." You clench your jaw, your head beginning to pound, the subtle throb becoming a stabbing pain in your temple.

"I did it for you."

"How? How is this for me?" You mock him, incensed now that he would deflect his deceit onto you.

He stands to comfort you but you rip your hands from his grasp before he can claim you.

"I do not know what to say. I thought I knew you, I thought you would do the right thing." You shake your head and laugh, your scorn stinging him as if it were a poisoned blade.

"Love, please-"

"No! No more lies. I've had it with trickery and deception, I want out." You whirl around to face him. "Shadow of Morgoth, they call you. You gather his armies to you once more, you refired his crown! So is that what you want? Do you want to be his second coming?"

In all honesty, no. His master's plans were beneath him; Morgoth wanted to break the world, Sauron wanted to reshape it, to balance and perfect it, by any means necessary.

"Please, listen to me, I need you by my side, now more than ever." He clutches your hands, heart pounding, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to fall for his pretty words once more.

"You didn't answer me." Tears begin to prick your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall in front of him, stepping back to take a deep breath, to steady your nerves to face the man you thought you loved.

"I don't need to. Love, you will join me." His desperation becomes honeyed, dripping with the devotion you so crave from him.

"Don't. Don't do that." You whisper, as he stalks toward you slowly, his deception burning a hole in your heart that you're sure will never be filled.

"Don't you want to be with me? For all eternity, that is what we always said." He circles you, hands on your shoulders, in your hair, overwhelming you with his lover's touch, just a mite too rough.

"Not if this is your plan. I didn't marry Morgoth, I married Mairon." Sauron, your mind reminds you, and for a second you feel a wave of nausea overwhelm you.

His face twists and he pulls away.

"That is not my name." He growls, an ugly grimace taking over his lovely features.

"I've told you before, don't look inside my head!" You retort, his presence in your mind suddenly overwhelmingly obvious.

You throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut, refusing him access to that which would be so freely given if he deserved it.

The tic in his jaw is back with a vengeance and his eyes are ablaze with a fury the like of which you have never seen.

"Who do you think you are?" He hisses, venom in every word; you don't recognise him, cold terror in your heart at the sudden switch, as if someone had doused the candle burning for you in his heart with oil, engulfing him with wildfire.

"I chose you, of all your people, as my wife; I could have had anyone, but I chose you. Aulë’s greatest smith, Melkor's most trusted lieutenant, lord of all the dark things that creep and crawl in this world. And who are you? My beloved wife." His tone is like poison in your veins, burning and spitting fire in your heart.

Who are you? He's right; who the hell do you think you are?

"I know exactly who I am. I'm the woman who leaves you."

You shall not be forsaken this time, not that doing the forsaking feels any sweeter. It wrenches every fibre of your being, your heart pounding in your chest, but you make it to the door of his chambers, hand on the doorknob, before he breaks from his stunned daze, crosses the room and clasps his hand over yours on the cool metal.

"And where will you go? Your people are scattered and displaced, and who would take you in if they knew?" His sweetly honeyed words still bite at your heart, settling in the pit of your stomach.

"I cannot stay here, not now that I know exactly what you are." You look up at him, holding his gaze, somehow fighting the urge to scratch and claw and bite your way free like a feral animal, suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that you should run as hard and fast as you can.

His eyes betray nothing, his lips curving into a condescending smirk, as he runs a finger down your cheek, gathering the tears you'd fought not to shed. He examines them as if he'd never seen their like, as if they were precious stones from the depths of the earth, mined just for him; he licks his fingers clean, turning his attention back to you, trembling under him as he cages you against the door.

"Please... please let me go." The look in his eye says begging will be useless, but you try anyway.

"You are my Queen. You're free to do as you please." He replies, voice smooth, with a pretty smirk and that predatory glint in his eye that would usually thrill you so, that still sends hot arousal pooling between your thighs, mixed with icy cold terror.

"It would please me to leave," you try to appeal to him, softening your voice, lowering your gaze.

"I'm sure it would..." he utters breathlessly as he takes you in, leaning over you, watching the artery in your throat jump in time to his own racing heartbeat.

"Mairon... please..." His lips are on yours before you can finish your plea, his hands tangled in your hair.

He pushes his thigh between your legs, letting you grind yourself against him instinctively, and he groans, deep and low in his chest.

"Even now, your body betrays you, my love."

You sigh against him, fingers raking his hair roughly, letting him caress your neck, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he tries to expose you to his gaze. His clever fingers usually make light work of the laces of your corset, but his impatience defeats him, and he pulls a dagger from the lining of his robes, slicing cleanly through the fabric.

"That was my favourite," you admonish him, still angry with him; even as he takes you apart with his fingers and his tongue, you can't forget his plans, and you certainly can't ignore his gift to you, sitting by the window in all their glory.

Twin crowns, wrought in black iron, twisted and wicked, emanating a dark power that made you nauseous; ready for the heads of Middle Earth's new King and Queen. When you'd seen them, your blood ran cold, as you realised that once again, you'd been victim to Sauron’s deception.

"You will have a thousand more, dearest wife, whatever your heart desires," he promises breathlessly as he shucks off your dress, sliding it down your body, worshipping you with the lightest touch, soft kisses peppering your skin as he disrobes you. He falls to his knees, his head in line with your mound. He looks up at you, locking his gaze with yours, and delves into your folds with his tongue, seeking your pleasure.

You gasp, throwing your head back, as he spreads your legs to access your entrance, splitting you open with two fingers, still drawing every moan and whimper from your throat as he circles your clit, licking long strokes, tiny laps at your skin, letting you ride his face in your lustful haze. You grip his hair more roughly than you normally would, your wrath seeping into your lust, until you can't detect the distinction between the two.

He takes one of your legs and places it on his shoulder, letting you rest against him, both of you totally at the other's mercy. Such trust, such devotion, would you throw that away? Would you truly abandon him?

He worships at your altar, an acolyte to your pleasure, drawing unearthly sounds from deep within you, willing you to just stay and be his.

Your mind is racing as tendrils of his power cling to your lips, fighting for entrance to quiet your thoughts, and replace them with his sweet music. Wouldn't it just be easier? To let the darkness in?

You might as well, you muse in the back of your head, thoughts displaced by pleasure as the darkness feasts upon you.

He's solely focused on you; there is nowhere he would rather be in all of Arda. The unblemished shores of Valinor, the white trees that used to light the world, he can finally understand why his master was so hellbent on their destruction. For there is no beauty that should merit a comparison to you, and he would raze these lands to the ground to prove it.

You're drawing close, he realises, and briefly wonders whether to allow you your release on his lips.

You feel him pull away and moan, a tiny pitiful sound that makes him chuckle; of course you need him, of course you can't be without him, even in anger. Victory is nigh, and he pulls himself out of his robes to claim you once again.

He pushes you back, your name on the tip of his tongue, as he takes you in, breathes your air.

"You're mine," he growls, nuzzling your neck to better scent you. "Say it, say you'll always be mine."

"I will," you murmur softly, tears pricking your eyes as you hold him close.

"If you were to leave me," he moans against your heated skin, stroking his cock against your thigh, "there would be no rest for any bird, beast, or being in this land, no sleep, no sustenance, these lands would burn until you were returned to me."

He claims you in one thrust, filling you so completely, so sweetly, that you see stars, your breath stolen from your lungs as if it were the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him.

Your heart wrenches, pulling towards his, despite your entire being screaming at you.

You kiss him harder, your mind quietened as he bites your lip, droplets of blood wetting his tongue, quickening his insatiable need to be inside you in every way that is possible; mind, body, soul, all inextricably entwined.

The tears in your eyes threaten to fall, but you blink them back as he rocks into you, the chorus of your lovemaking drowning out all other notions. He plays you so well, a master in the art of drawing sweet melody from your lips; the harmony you both create together is unmatched to his ears, a Maia who helped sing the world into being.

A chorus of "mine" and "please" fill the air, and you're unsure whose voice is the louder, who is more desperate in their claiming of the other.

You feel him stiffen against you, his melody reaching a crescendo before yours, as he fills you with his pleasure, low groans in your ear bringing you to your peak as well. He wrings every last moan out of you, drawing out the coda of your song until there are no more notes to be played, no more pleasure to be taken.

Sweat-slicked and exhausted, you hold each other close, entwined so perfectly. You let him carry you to his bed, laying you down reverently, climbing in beside you and nestling you close, arms wrapping you tightly, refusing to let you move from his grasp.

You'd usually find such comfort in his embrace, but tonight there is an itch under your skin that his touch only amplifies, making you fight not to squirm beside him.

You cannot sleep for fear of letting him inside your head again, so when a knock at the door comes, you welcome it.

He sighs, long and loud in your ear, as evidence of his displeasure.

"I'll be back, love, there are matters I must attend to."

"Of course," you smile, fighting to make it meet your eyes.

He regards you carefully, brow furrowed.

"Do not fear, my love," he says softly as he leans down to kiss you once more. "I won't be long."

As he departs, he gives you one final look of longing, which you hasten to return with all the eagerness you can muster.

The door clicks shut, your expression falls, and you immediately disentangle yourself from the sheets,

Finding obscene amounts of your clothing and jewellery, and books beyond measure in his room was no surprise. He must have been preparing for this for years, if not longer.

Now that Morgoth was gone, the next phase of his plan could move forward, and that involved you, his Queen, taking up her rightful residence.

You dress as quickly as you're able, taking only what you can carry, and go to leave. But you notice a small ornate chest you thought you'd lost when Gondolin fell, sitting on the dresser by his bed as if it had always belonged there.

You feel as if you've been stabbed, a gut-wrenching heartache overwhelming you as you can do nothing but stand and stare.

He went back for it. He kept it all this time.

Your feet move of their own accord, and before you can blink, you've opened the chest, staring at the impossible artefact of your love for each other.

Unfurled purple petals, revealing a stark white centre, the woven band appearing as fresh as it did on the day he married you.

You hold it up, comparing it to the ring you currently wear. He really had somehow captured its likeness in a jewel, deep purple revealing a bright light in its centre, framed by ornate silver details.

You cannot bring yourself to slip it on, after all that has happened, his lies and broken promises, but you are loath to leave it.

Movement outside his chambers sends a shiver of panic through you, and you quickly move to hide behind the door. The subsequent banging has you quaking but you stand your ground, waiting for whomever it is to leave.

The door abruptly swings open, and you hear two gravelly voices discussing... you?

"Mistress?" The first call is softer, but their annoyance quickly becomes apparent as the other chimes in.

"Where is she then? They said to fetch her, but I'm not traipsing all over to find some she-Elf-"

"He won't even notice, Adar says he's too caught up in all his planning and his speeches, who cares about one missing Elf?"

"He wants them at least, over there. He'll have your head if we forget-"

"Why my head? You're the one he told-"

"Shut it and take 'em, careful now, there's magic in it still..."

Their voices fade as they shuffle back the way they came. As the door slams shut again, you realise that your husband already has an army of orcs at his disposal, and you reconsider what you're about to do, but only briefly.

Escaping the fortress is more of a task than you thought, requiring all the skills of subterfuge and swordplay that your husband has ever taught you; which is no small feat, considering the centuries you've had to learn.

Quietly slipping through the fortress mostly unnoticed, leaving the odd corpse in your wake as your husband's servants cross your path, unfortunately for them.

Thankfully the halls are mostly deserted, and you hear a clamour coming from deeper within, but you try to pay it no mind, focusing on your exit and nothing more.

It is only when you finally see daylight, pushing open the great black doors to the fortress, that you can breathe a sigh of relief. If you can just get a headstart, perhaps you'll be able to outrun him.

-

It is in the middle of his speech, appealing to his army for their continued support, that Sauron notices you are absent.

He'd sent for you when his moment of victory seemed nigh at hand, and had assumed you were readying yourself for your ascent, but now that he had persuaded Adar and his children to his cause, the sight of your face was all he wanted to see.

As he knelt before Adar, awaiting his rightful crown, he searched for you in his mind's eye. He did not expect to find you outside the black gates, breathing a sigh of relief in the watery sunlight.

A surge of rage overtook him as he clenched his jaw, settling on his knees. The mere thought of your abandonment had always made his heart twist and shatter, and at that moment, he had no heart. Just a void where it used to be.

Distracted by your torment, he barely noticed the first blow, as Adar struck him again and again with the crown that was meant to define your future together.

As he lay in a pool of thick black blood, his last thought was of you; how could you betray him? And thank the Valar you did.

-

A great blast of freezing cold air knocks you off your feet, and for a second you thought you heard his voice on the wind. It's all you can do to just lie there, covered in frost and shaking, trying to assess if you're at least physically intact, your emotional state another matter entirely.

Clutching your head as blood trickles down your face, you shakily get to your feet. It is as if someone has emptied the heavens of all its snow where before there was nothing but arid plains. The air is suddenly glacial, the ground frozen and cracking underfoot.

It is as you contemplate your frozen breath in the air, that you realise you can't feel him. A vacuum in your mind, a void in your heart that you haven't experienced in more than a thousand years, and you can barely recognise that it is his absence that has left such a hole.

You thought you might feel free when you were rid of him, but all you feel is empty, yearning for a presence that has haunted you for millennia.

[oimitocat]

IN A MOMENT U & I | OS

lee minho x m!reader

super hero au! + mind control + death themes + blood + crying + hurt/comfort + angst + fluff [ s/n = superhero name]

a/n; this sure did take me a while…. lots of minho love here lol (black widow minho won’t leave my head)

“where are we going? it’s hot, i’m sweaty and my feet hurt,” he whines.

his smile is wide- wait, who’s smiling at him?

“you can’t resist this, lee know. everything went my way when you just had to be stubborn and prove yourself!” someone cackles, “my mission will be completed once you get rid of s/n.”

minho growls, trying to get out of the restraints. that’s right… he had separated from the group and went ahead and-

there’s a snap. he doesn’t know if it came from inside his head or outside. suddenly, all he hears is static.

“what’s so cool about this place? it’s too quiet…”

“don’t you like peace and quiet?” he snickers. “look around, take in the place.”

with a small pout, he looks around. it’s eerily quiet, yes he does like peace and quiet but something’s off about this. it’s an unsettling peace. the waves roar as they crash into the sand. he looks away when an unsettling feeling sinks to the bottom of his stomach. he turns around to face-

“minho?” there’s disdain in your voice.

good.

“minho! WAIT!”

there’s a loud resounding crack when he slams down his batons into your arm. you don’t want to hurt him, this isn’t lee know. this isn’t your minho. you won’t hurt him. you could never bring yourself to do so.

“kind of hard to fight someone you’re so in love with, right?” a voice booms over the platform.

you and the rest of the group had located minho and the enemy to be here in a shipyard. it’s not abandoned, chan and felix had to evacuate the workers and any bystanders. jeongin and jisung were busy fending off the stupid robots fighting them off to come for minho. you had managed to sneak past, giving the green by chan.

you didn’t think minho would be-

“min! you’re being mind controlled!”

“he won’t hear you! all he hears are my orders!”

you growl, sliding away from minho before he slams his batons down on your head. he had activated the weapon’s electricity discharge and if you got hit by them you’d be out for a bit. you hop off the floor, groaning when you use your arms to push yourself off the cold, wet floor.

“hey, ji! could you try to figure out where the guy controlling minho is?” you ask into your in ear as you run down the hollow shipping containers.

“huh? he’s being mind controlled?”

minho connects his batons to make a long staff, extending it for facility. you groan, knowing you’re about to get your ass kicked.

“me and jeongin just defeated these shitty robots!” jisung announces, “we’ll try to find the guy, i’ll move to seungmin okay? don’t get your ass beat!”

“kinda hard when you know minho is my weakness-“ you jump minho slides to kick your feet.

you pant, landing a bit farther from him as he spins and gets on his feet swiftly. any other time you’d be enamored at how easily his limbs move during a fight. you’d be captivated by his acrobatic attacks, except you’re the prey this time. his feline like eyes are aimed at you with the intent to kill.

he charges right at you and you refuse to strike back every time he aims a blow at you. minho’s attacks are fast. he has fast combinations and you have no choice but to take out your sheaths to keep up with blocking and redirecting.

your own weapons are shattered when he slams down his staff. he has brute strength, sends you to the ground. with minho you have to be quick- so you grab his staff and slam it down the side, taking him unguarded for a second enough to leave from under him. however, your back is faced towards him and he takes little to no time to slam the hilt of his staff into your lower back. you groan out in agony and fall forward.

“s/n~,” the loud voice booms again, “how does it feel to have your lover kill you?”

you grunt when minho crawls on top of your face. at the sound of disassembly, you realize he had transformed his long staff back to his two batons. you can’t apply any force on your left arm- it’s probably broken. you think fast, pulling out your own baton from it’s strap on your thigh. slamming it’s edge to the floor, you pressed a button and the baton extends to something twice its side. it send you flying to the side, minho falling off of you. with ease, he slide to his feet. you stagger, eyeing him.

“i think your main mistake was flaunting your little relationship in a fight between that last villain you took out a few weeks ago.” the voice is crazy loud, where the hell is jisung? “rumors spread you know.”

you fall to the ground when minho jumps off the floor, using his staff again as grounding to side kick your head. good thing you saw it coming, using your left arm again to block the attack. as his feet touch the floor, his arm is already swinging his staff into your rib.

“ah, people in love make me sick… but seeing you two dance around like that makes me wish i had someone.”

“piece of shit,” you grunt as you hug your side and dash off again.

minho is a fast runner, not faster than chan but for sure faster than you. him jumping off the boxes and tired laying out in the ground wasn’t helping your case. he throws a baton at you from a short distance, it electrocutes you at the touch. with a cry of agony, you fall to the floor.

his soft but heavy footsteps draw close to you.

“i don’t really like walking down the beach, the sand feels weird,” he says as he turns to the other person, hoping they get the gist and take him somewhere else. yet, as he looks at them, he notices that not only can he not see their face, but they’re kneeling before him.

“minho…”

“minho,” you gasp between his blows.

he has one hand holding you down by the neck. his strength there isn’t enough to cut off circulation or even try, but it’s strong enough to keep you pinned in your weakened state. his other hand is holding the baton and bashing it to the side of your face. one of your hands is gripping his hand on your neck and the other trying to hold off his other hand.

“s/n you’re one of the most strongest heroes out there and yet you’re dying in lee know’s hands? how embarrassing for you. one single punch could have him disadvantaged easily.” the voice booms again.

your ears are ringing. with minho’s body sitting on top of you, your breathing is harder. your rib hurts, his pressure isn’t helping. your bleeding from your mouth and your nose.

“will you really die at his hands?” he scoffs, “you could have at least made this more entertaining-“

the voice cuts off.

“WE FOUND HIM! S/N, JUST HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER!”

“about time!” you groan, yet your arm weakens and he slides out his hand to hit you once more.

“it’s about time we move forward in our relationship, don’t you think?” they say with a smile.

you use all your energy to lift up your legs and flatted your feet on the ground. your going to pass pass out if you don’t do something. you can’t die, minho’s grief will eat him alive. you have to hold off as much as you can until jisung and jeongin defeat the villain. you thrust upward, quickly pivoting off the ground once he’s off you for a split second. he falls forwards, hands pushing him up and helping him land on his feet after a cartwheel.

you stare at him through one eye. the other shut closed from the blood that dripped from your temple down.

“KILL HIM!” the voice booms.

minho charges at you again, but before your feet move, he throws takes out something from his pocket and throws it at your feet. you get electrocuted again. in the few seconds that your body is shaking from the electricity, you knocks you down with a kick to the stomach.

“IF THEY GET RID OF ME I NEED TO MAKE SURE S/N IS GONE BEFORE THAT.”

“s/n hold on!” jeongin yells through your in ear.

you can’t really hear him. agony is taking over, your losing consciousness.

“min…ho,” you cough as he gets on top of you again.

“don’t you think, minho?” the man smiles, he thinks it’s a pretty smile.

he can’t even enjoy it though, the waves are roaring louder, he wants to leave. he lowers his hand despite it, eyes shimmering at the sight of the ring. this is a beautiful moment… but what’s wrong?

“MINHO!”

he freezes.

he snaps his head to the side, seeing chan charge straight towards him. what the hell? he feels lightheaded. actually, his head is pounding. he tries to stand up but when he looks down to hoist himself, he sees you.

bloody.

his blood runs cold. his hands tremble and when he sees that he’s holding one of his baton’s- which is dripping with blood- he can’t breathe. did- did he-

“minho-“, chan tries, panting when he reaches you two.

“nonononono,” minho gets out, frantic when he takes in your bloody face and your closed eyes. he grabs your face as he sobs, trying to shake you to get you to open your eyes. “y/n-“

“minho, y/n is-“

“NO SHUT UP!” minho screams, sobbing. he can’t bear to hear it.

he keeps shaking you, begging you to open your eyes.

“hey i need backup here! chan can you come?”

chan hesitates before stepping away.

minho gasps, letting go of you when you don't open your eyes. "no, no, no!" he screams, scrubbing his face with his bloody hands.

what is going to do? this is- "ALL MY FAULT," he sobs.

he's busy crying into your hands when you finally do open your eyes. one of them burns, probably from the blood that had dripped into it. still, you use your energy to put your hands on his hips,

"baby…" you croak out. "i'm not dead-"

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT," he sobs, throwing himself on you to cry into the crook of your neck, "I'M SORRY!"

you groan, screwing your eyes shut. "ack- min- babe- get off- i can't breathe. i gotta broken rib or something-"

minho doesn't stop crying. he quickly scrambles off of you, begging for forgiveness and asking if you're okay.

"hey, hey," you wheeze out, "it's okay. i'm glad they handles it before you really did kill me."

and minho cries harder.

it takes a while for seungmin and felix to come. seungmin uses his powers to facilitate moving you to the ship without putting you in more pain. minho doesn't leave your side even when you're back at the base getting checked and undergoing surgery.

he can't forgive himself for- "being so careless. i should have listened to you when you said something was off about the hideout. i should have waited-"

"hey, shut up," you tease, squeezing his hand. "i was just happy to know you were safe. you being mind controlled was better than finding you dead."

he swallows, looking at your patched up figure. "at least you held me off pretty long…"

"you saying i can't handle you?" you pout.

"if you put it like that…"

"get out."

"no! you're my responsibility-"

"i'm your fiancé."

"exactly." minho eyes you down before smiling. "i really wouldn't have known what to do if you were really dead…"

"probably go even more insane." you tease, which earns you a slap on the arm and you groan.

"SORRY!" he winces.

“give me a kiss and i’ll forgive you,” you say.

he doesn’t even hesitate.

[vinelark]

I've been going through ur fic recs and after binging through "A Meditation On Railroading" and "The Long Way Home", I'm now obsessed with Jason and Tim. Something about hating each other but not really, all the bad blood and hurt and still becoming brothers bc how couldn't they

I wanted to ask if you know any other fics that are about them?

Thanks! :)

i had to make a real effort to keep this (relatively) short or it would just be hundreds of fics long. here is a very incomplete list of old favs and recent reads! i've definitely rec'd some of them already, but i think others are new to my fic rec tag.   you already mentioned a meditation on railroading and the long way home; i’m linking them again here for anyone else who wants them, because they are two of my favs and would kick off this list if you hadn’t already read them.   robin!jason era   Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding one of the most impressive things a story can do, imo, is pull off a really believable kid/teen pov—this does it twice, for both tim and jason, and it’s one of my fav rereads.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by @bonesbuckleup i’ll always be reccing this one; it’s one of my favorite slow-burn hurt/comfort fics, and the tim & jason relationship in this context is very sweet + compelling as they deal with some rough edges unique to this story.

1-800-ROBIN by spqr jason volunteers for a mental health hotline, and this leads to bonding with tim. this has some incredibly tender moments and a great robin!jason pov.   red hood!jason era

cake is a four letter word by @sonosvegliato jason just wants to make a loaf of bread. then tim shows up. i love when a writer nails tim in peak Annoying Mode (❤️).

geolocation by @envysparkler i love a good forced-to-work-together oneshot, and this one gets bonus points for the sheer amount of “actions speak louder than words” going on with every single thing jason does.

Tim in a Bottle by @coyote-nebula (wip) angst and humor galore; tim and jason and their giant pile of unresolved issues all get locked in a walk-in freezer together. need i go on?

the trolley problem by @silk-scarlet-ribbons this is—i say with full appreciation—an absolute pangfest. jason is taken by an enemy, and that enemy has kidnapped a "random civilian" (you guessed it: tim) for leverage to get jason to do what they want. (also check out requiem for the forsaken by the same author, which is the fic that finally got my best friend to start caring about robins with me.)

Short-Term Memory Loss (Leads to Long-Term Sibling) by Vamillepudding a bittersweet + hopeful story in which red hood!jason gets temporarily whammed back to robin!jason, and bonds with tim.

Say Uncle by @megaerakles an incredibly fun twist on tim’s fake uncle with layers upon layers of identity shenanigans.

of crime lords and literature by @adelfie a wonderfully angsty, plotty fic in which tim ends up in danger as himself, and—after a very rocky start—jason is somehow the one who rescues him.

unequipped by Valkirin there’s a lot of jason saving tim on this list, and this story is a delightful reversal of that trope. red hood’s in trouble, and tim shows up to bail him out.

For All The Just Alike Birds by @sunflowersandink tim breaks his arm, and jason makes it his problem. featuring some excellent begrudgingly worried jason pov!

alternate universe

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (wip) i adore this jason-joins-the-family late AU; the central robin!tim & sort-of-civilian!jason dynamic is so compelling. marked as a wip, but currently leaves off in a very satisfying place!

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

can you make angst artkita hcs pls i NEED to see them suffer

angst artkita headcanons!

whoa! come down there anon…make angst artkita headcanons?

but of course…

tw for self harm and eating disorders

artyom definitely makes nikita cry on purpose. theres nothing more that he wants in the world then to see that boy cry and sob because of him.

artyom ignores nikita a lot. its rare that he answers his calls or messages and even when hes over hed probably ignore him. hed be sitting off to the side like a puppy waiting for a treat itll never get.

artyom has somehow gotten nikita to take nudes of himself for him. its more of just a tactic and thing to hold over him when he does something wrong - i also think artyom talks shit about nikita to his friends and shows off his nudes for shits and giggles.

if nikita ever found out he would have a panic attack and probably hurt himself really bad, but hed end up calling artyom over anyway, begging for his help because its too much for him to deal with on his own. hed forgive him immediately as soon as he gives him some half assed attention to his cuts.

artyom comments on nikitas weight and body all the time - poking his sides and talking about how he needs to lay off. it makes nikita feel terrible because he just wants artyom to think hes pretty (he never will either way) so he does just that, but it doesnt really work which further upsets him.

if artyom ever wanted to drug nikita he wouldnt even have to bother doing it himself. he just has to wait until nikita gets himself fucked up and then he can do whatever he wants to him.

artyom tries to make nikita throw up on purpose. he would probably make him lick and eat it up afterwards.

once nikita is feeling so god awful and completely beaten down then artyom will give him a little praise and comfort. hed tell him here and there that he was proud of him for doing something and that his body was looking a little better as well as other stuff - maybe even touching him a little too.

nikita definitely misses out on a lot of stuff just so he can hang around artyom. like if his mom ever planned anything for him he would just tell her off and go over to artyoms apartment instead.

nikita gets jealous really easily. any time artyom talks to a girl or something he gets upset and it becomes a whole big thing between the two of them which just leads to a lot of arguing and fighting.

nikita is typically just trailing behind artyom and following him around wherever he goes like a lost dog.

lots of physical fighting. artyom will take any opportunity he can to beat the absolute shit out of him - if he has a lot of pent up anger and stress then hes quick to let it out on nikita. nikita just takes it laying down, but will be begging and crying for him to stop - he stills lets it happen though because he wants to help artyom feel better.

nikitas always going home with new bruises and cuts. when his mom is there she’ll ask him about it but he’ll immediately cut her off and tell her its none of her business.

artyom doesnt like to smoke, but he will do it just so that he can put the cigarettes out on nikita when he feels like it.

artyom definitely encourages nikitas self harm behaviors - hed even help him do it. he would show him better ways to cut himself and what not just so that more blood can be drawn and he’ll be ruined further.

sex between them is just as terrible as youd imagine. nikita would be non stop begging and sobbing - wanting artyom to be gentle and not so mean with what hes doing, but artyom is just focused on getting done and using nikita as a human fleshlight basically. he never cares for anything thats sweet or romantic while the other just wants everything to take time and be as intimate as possible.

artyom specifically likes to cum on nikitas face and nikita has an oral fixation so it all works out super well. he makes him eat all the cum afterwards too while he laughs at him for how dumb he looks.

whenever theyre out killing people artyom will make nikita do a lot of the work and will call him a pussy if he doesnt want to do it. then he’ll proceed to laugh at him because of how hesitant and careful hes being.

[parfaitblogs]

please headcanon on breaking up with spencer after jj. reader is cold and dry because he keeps neglecting her over jj. i am also one of the angst lovers! 🙏🏻🙏🏻

one thing about me is i haaate the jeid storyline. more than anything. this was so brave of me… bravest girl in the world award goes to me…

okay so i think his neglectfulness will simply come down to him not being able to focus on two emotionally charged events at once. he’s not even neglecting you to talk to jj more, he’s neglecting you to talk to jj about it. in his mind he’s protecting you from more hurt because if he can just sort this weird confession thing out with her, then it can be put behind everyone and all will be fine. because no, he doesn’t not like jj, and no, he does not feel anything other than frustration at her for confessing like that. in fact, he’s more irritated at the wedge it’s shoved into your relationship than anything.

but you don’t know that obviouslyyyy. spencer reid master communicator he is NOT. so to you all these pull asides with jj to talk to her while he’s barely sparing you a fully strung together sentence is providing no comfort whatsoever.

you’re giving him the cold shoulder, he thinks he’s successful in avoiding you until this is resolved, and things go on plainly like that for awhile.

and then he finally talks to jj. probably does get upset with her, and it’s a lot of words contradicting what your own brain is conjuring up about this situation and you don’t even know. so he’s arguably quite surprised when he finally reaches out to you again, and you don’t talk to him.

i think his good intentions would be overwhelmed by the way you felt the entire time, and the principle of the situation would be qualms for a breakup. in my opinion, at least… but i can’t do unhappy ending (yes i can god im such a freaking liar) so like all my other avoidant reader headcanons you’d probably take a short while apart to work through your emotions individually, and then come back and things would end up okay because all it was, was an outsider getting in between your relationship, and spencer reid sucking at showcasing his love for you.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Nov 25th

~*~

1. ITMF meeting at someone's workplace! kinda like wwx gets the hots for his dentist or doctor, or lz finds himself pining over the bike mechanic! thanku!

A Lot's Gonna Change by etymologyplayground (T, 5k, WangXian, Meet-Cute, Weddings, Humor, Banter, Flirting, Slow Dancing, Modern AU, Sexual Tension)

Deep Dive by MimiSpearmint (E, 24k, WangXian, Modern AU, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Are Bad at Communicating, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Therapy, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Career Ending Injuries, counsellor!lwj, give lwj friends agenda, background NieLan, Melbourne, Eventual Smut, Crack, Baby JL, domestic abuse is discussed but does not happen, Baby LSZ, Baby LJY, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Good Sex Practices, Implied Slight D/s, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Cameos by various minor characters)

A Single Note by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub)

crystalized by gusuvibes (M, 25k, WangXian, Modern, Bakery, Pining, Getting Together, Baker LWJ, Nurse WWX, OYZZ in a STARRING ROLE, Bunnies With Bad Names, Elaborate Descriptions of Delicious Baked Goods, Frottage, Eventual Smut, Sexy, Baking, Time)

Fight Me? by Witch_Nova221 (G, 5k, WangXian, Romantic Comedy, Hospitals, patient lwj, Nurse WWX, Medication, Minor burns, under the influence of medication, Funny, Silly, threadfic)

🔒divine, divine by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Fluff, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, For an extremely minor injury/cut on the hand, Meet-Cute)

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern, bartender WWX, Drunk LWJ, Caretaking, Meet-Cute, meeting your soulmate because someone got him drunk AF and left him at your bar, late-night diner food, Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, sort of a eulogy for a particular diner I really miss, not that that's relevant to the story but it's relevant to my feelings)

You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Modern AU, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fuck, slightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative) I actually recommend "You Only Die Twice" by mikkeneko. It's an assassin/hitmen AU but my bookmarker's tag on it is "surprisingly close to a coffeeshop AU" and I think it hits the notes the requester is looking for

~*~

2. Are there any fanfics that have animals adoring Wei ying I know that there's no lions in China but just imagine a tiger or a lion. wwx befriends a huge cat because he's terrified of dogs and cats are okay and a lion or tiger it's okay with the rabbits that he has and the rabbits also adore him as well / Hi to fic finder so I'm kind of in a mood so do you have any fic where wwx has like a pet tiger or like he finds a cub and raise it and the cup thinks it's his mother or something like that I just want wwx to have a pet tiger or lion because I think wwx would be a cat person but also a bunny person so he has bunnies too and a tiger or lion doesn't eat the bunny because they're friends and the tiger and lion only eats fish but sometimes they go for deer meat or whatever @constancebloodstone (both asks from the same person)

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer) The summary makes it sound very misunderstanding heavy but I think it's balanced very well. Just the right amount of misunderstandings, if you will

~*~

3. Hi! This is for ITMF. A marriage of convenience/arranged marriage where WWX and LWJ promised each other to try to love each other. Like the fic focused on them get to know each other. No misunderstanding. Well not too much. And i dont want the kind of misunderstanding where WWX/LWJ suspected that the other like someone else. And no angst please. Well not too much

Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

🔒 In Agreement by kuro (T, 9k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship)

💖 sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

forever is home (with you) by moonsteps (T, 23k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, the inherent romance of the forehead ribbon)

Lead Me On Through by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 54k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Practice Kissing, practice other things, horny boys in love, questionable logic, Questionable Choices, they’re dumb but cute) where Wei Ying & Lan Zhan fall in love with each other and then learn that they've been betrothed for an arranged marriage.

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4. Hello mods!! For the next ITMF i'm looking for a fic where someone other than lan zhan is interested in wei ying and is trying to hit on him. Lan zhan getting jealous and trying to hit on wei ying too! Like a real cliche yk :D two characters fighting for ones love. i'm just craving that 😶‍🌫️anywayss as always thank you in advancee!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

🔒💖 Advisable Lan rules and other shenanigans by apathyinreverie (G, 4k, WangXian, Humor, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, as in utterly unapologetic fix-it fluffiness, Drunk LWJ, exasperated WWX, Smitten LWJ, Soft WWX, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Possessive LWJ, In Vino Veritas, Drunk Shenanigans, Fluff, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

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5. Hello! For the next ITMF, could I please get your favorite fics of WWX and MY as family/besties? Thank you!

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre (T, 24k, MXY & WWX, MXY & JGY, LSZ & LWJ, wangxian, canon divergence, child abuse, bullying, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, kidfic, minor canonical character death, injured WWX, earn your happy ending) very much seconding the rec for "What Builds a Home" -- also "i'll take a secondhand monster" by the same author is a good rec for this too.

also this university AU: how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Actors, Multimedia, Online Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Underage Drinking, Drinking Games, Families of Choice, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Catfish AU)

also passing along these two recs from others

Pocketful of Soul by Jenrose (T, 182k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF MXY, MXY Lives, Genderfluid MXY, MXY Backstory, POV MXY, If At First You Don’t Succeed Try Try Again and Again and Again, Wangxian Speedrun, times three because time travel, Found Family, Genius MXY, Genius WWX, Not particularly JGY friendly, CQL-based)

Equilateral by DangerousCommieSubversive (E, 62k, WangXianYu, MXY/XY (past), Implied XiYao, Canon Divergence, MXY Deserves Happiness, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Mental Health Issues, Ableism, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Homophobia, Self-Esteem Issues, Consensual Possession, Sharing a Body, Romance, Comedy, Love Confessions, Scheming NHS, Fierce Corpse WN, Fierce Corpse SL, Post-Yi City Arc, Romantic OYZZ, Drunk LWJ, distinctly janky use of resentful energy, Dissociation, Golden Core Reveal, Genderfluid MXY, Crossdressing, Disguise, Blow Jobs, Pregnancy Kink, Mild Gore, Fierce Corpse NMJ, Courtroom Drama, Dark NHS, Capital Punishment)

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6. Hi please help with savage or bedass wei Wuxian. Powerful . Like villain get more ( every kind of) torture than wei Wuxian. I love to have every kind of ff . Just not Pitiful wei Wuxian or lan Zhan. Crazy rich bc vibes you know @richie-234

The crow on the roof by sparkly (G, 17k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, LJY & WWX, POV WWX, Established WangXian, WWX being a badass, LQR is something of a badass himself, Begrudging Mutual Respect, LJY Being LJY, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Snark, Forgiveness, tentative friendship)

green flame, black flute, red ribbon by Fleetling (T, 3k, pre-relatinoship wangxian, LSZ & LJY, LJY POV, wwx kills people violently and with extreme prejudice, don’t mess with lwj and/or the juniors wwx will not be pleased, Hurt/Comfort, warnings for kidnapping, intimidation using weapons, and wwx literally driving people insane and ripping them apart, OC Lan juniors, the juniors all decide that wwx can be terrifying but also is cool and fun to tease, it’s soft at the end)

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, BAMF WWX, Kidnapping, Violence, YLLZ WWX, not exactly but the vibes are there, Post-Canon)

re:#6, they may want to look into the "murder husbands" trope , i don't have any recs but it sounds like that is what they want ?🩵

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7. Hi! I think this is how it works,

umm for ITMF: I’m looking for fics with good worldbuilding! AUs, Canon Divergence, anything goes (except for modern au; not my favorite.) I would also prefer if they were longer.

Thank you! @cavernofdragons

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

made for each other by KouriArashi (T, 118k, JYL/NMJ, WangXian, JC/WQ, LXC/JGY, LXC & NMJ, NMJ & NHS, JC & JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, Romance, Developing Relationship, Slow Build, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Sibling Bonding, Class Issues, first half is fluffy but then, Sunshot Campaign, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Boyfriends, Happy Ending, Not Everyone Dies)

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don’t know what daemons are that’s ok because I explain it in the author’s note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn)

Flowers Blooming in the Dark by TheLegendOfChel (T, 64k, WangXian, Gods & Goddesses, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, but it's still in a xianxia/wuxia setting, Pining, Mutual Pining, Courtship, Forbidden Love, Hades and Persephone AU, Kidnapping, Kind Of, Smitten LWJ, Smitten WWX, Fluff, Courting Rituals, Secret Relationship, Minor XuanLi, Minor ChengSang, references to wwx's canonical kinks, Child LSZ, Tooth-Rotting Fluff)

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8. In the mood for badass Huaisang. I wonder if there is fic where Huaisang would be the one who was kidnapped by Wen Ruohan during the war (instead of Nie Mingjue). It doesn't matter how Huaisang would end up in such predicament but I bet it would be amazing to read about it. I bet the things would end up quite differetly if Huaisang went toe with toe with Wen Ruohan :D (rather than hot head Mingjue). Or there doesn't even have to be kidnapping. I think we didn't get Wen Ruohan&Nie Huaisang scenes in canon or fics (not that I know of) and it's a pity.

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

Something Divine by jusrecht (T, 10k, NHS & NMJ, Canonical Character Death)

refrain; a musical phrase repeating in a song or instrumental piece Series by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T/G, 51k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Memory Loss, Canon-typical dismemberment, Post-Series, but also mid-series ya feel, Changing Tenses, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Confused WWX, Crack Treated Seriously)

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao))

Kiss of the Rose by sami (M, 8k, NHS/OFCs, NHS & NMJ, NHS & MXY, NHS & JGY, Family, original trans female character, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, but only one of them knows it at the time, Pining, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, NHS drinks Respect For Women juice, courting, Please read notes)

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder) and metisket's other fics, though NHS is a pretty minor character

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

Jailbreaking by CullenBlue (T, 21k, WN & NHS, Canon Compliant, POV NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, Cinnamon Roll WN, Fierce Corpse WN, Ghost General WN, References to Heavens Official’s Blessing, References to The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System, NHS insulting the Wen Clan’s taste in interior Decorating, Mentions of Murder, WN made a friend by talking about his childhood trauma, BAMF WN, Panic Attacks, mentions of gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence in the Name of Comedy, Trauma, Is NHS taking anything seriously? who knows, Bromance)

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9. Hii for itmf, do you have any fics that either A) post cannon fluff or B) time travel au's with the juniors?

9A)

A Lifetime of It (Please, and Thank You) by misscam (M, 5k, WangXian, Wedding, a mix of series and novel, Humor, Fluff, Angst, some naughtiness, Switching)

coop d'état by wolfsan11 (G, 4k, WangXian, Fluff and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Chickens, WWX-centric, Post-Canon Modao Zushi Novel, Married WangXian, therapy chickens)

and i will go this way by detention_notes (T, 24k, WangXian, Romance, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Love Letters, Epistolary, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, Kissing, Drunken Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, Marriage)

And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

How to Keep Your Diplomatic Asset Close (and Your Wei Ying Closer) by His Excellency by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, Getting Together, Fluff, Smut, Humor, CQL!verse, some inspiration from the novel)

If It's You by etymologyplayground (T, 1k, WangXian, Fluff, Reunions, Getting Together, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension)

Look Not With The Eyes by Spodumene (G, 28k, WangXian, Case Fic, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, There Was Only One Bed, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Original Character Death(s))

9B)

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, Zhuiling, Time Travel Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, Canon Related, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Good brother JC, Good JZX, CQL Verse)

🔒 Forget Myself in Memories by geethr75 (T, 10k, JC& WWX, JC & JL, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, WangXian, LXC & NMJ, JYL/JZX, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travel Fix-It, Juniors travel to the past, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, double trouble, Past WWX meets future WWX in MXY’s body, Past JC meets future JC, Sect Leader JL, Sect Leader OYZZ, Sect Heir LJY, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, JGY dies as Meng Yao, SS and JZN dies, JGS dies, WQ & WN lives, JYL & JZX Lives, Canon doesn’t exist anymore, no golden core transfer, No golden core melting, The Juniors save the day, WWX saves the day too, Alternate Timelines)

Stubborn Shadows by secretlyteo (teobunn) (T, 24k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, comes in at the moment WC dies, Wangxian ducking around with their past selves, LSZ is tired and would like to go home)

Time Travel, Obviously by nirejseki (Not Rated, 1k, Time Travel, Crack)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

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10. Hi! This is ITMF. I want to read a fic where LSZ and LJY are twins and their parents is WangXian. Adopterd or blood. No bottom and omega LWJ, please. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

All The Years Lost by UseMyMuse (T, 26k, WangXian, Teen Pregnancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Single Parent AU, Forced misunderstandings, Forced miscommunication, Mpreg)

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11. for itmf

are there any fics where post canon wwx ages and dies and lwj either follows or lives on for his legacy??? @bunnycoffeeumcat

🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, cultivation is -kinda- commonplace, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic) is what comes to mind first. It's not exactly "WWX dies/LWJ lives on" kinda thing. It plays more on Reincarnation!AU but LWJ is an immortal and is searching for WWX. Hope This Helps!!

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12. Hi! itmf wangxian fic where one or both of them turn into bunnies. Canon era. AU modern. Whatever, just, BUNBUN!!! @thegertie

Hanguang-Jun and His Beloved Pet Rabbit by 96qutie (E, 61k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish, Rabbit WWX, Yao WWX, Demon WWX, Autistic LWJ, Neurodiversity, WWX Has ADHD, Animal Transformation, LWJ loves his rabbit with all his heart, LWJ is lonely so I'm giving him a pet, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Different First Meeting, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Shameless Smut) its a wip but regularly updated

🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels, get JC therapy 2020, Kissing)

🔒💖 blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, shapeshifting, supernatural elements, fluff & humor)

heartkeeper by postingpebbles (G, 7k, WangXian, Animal Transformation, Canon Divergence, no war au!!, Shapeshifting, light convos abt the jiang family dynamic, wwx draws a lot and talks to a rabbit: the fic, former threadfic!!, Fantasy)

it’s you, it was always you by myung (G, 7k, WangXian, Supernatural Elements, Bunny LWJ, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, WQ Lives, Spanish Translation Available, wen siblings are alive because i love them and i have no excuse, Mojo's post)

Lost and Found by diamondbruise (E, 52k, WangXian, Modern AU, Aliens, Slow Burn, Alien LWJ, Crack Treated Seriously, Soulmates, Kid Fic…..kind of, i use that tag very loosely, Masturbation, Rough Sex, canon typical cnc elements, Happy Ending)

Tales From Bunny Mountain by telarna (G, 5k, wangxian, JL/LSZ, JL&WWX, so many bunnies, lan buns, Tales From Bunny Mountain [Podfic] by esbielle)

the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, WangXian, modern cultivation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Getting Together, Confessions)

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13. Hello! ITMF Wei Wuxian having a harem and/or a lot of suitors? I am comfortable with poly fics or if he ends up with just one person. I want to read about him being the flirt / stallion that all the rumors say he is! Thank you!

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14. Looking for fics with sad, lonely or depressed Wei Wuxian

Already read Farewell My Concubine and Concord and that’s the level of emotional damage I’m looking for

Thank you so much in advance @kanrax-blog

A Marriage Alliance with a Summer Wedding, Anyone? by Herlilacskies (Not Rated, 146k, WangXian, WIP, Arranged Marriage, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt Eventual Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, three years post-Sunshot Campaign, not including years of war, Wedding, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX is Bad at Communicating, WWX is Not Okay, LWJ Loves WWX, WWX is a Mess, in that he's deeply unwell, LWJ is a Mess, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Mental Instability, Mental Health Issues, unstable WWX)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

💖 nothing you confess by PorcupineGirl (T, 31k, WangXian, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, POV Alternating, Golden Core Reveal, Depressed WWX, WWX Has PTSD, JC & LWJ Friendship, friendship may be too strong a word more like allies who are gonna love the shit outta post-burial-mounds WWX whether he likes it or not, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery)

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 60k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death, Depression, Psychological Trauma, Justice, Fear, Angst, No War AU, Attempted Murder, Bad Parent YZY, POV Third Person, POV LXC, Podfic Available, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Romantic Gestures, Recovery, POV LWJ, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective LWJ, Protective LQR, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Minor Injuries, Painting, Gift Giving, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Good Sibling JC, Good Sibling JYL, BAMF WWX, Jealous SS, WWX Protection Squad)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

💖 (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 291k, wangxian, major character death, time travel, characters watching their show, suicide attempt, panic attacks, self-harm, nightmares, hurt/comfort, angst, WIP)

Possible Works 2 - Numb by Hauntcats (M, 6k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, unhappy wwx, Time Travel Fix-It)

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15. Hi, thankyou for your hard work 🙌🏻

may i ask you to rec me some wangxian canon fics which have slow burn, angst and of course a happy ending.

If it's a/b/o then also it'll be great. ( I'm in a mood for some omegaverse fics as well )

I prefer top lwj and bottom wwx.

Thankyou 🫶🏻 @bluepinks-world

Linger by the Door (I’ve Always Been Yours) by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, slow burn, canon compliant) not sure I'm understanding the "canon" request, e.g. if OP is looking more for "missing scenes" style fit-in-between-events-of-canon fic. But here's a fic about them getting together post-(TV show)-canon

denumerable by chinxe (T, 7k, wangxian, canon compliant, pining, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, scar-kissing) oh here's a missing-scenes-style fic

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16. Hi, so is it possible to find a fic about Lan wangji being OOC, and him traveling back in time and this time around gets to know more about wwx and its just bashing The Jiang family? And saving wwx from them? @devotedlyannoyingcupcake

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

🔒 Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian's version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 64k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

~*~

17. Hi! I hope everyone is having a great day

Today itmf meng Yao becoming an amazing lan-furen and wwx being lan-er-furen as well

Thanks!

and here I am, softer than a shower (and here I am, to garland you with flowers) by Ariaste (T, 7k, LXC/JGY, WangXian, JGY & WWX, Family Bonding, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Modern, Established Relationship, Nice Lan Boys Marry Gremlins, Slice of Life, tense family dinners, sajiao for great justice, dedicated to the xiyao troll, seriously this one's tooth-rotting fluff you guys) the whole series, really, but this is the first one that really focuses on their status as Lan in-laws (Meng Yao is definitely winning the "best son-in-law" award, Wei Ying doesn't even contest it lol)

The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies) maybe also these two? they focus mostly on the events leading up to the marriage(s) but there's focus on Meng Yao (and wwx) being assets to the Lan clan, especially the Twin Jades

can't find a way home by KouriArashi (M, 109k, WangXIan, JC & JYL, JC & JYL & LWJ, LXC/JGY, WQ & WWX, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Family Feels, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical political bullshit, Mental Health Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Descriptions of suicide, (caused by dark magic)) maybe also these two? they focus mostly on the events leading up to the marriage(s) but there's focus on Meng Yao (and wwx) being assets to the Lan clan, especially the Twin Jades

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[aspionagee]

First off-- I'm a HUGE fan of your writing, you have no idea how stoked I am for the next installment of A Patchwork Family. I was never a fan of severitus before I came across your fic by chance but your writing is so good it turned me onto it.

I was wondering if you had any severitus fic recs? I saw you post something about crime and punishment and gave that one a read (SO good), and since it seems you have incredible taste to go along with your incredible writing skills I was hoping you could help me out 💚

Thank you very much for the question! I actually have a ton of fic recs for Severitus, and I've been meaning to make a list for a while, so in no particular order here it is!

1. A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight

This fic is also very special to me, and directly inspired A Patchwork Family. Snape ends up adopting Harry and Draco during their sixth year. It was written before the sixth and seventh books even came out, so there's a very fascinating plot!

2. To Trust by Clairdeloon

This one has a runaway Harry being sent to live with Snape after the Dursleys die before his first year. If you like angst this is the one to go for; it hurts so much but it's so worth it.

3. Time Left Today by gzdacs

After the situation with Quirrell, Harry is wanted by the Ministry for questioning. Snape is forced to transport him across Europe to hide him (with things progressively going more and more wrong!). Very enjoyable fic

4. Tension's Empathy: The Wanderers Curse by yarrowmirth

Another "Harry and Snape on the run" one, set after fifth year. I particularly enjoy how long it takes Snape and Harry to warm up to each other! It's also criminally underrated. I check so often for updates you have no idea

5. Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Would highly recommend this and its sequel, Acid Reigns. Features Snape semi-accidentally acquiring eight-year-old Harry(with some of the best, age-accurate writing of a child I've ever seen). He takes on a protective big brother role and it's so perfect! Acid Reigns also uploads every Tuesday without fail, which I always look forward to

6. obscured by illisius

A recent fic discovery for me, where Obscurial Harry is sorted into Slytherin and Snape has to help him. I am rarely in this much pain when reading a fic, oh my god. The ANGST. It's just so perfect, and I'm so excited to see what's coming next for the universe!

7. The Potions Master and his Golden Boy by HazelEyes25

If you like your Severitus slowburn, this is the one. During Harry's second year, Snape slowly goes from Harry's mentor figure to guardian. It's full of lots of nice hurt/comfort!

8. aim & ignite by shostakobitch

The only biological father Severitus on this list, and HEAR ME OUT! Because if Snape turned out to be Harry's biological parent, this is EXACTLY how it would have gone down. Snape is perfectly canon; he is the horrible, snarky and cruel man from book canon even as he learns how to be a caring man to his child. Such a hard balance to strike, but it is done PERFECTLY. It also features Girl!Harry which I very rarely see in Severitus. With the beautiful prose thrown in on top, all I can do is beg you all to give this a go! So worth a read!!

9. O Mine Enemy by KirbyLane

This is a classic! I've not read it in a while and it's next on my reread list. Again, very good characterisation. Both Harry and Severus feel very human. Takes place during fifth year, and switches up canon a bit which I always like!

10. Crime and Punishment by Melolcatsi

Just in case anyone else didn't see the Crime and Punishment rec, I want to still put it here. This is one of the first Severitus fics I ever read, and it's so very special to me! Harry gets sent to live with Snape in the summer after fourth year when he is falsely accused of stealing. Snape's characterisation in particular is stunning

I could keep rambling on for hours, but this is essentially my top ten! I hope you all enjoy!

[authorsofghosts]

He's real! | Horseman!Gambit x Reader | Pt. 3

Author's Notes: i am so sorry this one is short i just couldn't think of how to continue it without another big plot device that i wanted to save for the next chapter. @genderqueerbarbie777 beta read again :3

Summery: The X-Men come to save you and meet an unfamiliar familiar face.

Themes: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death, Previous Relationship, Betrayal, Cameos, Crying, Cursing, Death, Kidnapping, Panic Attacks (R's), R's a mutant/x-man (no powers described), Violence.

Word Count: 1.2k

first pt , prev pt

You cough as you feel Gambit quickly undo your bindings, letting you move freely as rumble and dust fills the room. You hear voices, besides his, calling out your name. You look at the man with his arms around you, eyes wide with fear, not knowing what's happening.

"Let 'em go, bub." You hear suddenly, looking to see Wolverine come from the smoke. He pauses as he looks at Remy, tilting his head. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Back off, Logan." Remy hisses, making the other man unsheathe his claws.

"What the- Yer not da Cajun. Ya can steal his looks an' voice, but you can't-" Wolverine is cut off as he smells the air, taking a step back.

"Wolverine!" A voice from the smoke, one you recognize as Scott's. "Who are you talking to-" He looks at Remy, hand rising to his visor. "Gambit?"

Your eyes widen as you see the two X-Men in front of you, looking at Gambit as you realize what's going to happen. Gambit grabs his baton with a smirk, "Don't worry, cher, I can handle myself." He extends and spins the rod before holding it at his side.

"Gambit, no!" You yell out, grabbing his by the sleeve of his coat, "P-please, you don't have to fight with Apocalypse!"

Remy looks back at you, his smirk fading as his brow furrows. He doesn't respond as he looks at Scott and Logan, who slowly approach. Gambit backs up, shielding you with his arm as he feels you press against his back. He narrows his eyes at his ex-teammates.

"Remy, you're alive?" Scott asks, his voice breaking slightly as he looks between the two of you. "That's... impossible!" The shaky air of the situation, glancing between all of the people in front of you, you can't help my shiver.

"Gambit!" You and Scott yell out in unison, Remy being sent back with a yellow blast that came from the palm of Mister Sinister. You run over to him and cradle his face in your hands before searching for his pulse point. "Please, please, God, fuck!"

"Don't worry, cher. Gonna take a lot mo' 'an that to knock ol' Gambit down." he says weakly, using his baton to sit up, You press your hand against his chest, holding him down as you continue to make sure he's okay.

"Come on, no, you're not going anywhere." You murmur, eyes looking over him as you spot something a little too late. A terrible, stupid mistake. Gambit cries out in pain as a green, sharp plantlike object goes straight through his chest, your eyes widening as you gasp. "Remy!" You cry, tears streaming down your face.

He grabs your face, barely able to move as he sinks down to the ground, sliding deeper on the hardened, mossy wood. He laughs softly as he looks up at you, eyes wide. "Mon amour, don't cry.... Gambit's bounced b-back from... worse" He talks, blood dripping from his lips and into your palm as you cup his cheek.

You press your forehead against his, shushing him softly as your tears fall down onto his face, "No, no you're not making it out of this.... please, please.... I love you." Your voice shakes as you weep, "Please, don't go, Remy, please..."

"Like you said, petit, I ain't goin' n'where." He laughs, clearly hurting himself as he does. He looks past you as Scott stands above the two of you. "Hey, Scotty boy..."

"Gambit, I-" Cyclops starts, putting his hand over his mouth as he truly takes in the sight. "I'm so sorry-"

"Naw, it's ain't nobody's... fault." Gambit groans, clearly trying to make his last moments slightly more comfortable. His eyes gaze back into yours, his pupils dilating and the red of his irises disappearing. "Don't beat chaself up. It was bound t' happen. This Cajun been kickin' a little too easy lately."

"Don't say that, no, Remy, please." You sob, pulling back and looking at the green, harden wood spear through his chest, trying to figure out what to do. You look up at Scott, eyes bloodshot and vision blurred by the constant flow of tears. "Please, we have to do something, Cyclops! Please-" you grab Scott's legs, "-we gotta keep him alive, please..."

"Remy, please..." You put your arms around him, holding him back, "Come back with us." You whisper softly, your nose planted into his shoulder blade.

"Listen to 'em, ya don't wanna make 'em start crying like last time, Cajun." Logan said, pulling off his mask as he looked at the two of you, taking another step forward.

Gambit's eyes flicked between the two in front of him and then you behind him. He sighed slightly before crackling a smirk. "I mean, you said it yourself, cher. You don't love me." He pushes you, throwing you into Wolverine's arms as he growled slightly. "You loved da old me, and I 'ain't him' huh?"

Cyclops put his fingers back up to his visor as he looked back at Gambit, "Remy-" He starts, quickly being cut off.

"Nope. Wrong number, mon ami." Gambit laughed darkly, "Name's Death." He smirked, running a hand through his silver locks before grabbing a card, lighting it with kinetic energy before throwing towards the feet of you and Wolverine.

"God damn it, not an'ther brainwashed idiot." Logan growls, pulling you away, "Come on, you ain't in no shape t' fight." He picks you up in his arms and slowly start walking backwards, looking between Scoot and gambit. "You got this, Cyke?"

"Yeah, I can handle him. Bring them to safety and head back A.S.A.P."

"Don't gotta tell me twice." He chuckles, slipping into the still dust cloud behind you both, "Jean! Storm!" He yells out, walking towards the hole in the wall where a door used to me. You tense as you realize more of the team are here, whether it be to save you or defeat Apocalypse, you can't believe that they found you so quickly.

Even if it was true you didn't know just how long you were down there, but by the look on everyone's faces when Logan brought you to them told you anything, it was quite a while. Wolverine sets you down next to Jean, who quickly holds you upright, "You alright?"

You nod, watching Wolverine turn back towards the room. "Storm, with me. Jean, take 'em outta hear. It might get ugly."

"No, please!" You call out, reaching for Logan's shoulder, "Don't hurt him! H-he's still in there, I'm just... stupid. I upset him."

Logan's eyes narrow at you before he rolls them, putting his mask back on. "Doesn't matter. That's not Remy, not the 'ne we knew."

"But he is! He remembers everything, he remembers us. All of us, I'm sure. He remembers me, specifically. And, I'm sure he... he cares deep down." You look at Jean, your face filled with as much worry as your voice. You sniffle slightly, "Please... don't kill him."

There was a silence between the X-Men for a few seconds before one sighed. "They're right. Gambit's still, well... himself." Jean said, walking in front of Wolverine. "If anyone can convince him to come back, it's them." She nodded towards you, a soft smile on her lips.

You didn't even have to ask what she meant, and she didn't tell you. You collected yourself before standing between Jean and Logan, looking towards the room where Scott was fighting Gambit, the sounds of cards exploding and lasers hitting walls echoing through the hall. "Let's go before one of them kills the other."

"My bet's on the Cajun"

"Shut the fuck up, Logan."

[ktkpopping]

Burn

summary: following a devastating breakup, your best friend Mingi helps you to put yourself back together

Hello again!! This fic was inspired solely by how Mingi says “burn it” in Outlaw. I heard it and immediately had the thought that it would make a cool fic idea. If you like some angst and a lot of hurt/comfort, then this is the fic for you!!

This fic can be read as gender-neutral! There are no identifying traits to mc or their ex-partner.

warnings: depictions of depression and anxiety throughout the story. This is a fic following a nasty breakup and the mc struggles in the aftermath.

pairing: best friend Mingi x reader

genres: heavy angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 8.8k

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60850432

———

You sat there stunned, unable to comprehend the words displayed before you on the screen.

LOML💕

It’s over, I found someone else

Sorry y/n

Your person, or who you THOUGHT was your person, had found someone else??

As you stood there in your apartment, your phone fell from your hands as you dropped to your knees, sitting there unseeing at the linoleum floor as you tried to process the abrupt end of your relationship.

How were you supposed to move on?

You wondered if you’d ever be able to stop crying, or if your eyes would ever cease to be swollen.

It’s been weeks since your breakup, yet you still felt the pure anguish and heartache, which were slowly fading their way into anger. How could they do this to you?

Two years of time wasted on someone who had the utter AUDACITY to callously end your relationship VIA TEXT MESSAGE because they had “found somebody else.”

What the fuck? The texts were a blow to your self esteem and you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover. You hated what those words made you see in the mirror–someone unworthy of anyone’s time.

How could someone who had claimed to love you exhibit such cowardice? Had you really known them at all? How long had this dalliance been going on? Did they cheat? Was it physical or emotional?

Dark clouds loomed in your mind as you spiraled and felt more tears leak out.

What was the point in anything? You stayed in bed and refused to shower because you were just going to get dirty again. You didn’t have the energy to stand upright for that long anyway. Staying here in bed was your safe haven, and you didn’t want to move.

Burying your face into your pillow you screamed until your voice was hoarse and you felt a little dizzy, hoping that the exhaustion and misery would overtake you.

That’s how your best friend, Mingi, found you. Laying face down and sniffling on a messy bed and a floor covered in tissues, takeout wrappers, and dirty clothes, while attempting to dry your tears on the sleeve of your oversized hoodie. Probably one of Mingi’s old ones, if he had to guess.

Mingi was the only person besides your partner, well, ex-partner, that had a key to your place. He made a mental note to remind you to change the locks, though he doubted the fucker would ever come back here for any reason.

Mingi couldn’t help but feel his heart clench painfully at the sight of his best friend in this state. It looked like you had barely moved in days. You deserved so much better than someone who would throw you to the side so easily.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to get your attention, but you were too far gone in your anguish to hear him. Tentatively, he ventured closer and tried again. This time, you heard his deep cough and turned your heavy head toward the sound.

His eyes found yours and softened even more at the heartbroken expression on your face. He came closer and you felt the bed dip as he sat his large frame close to you.

You abruptly shifted and flung yourself into his arms, hearing him exhale an “oof” at the unexpected contact, but quickly locking his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

You sobbed harder into his chest as he tucked your head under his chin and began rubbing his large hands up and down your back in a comforting motion.

The two of you stayed like this for a while until your heaving sobs quieted into soft sniffles, his grip on you never relenting.

“How could they do this to me, Min? I know it’s been weeks, I just can’t—I can’t fucking believe they ended it this way!! Found someone ‘better’,” you scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean?!? Did I really mean so little to them?”

The tears welled up as your breaths became uneven again.

You and Mingi had had this conversation before, but it was clear it would take a while to come to terms with the reality of the situation. Mingi’s heart continued to break for you, but he vowed that he’d always be by your side and he’d do his damndest to help you get through it.

You could feel the rumble of his deep voice against you as he spoke. “It’s cliche to say, but they’re not fucking worth it. I know in the back of your mind you know this and you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but it’s true.”

You choked out what sounded like a scoff.

“I know. I KNOW. But like…I just…I loved them. I LOVED them. Did they even love me? They’ve made me feel so fucking worthless and I don’t know why I can’t just let it go!” you wailed into his chest.

He tightened his hold around you. “You don’t have to justify your feelings to me, you’re entitled to feel however you want about that jackass. I’m not the one to dictate how you grieve or process. I’m just here, as your best friend, to hold you and help you through it. I always will be,” he murmured above you.

Your tears spilled out a little faster and you sniffled into his chest. “What would I ever do without you, Min? I can’t believe I have you in my life sometimes.”

You and Mingi had known each other for well over a decade, having attended high school together and remaining close friends through college and the start of your careers.

You honestly don’t know how you would’ve made it this far without him.

———

“Mingi, promise me we’ll stick together no matter what. You’re my best friend in this whole world,” you stated, staring up at the stars with Mingi sitting next to you in the bed of his beat-up pickup.

“Of course y/n, I’ll always be with you. You’re my best friend too.”

And that’s how you always were. A package deal. Two peas in a pod, inseparable, but not in a way that makes the people around you uncomfortable. You and Mingi were the type of friends who could pull anyone in and make them feel like they’ve known you their whole lives.

You were eternally grateful for Mingi and his steadfast friendship, a strong and enduring presence in your life.

Him supporting you at events in high school, you in turn sticking with him in his obsession with e-sports and the quarterly decision to become a gym rat, giving up a mere 3 weeks later.

Him being a protective big brother at frat parties when someone got a little too handsy with you when he could see the distress plainly on your face.

You willing to go to war for him when some girl led him on and bruised his ego for a while one semester.

He was your best friend, your ride or die.

And you hoped it would always stay that way.

———

In the back of your mind you wondered if your friendship with Mingi had played into a hidden insecurity with your partner. Were they threatened? You were together for two years, if they were feeling insecure or threatened, why didn’t they vocalize it?

Little did you know, Mingi wondered the same thing. He hadn’t hated your ex until now, but they had treated you well and had never given any indication that they were a shitty partner or that your friendship with him had been a sore spot. The reasoning for leaving you really confounded him.

Noting your silence and sensing your impending spiral, Mingi squeezed you again to bring you back to the present and forced your focus back onto the feeling of his strong arms around you and his large frame pressed against your side.

You heaved out a sigh. “I still have so much of their shit here in the apartment, not to mention all the fucking photos we’d taken together. What am I supposed to do with it all? I don’t want to see that asshole’s face ever again if I can help it.”

“Burn it,” came Mingi’s casual reply.

You had to wonder if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, did you say BURN it?”

“Yeah, I did. Burn it,” you could feel his shrug as he shifted around you.

Turning to look up at him with disbelief in your eyes, you met his intense gaze with an incredulous one of your own.

“I can’t just BURN everything! There’s gotta be some fire code against that or something. Like how the fuck am I supposed to burn a PlayStation??” You remarked, exasperated. “I didn’t know you had a penchant for pyromania!”

Mingi chuckled in his rich, husky tone. “I was referring to the photos, maybe some of their clothes. We can either throw the rest at them or pawn it. Your choice, really, he hummed. “I just think it would be cathartic for you to set fire to some of the physical memories as a way of letting go. Perhaps even a phoenix-esque rebirth for you.”

You mulled over his suggestion.

“You don’t have to decide right now, I think you need to take some time to think about it and really allow yourself time to begin the moving on process,” he spoke into your hairline.

Mingi knew you were depressed, the state of your room and your mental wellbeing a clear indication to him. He knew exactly how it felt to hit rock bottom and feel so helpless, with zero motivation to do as much as even lifting your arms. He really wanted to be there for you as you had always been there for him during his bouts of depression and anxiety.

“In the meantime, you’ve been cooped up here in your room for far too long. I know how hard it is to break out of a despair so heavy, but you should take a shower and maybe brush your teeth to allow yourself to feel refreshed. I can help you with whatever you need, even if it means lifting the toothbrush myself. Hell, I could help you shower if you wanted. I don’t care. If you don’t want that, then I can help you clean up in here a bit. What would you prefer?”

He continued to rub soothing circles into your back and thigh as you considered his offer. “I’ll even carry you to the bathroom myself if that makes the decision easier.”

You sighed heavily and tightened your grip on him which indicated to him that you were going to take him up on this offer, so he kept his hold around your shoulders and scooped you up under your legs to bring you to your ensuite bathroom.

He deposited you on the counter and turned to look for your hair brush, hoping to work some of the knots out of your slightly matted hair before your shower. He found a comb, settling beside you to gently begin the detangling process. He worked in silence, being as thorough as possible without tugging too hard and causing you pain. You allowed him to work as you felt yourself zoning out and staring at the tile.

Eventually, he worked out the tangles and turned to start the shower. “Would you like me to help you shower, or do you think you can handle it yourself? If you want my help, I can bring you a bathing suit if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Mingi, we’ve both seen each other in extremely compromising positions in our years of friendship, I don’t care if you see my ass or any other bits for that matter, but I would love your help. I…just really don’t have the energy to hold myself up at this point.”

Nodding, Mingi moved to help divest you of your clothing, followed by his own. He turned back toward the shower to test the temperature, deeming it acceptable and then once again hoisted you into his arms to step into the shower.

Placing you gently under the spray, he set about looking for your face wash to start. He squirted some into your palm. “I don’t want to get any in your eyes, I know you can do this one,” he cooed softly at you, bringing your hands up to lather your face. As if on autopilot, you washed the buildup of oil and dried tears from your face and allowed the water to cascade over you.

Once you were finished, you turned back toward Mingi and he resumed his search of your products to locate your shampoo. Placing a suitable amount between his large palms, he turned you back around so that you were facing the spray and began to work his large hands through your hair and massaging your scalp.

You let out a contented hum as he massaged, shuddering a little at the feeling of his hands as they circled near your nape. Once he deemed suitable, he turned you back around to place your head under the spray as he let the water run through and wash away the suds. He continued to lightly massage his fingers through your now-clean hair, which left you uttering another contented sigh at the feeling.

Next, he went for the conditioner and turned you back around so that he could work the product through your ends. Once satisfied, he rinsed off his hands and reached for your silicone loofah, globbing body wash onto it and setting out to scrub the grime and dead skin off of you. He remained gentle as he worked his way up and down your body, nudging your legs apart at one point to wash between them. Following that, he detached the shower head and began rinsing you off, washing away however many days of wallowing and with it, some of the tension you had been feeling since you woke up that morning.

You leaned yourself back against Mingi and he wrapped his arms around you, once again locking you in a tight embrace as the water cascaded over the two of you, encasing you in a brief reprieve and moment of serenity.

As the water started to run tepid, Mingi turned off the tap and led you out of the stall to wrap you in a massive fluffy towel to dry you off. He worked diligently on you before grabbing another towel for himself and wrapping it around his waist.

“Wait here, I’m going to go strip your sheets and re-make your bed so that you have something clean to lay on.”

He left the room and you heard him banging around your closest looking for your clean sheets. Once again, you found yourself zoning out. You don’t know how long he was gone, but eventually you saw his blurred frame in front of you, snapping you back into the present and forcing your eyes up to his.

He reached out to caress the side of your face while holding your gaze. “Would you like me to help you brush your teeth, or do you think you can handle it yourself?”

Feeling a little bit less in your own head, you decided that you could handle this task yourself. You turned toward the sink and reached for the toothbrush and toothpaste to slowly rid your teeth of plaque and freshen your breath. You were slowly feeling a little more alive than previously thanks to Mingi.

Once you finished and rinsed your mouth out, you turned back towards Mingi and he offered you a hand, leading you gently out of the bathroom and back toward your room.

You noticed that he had thrown away all the trash and put your dirty clothes in the basket. Feeling your eyes well up a little bit, you turned to Mingi to thank him for his kindness and all his help.

“You don’t need to thank me. I know you would do the same for me if the situation were reversed. I’m happy to do anything you need to help you feel like yourself again,” he replied in a soft tone, hand once again moving to cup your face.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch for a moment, relishing in the comfort only Mingi could provide. Parting after a moment, you shifted back onto your bed, suddenly feeling the weight of everything settle on you, feeling utterly spent.

“Rest for a while. I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.” Mingi climbed in after you to settle against the headboard and help you into the blankets. You curled onto your side to face him as you got comfortable.

“Really, truly, thank you Mingi. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” His words echoing in your mind as you finally drifted off to sleep.

———

The next few weeks progressed with Mingi spending as much time as he could with you. You were able to get medical leave from work for another week to allow for a little more time to recover.

You and Mingi would spend evenings on your couch snuggled up and watching dramas and some of your favorite movies, and he would cook a delicious meal almost every night. Tonight, you and Mingi were curled up under a few blankets with bowls of stew.

“Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with your ex’s things?” asked Mingi between mouthfuls of food.

Swallowing your food, you tried to remember if you had heard from your ex in the previous weeks. Not remembering anything of note, you shook your head.

“They surprisingly haven’t asked for any of their shit back, so I’m not really sure if it needs to be an urgent matter or not. Frankly, I don’t care what they want because they broke my heart and deserve to rot.”

He chuckled. “Damn, brutal.”

You smirked back at him and took another bite of stew, reveling in the comfort of having your best friend here with you.

As you ate, you looked over at Mingi. His eyes were focused on the screen and you just took him in as he sat there. You were so grateful for him, you wouldn’t want anyone else as your best friend.

He must have felt you staring and he shifted his gaze back to yours.

“Do I have something on my face?”

You giggled at him as he smirked.

“Yeah, you do,” you said as you placed your bowl down and grabbed a throw pillow before launching it toward him.

Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he caught the pillow midair before it could smack him.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that one alright” he chuckled in a dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, you stood up quickly and bolted down the hallway toward your bedroom. Mingi followed after you, catching up in just a few long strides. Damn his long legs, you were no match for his pace.

He grabbed around your waist and threw you over his shoulder as you kicked your legs and slapped at his shoulders.

“Put me down you big dummy!”

“Do you yield?” he asked as you dangled helplessly, flailing in an attempt to be put down, but Mingi’s grip did not relent.

“Fine, fine!! I yield! Please put me down now!”

He gently set you back on your feet as you felt the blood rush back down from your face after being upside down.

You caught your breath and Mingi just continued to smirk at you with small chuckles.

“You’re a bold one, that’s for sure,” he intoned in his deep drawl.

You turned to glare at him, but were unable to maintain the expression as you looked at the goofy grin on your best friend’s face. You ended up doubling over to laugh, leaning forward to catch Mingi in a hug.

“Come on big guy, let’s go back to the couch and finish our show.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward your nest of blankets on the couch, settling back into the comfortable silence.

At some point you must have drifted off, because you wake to a darkened room and a blanket placed over you. You blink a few times and let your eyes adjust to the low light and see a note on the table.

I put away the leftovers and washed the dishes. I would’ve stayed but I have an early meeting tomorrow so I needed to head home. I’ll be around all week if you need something or want to hang out. Let me know if the idiot contacts you, I’ll be there with a lighter.

xx Min

You smiled at his barely legible script. Yeah, you really were lucky to have him as your best friend.

———

Another few weeks pass without contact from your ex. You were becoming comfortable with the idea that they genuinely didn’t care about whatever they left at your apartment, and had almost forgotten they left anything here at all.

You were finally able to go back to work, feeling a little less like the world was going to cave in on you. The despair you had previously felt morphed into righteous anger, then transformed again into a bit of numbness. But it was enough to make you forget about your failed relationship and return to a relative normalcy.

Evenings were still spent with Mingi, either at your place or his as he continued to find ways to help keep you and your mind occupied.

It was one night a week later as you were both sitting on opposite ends of your couch. You were sketching in a notebook and Mingi was reading a graphic novel, glasses perched on his nose and hair a little ruffled as if he had been absently running his fingers through it.

It was an adorable habit of his, messing up his hair as he focused on something. You smiled to yourself as you peered at him, looking back down to continue sketching.

You had lost yourself in the moment until you heard your phone go off. Thinking nothing of it, you flipped it over, blood immediately running cold at the familiar number on the screen.

Mingi looked over at you, dropping his book when he noticed the look on your face. You were frozen in shock, not sure what to do.

Mingi entered your line of sight as the ringing stopped, taking your phone out of your hands and placing it back on the coffee table. Grabbing your hands in his large ones, he squeezed, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hey, look at me. You’re shaking. Look in my eyes. Match your breathing to mine, okay?” Mingi grabbed one of your hands and placed it to his chest, prompting you to regulate your breathing to help you stave off the impending panic attack.

As you continued to breathe, you heard the phone go off again, prompting another small spike of panic.

“Hey, hey. Keep your eyes on me. Do you want me to answer it and talk to them?”

Unable to form words due to the rising panic and bile in your throat, you gave Mingi a barely perceptible nod.

“Okay. I’ll deal with it. What I need you to do for me is to keep your hands on your thighs and keep working on your breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Can you do that for me?”

He holds your gaze as you nod again.

“Alright, I’m going to let go of your hands now. I’ll be in the kitchen, in your direct line of sight. I won’t be long, I promise.”

He gives your hands another squeeze as he turns to grab the phone. A scowl crosses his features and he has to take a deep breath to prevent himself from blowing up at your ex over the phone.

Swiping the screen, he answers.

“What do you want, asshole?” Mingi practically growls.

“Mingi? Where’s y/n?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s where. Why are you calling? It’s been months. What the fuck could you possibly want?” Mingi seethes.

He supposes he could handle this a little more calmly, but he’s fucking LIVID at this idiot for the way they hung you out to dry.

“Hey man, lose the hostility. I’m not trying to start anything, I just want to come get the things I left at y/n’s place. Can I come by and grab it this weekend?”

Mingi sees red.

“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not letting you anywhere near y/n after the shit you pulled. What you’re gonna do is text me a list of the things you need, and I’ll leave them outside for you,” his voice low, dangerous, as he growls into the receiver.

“Jesus Christ Mingi, when did you become their guard dog? I always knew you two had something going on between you,” came the snide reply of your ex.

And there it was. If Mingi weren’t pissed before, he was furious now. That insecurity must’ve been festering long enough for them to seek comfort in someone else instead of being and adult and talking to you about it.

Though Mingi wondered if even that would’ve been enough for the sniveling little insecure worm to have been satisfied.

Drawing in a breath, Mingi closed his eyes and counted to 5 before responding.

“Y/n is my best friend. I’m sorry that your insecure ass couldn’t handle them having me as a friend. If that’s the reason you broke up with them, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought you were. You could’ve, you know, fucking TALKED to them about this instead of seeking comfort in the next person who fucking blinks at you. Pathetic. Send me your list, and don’t contact y/n ever again. We’re done here.” He hangs up before your ex can get another word in.

He continues to seethe. He can’t believe that little worm had the gall to show their face again all these weeks later. Steadying himself and forcing calming breaths, he turns his gaze back to you, eyes closed and head reclined back on the couch as you breathe deeply.

He pads back over to you, clearing his throat to announce his presence to prevent you from startling. You slowly crack your eyes open at his large form in front of you.

He kneels in front of you again, resuming the position with your hands in his.

Your voice is small and a little cracked as you speak.“What did they want?”

“They want their worthless stuff back. Why they couldn’t do this weeks ago is beyond me. Regardless, they want their shit.”

Your eyes widen in panic a bit. They’re going to come here? You don’t know if you can handle seeing them again.

Mingi squeezes your hands again. “Don’t worry, they’re not getting within 100 yards of you, I promise. We’ll gather everything and leave it outside so you don’t have to interact with them at all. I’m making them send me a list of everything.”

At this, your breathing evens out a bit, shoulders sagging in relief. Mingi leans forward to engulf you in his arms. “I’m here for you, y/n. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Ever.”

Once again leaning into his touch, you let Mingi embrace you until you feel your heartbeat and breathing returning to normal.

Finally calmed down, the encounter had left you absolutely wrung-out. “Min, I’m exhausted. Can you bring me to my room?”

“Of course, hold on tight.” He wrapped his arms tighter around you and hoisted you up off the couch. Curling into him, he walked you to your room and placed you down on the bed.

You shifted to get under the covers and he came around to lay next to you. You rolled over and rested your head on his chest, immediately being enveloped in his embrace.

He caressed your hair softly as he spoke. “Remember, I’m here for you and you’re not going to do this alone. We’ll start sorting through their things when you’re ready, and I’ll handle contact with them. We do this on YOUR terms. Not theirs. Alright?”

You nodded in assent and snuggled closer to Mingi as he continued to run his fingers through your hair.

“Thank you, Mingi,” you murmured into his chest.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head and you allowed your eyes to close and finally relax. You fell asleep that night in Mingi’s comforting embrace.

The week continued without any further contact from your ex, just as Mingi had promised. You were coming to terms with the fact you would have to face them, albeit in the form of their possessions, but face them and confront the memories and hurt you still felt.

After another few days, you felt that you were ready to confront them. You pulled out your phone to dial a familiar number.

“Min? I’m ready.”

Mingi arrived at your apartment about a half hour later with cardboard boxes, tote bags, and trash bags.

”Let’s fucking do this.”

———

You were fairly certain that most of your ex’s things were confined to your bedroom and ensuite bathroom, so that’s where you would concentrate your efforts.

You started with your dresser while Mingi focused on your closet.

Feeling unnerved by the silence, you decided to queue up a noisy playlist to fill some of the room and ease your anxiety over the situation. Mingi’s presence helped, but you figured that ambient noise would calm some of the buzzing in your brain and under your skin.

You heard Mingi chuckle when he realized what playlist you went for and you shot him a shy smile from your side of the room. He knew you well enough to understand you couldn’t handle silence when you were feeling anxious.

You heard his deep voice rumble out the rap of the song that was currently playing. You never failed to be amazed by the way he was able to follow the flow of a rap and add his own flair to whatever song he was going along to. In another life, you were sure he’d have a successful career as a rapper or an idol.

Having combed through your drawers and found all of your ex’s clothes, you shoved them into a trash bag and sealed it. You couldn’t care less if the clothes were wrinkled, the jackass deserved worse.

Steeling yourself, you moved over to Mingi’s side to work on the closet. When you reached him, you noticed him fixated on a box in the corner. You realized that it was the box of photos and other memories from your relationship that you had unceremoniously tossed in the corner like they had unceremoniously ended your partnership.

Your eyes began to well up with unshed tears and your breath hitched. Mingi immediately wrapped his arms around you and brought his focus to you. “You’re not alone. Remember, I’m right here. We don’t need to go through that box today. I still think we should burn it all, but it’s your choice on what to do with it,” he spoke softly into your hair.

You shuddered out a deep breath. “It’s okay. I knew in the back of mind that it was there, seeing it just caught me off guard.”

He held you steady as you re-regulated your breathing to match his, just like he taught you. Feeling calmed down, you opened your eyes and felt a new wave of determination wash over you. Mingi’s comforting words and embrace bolstered the confidence that you could get through this.

Leaving the box in the corner for last, the two of you combed through your clothes and other effects to gather all of your ex’s errant belongings and shove them in the bags and boxes Mingi had brought.

Your ex had left a surprising amount of clothing and a few pairs of shoes, so it was no wonder they finally came around to asking for their items returned. It wasn’t your fault they were thoughtless enough to leave shit at your place while they were warming someone else’s bed.

“I want to leave the box for last. I’m fairly certain it’s mostly photographs and other paper items. Let’s go over to the bathroom and deal with whatever bullshit they left there.”

“I’m sure they left half empty toiletries that we can just trash,” intoned Mingi. “No need to save any of that shit and burden us with excess bags.”

You nodded and moved to stand, but Mingi beat you to it, holding out his hand to help you to your feet.

Moving into the ensuite, you noticed that Mingi was dead-on in his assessment. Most of the things left were half empty tubes and bottles along with a used disposable razor and toothbrush you were absolutely not going to keep. You had half a mind to clean the toilet with it and give it back to your ex, but decided against it and tossed it into the trash.

The only other items of theirs that you had found around your apartment were the PlayStation, a few charging cables, books, and a pair of headphones.

Confident you had rid your apartment of the bad energy left by your ex’s belongings, you packed everything up and brought it into the living room.The only thing that remained was the box in the corner of your closet.

Mingi brought it out into the living room wordlessly and set it on the coffee table.

“What do you want to do?”

You took a steadying deep breath. Proud of yourself for coming this far, you were inclined to push through and get it over with, but you knew that some of the memories would engulf your emotions and you felt it was probably best to take a break first.

“I think I want to take a break and get something to eat. Maybe take a nap before I get into it.”

“Do you want me to drop this shit off? It doesn’t need to stay here while you relax. The sooner we’re rid of it, the better you’ll feel.”

You were so grateful Mingi was willing to do all of this for you. Cutting out direct interaction with your ex and going in your stead so that you wouldn’t have to.

You loved Mingi so much.

“Thank you Min, I honestly can’t thank you enough for being willing to do this for me.”

“I told you, y/n, you aren’t alone, and you never will be.”

You almost started crying right there. He noticed your shift in mood and came to sit beside you on the couch. You rested your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

“I’ll call them and let them know I’m dropping this shit in their front yard. That’s all the warning they need.”

Mingi squeezed you a little tighter before dropping his arm and tilting your chin up to look at him.

“I’ll be back in a few hours with some food. Take a nap and relax for a bit and then we’ll have dinner from one of your favorite takeout places. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like heaven, Min. Thank you so much.”

He smiled at you and his eyes crinkled in the way you loved. “Of course. I’ve always got you.”

You returned his smile easily. “Okay, I’m going to shower and get rid of some of these bad vibes after handling so much of their shit, and then I’m going to nap. Thank you again for all of your help today.”

“No problem, y/n. Now go shower, you reek of bad vibes,” he wrinkled his nose playfully and chuckled.

You giggled back and smacked his arm lightly for the barb.

You both got up and you pulled him in for a hug. Surprised by your show of strength, Mingi let out an “oof” as you slammed into him and squeezed his abdomen.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight for a moment before you let go and disappeared into your room.

Unbeknownst to you, he followed your retreating figure with an easy smile and all the fondness in the world for you, and pride for your strength and resilience the past few months.

He made quick work of gathering all the bags and boxes and brought them down to his car. Dialing your ex’s number, he barely waited for the call to connect before he was speaking. “I’ve got all your shit and I’m leaving it in your front yard in the next 30 minutes. After this, you have no connection to y/n. You don’t get the privilege,” Mingi spoke tonelessly.

He heard your ex seethe on the other end of the line. “Fine. You’re an ass, Mingi.”

He chuckled darkly, “I could say way fucking worse about you. Delete y/n’s number. We’re done here.” He ended the call and promptly blocked the number.

Satisfied, Mingi started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot of your apartment.

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, as promised, Mingi unceremoniously dumped everything in the grass outside the house. Sending a middle finger and sarcastic salute at the house, he got back in the car and drove off.

An hour later, you were woken to the sound of your front door closing and the shuffling sound of plastic takeout bags.

You groggily stretched as you heard Mingi making his way around the kitchen to prepare the food for you both.

You shuffled yourself toward the kitchen table to find Mingi setting out a literal feast before you.

“Jeez Min, did you buy out the whole shop or something? There’s just the two of us!”

He chuckled “I wanted you to have all of your favorites and enough for leftovers. I know how much you like to snack late at night.

You pursed your lips at him as he continued pulling containers out. “I hate that you know me so well sometimes.”

He shot you a smug look as you went over to the kitchen to pull out plates, silverware, and glasses for your meal.

You and Mingi enjoyed a comfortable silence during your meal, feeling immense relief that much of the daunting task of confronting your ex’s belongings was almost complete.

“Did you see them when you dropped everything off? Did they say anything to you?”

Mingi chuckled darkly and shrugged. “Nope, the fucker wasn’t home and I just dropped everything on the front lawn. Not my stuff, not my problem.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Well at least it’s out of our hands now. Thank you again for doing that for me.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know I’d do it for you in a heartbeat, just as you’d do the same for me.”

You smiled at each other and continued eating in peace.

———

You and Mingi were seated on the floor around your coffee table with the box in front of you.

“Are you ready?” Mingi asked gently.

Closing your eyes and taking a few steadying deep breaths, you centered yourself before nodding and removing the lid from the box.

Your plan was to thumb through everything as quickly as possible to make sure you weren’t destroying anything actually valuable.

The box contained years worth of photographs, polaroids, notes, tickets, trinkets, and countless memories. It was almost painful to see the container filled to the brim with paper, knowing what it had cost you in the end.

You knew you were better off without your ex, but you were still dealing with the fallout and had to remind yourself that it was okay to grieve.

Sensing your hesitation, Mingi shifted and pulled you over his lap and between his legs, startling you.

“I’m going to be right behind you to help ground you, okay? I won’t let you go.”

You felt your eyes well up and sniffled, leaning back into his chest as he wrapped an arm around your midsection and placed his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Min, this feels nice.”

Having his warm, steady presence behind you made it easier to breathe, knowing you weren’t doing this alone.

With a newfound sense of calm and determination, you began sifting through the box, separating everything into piles you categorized as “trash,” “pawn,” and “burn.”

Mingi didn’t say anything as you worked, just held you and rubbed your sides and shoulders to comfort you and remind you that he was right there.

It ended up taking you about an hour to sort through everything.

Taking a deep breath and placing your hands on the table, you surveyed the piles.

You felt, rather than heard Mingi chuckle behind you, clearly amused at the size of the “burn” pile.

“Mingi, are you a secret pyromaniac?”

He chuckled again. “No, I just think that for situations like this it can be freeing to let everything go with a little fire.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Yes, I’ve burned things for myself but I also helped some friends in college when they went through a similar situation. It made them feel a little better, so I figured it would be beneficial for you as well.”

You hummed, considering his words as he shifted behind you. “Alright then. I think to start we throw the garbage out and then take some of these nicer items to the pawn shop to see what we can get for them. I doubt they gave you anything truly expensive, but some of these things might fetch a few bucks. Then we use the firepit in my backyard to burn the rest. Does that sound alright to you?”

“I think that sounds perfect. Are you free tomorrow?”

He shifted again and pulled out his phone to pull up his calendar. “Looks like I’m open all day. Let’s go for it.”

You turned and smiled at him over your shoulder as he squeezed you around the waist.

Tomorrow, you would be free of your ex for good.

———

When you woke up the next morning, you felt simultaneous looming anxiety and relief over what you and Mingi were going to do today.

Letting go of a significant part of your life was never easy, but you finally felt like you were ready.

You stretched your stiff joints and ambled to the bathroom to start your morning. In the shower, you close your eyes and let the hot water run over you, soothing some of the morning ache and relaxing you further. Showers always have a profound calming effect on you.

After finishing your morning routine, you texted Mingi to let him know you were ready for the day. He showed up at your door about a half hour later with two coffees and a bag of pastries from your favorite cafe in tow.

You smiled brightly as you greeted him, hugging him tightly as he placed everything on the counter. “Are you ready for this? How are you feeling?” Mingi asked from above you in the embrace. You looked up at him, his concerned but soft gaze searching your face for any obvious signs of distress or discomfort.

You gave him an easy smile back, grateful for his presence. “I think I’m good. I feel...well I don’t know how to describe it. But I definitely am ready to get rid of all this extra shit.” You gazed back at the piles of garbage bags from yesterday’s cleaning spree, a pang of grief making itself present, knowing what you were about to do.

You shook it off after a minute, letting yourself feel, but strengthening your resolve that this was the correct choice. You looked back to Mingi and squeezed him a little tighter. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied.

He hummed above you as he replied “Good. Remember, I will be with you every step of the way today.”

Nodding into his chest, you further steeled yourself into action. Finally turning out of his embrace, you made your way over to the garbage bags. You cracked your neck and hands and rolled your shoulders, ready to rid yourself of the phantom of your ex.

Mingi made his way to your side, catching your eye and giving you a nod as he bent to pick up some bags. You nodded back and followed suit, grabbing the remainder and hefting them up off the floor.

Trudging out of your apartment with the bags and Mingi in tow, you made your way down to the parking lot to throw the actual garbage away in the dumpster, saving the burn pile for later.

Mingi hefted his bags into the bin and dusted off his hands. Turning to you, he clocked your emotions again, ready to act if you changed your mind about all this. Seeing nothing but determined steel in your gaze, he grabbed the burn pile and cleared his throat.

“Ready?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and took a centering breath.

“Ready.” You replied with conviction.

Mingi brought the bags to the backseat of his car and opened the passenger door for you to climb in. Settling yourself inside and buckling your seatbelt, you kept your eyes forward, waiting for Mingi to start the engine.

Not wanting to spend time inside your own head, you turned the radio on as Mingi started the car and prepared to head over to his place.

Mingi, noticing your effort to stay present, kept easy conversation at the forefront.

“Do you want to pick up some snacks on the way, or should we scour my pantry?” He asked, eyes focused forward on the road.

“Honestly, I think stopping would be fine. Lord knows what kind of amalgamation of frat boy apartment snacks we’d create out of the bare bones of your pantry,” you joked.

“Hey now, I resent that! I keep my pantry stocked and ready for company!” He retorted.

“Min, bags of mashmallows and the odd can of soup don’t exactly create the most enticing meals,” you chuckled as he pouted.

“Fine, I guess you’ll never know the joys of my culinary prowess,” Mingi sighed.

You laughed, keeping up the conversation as you pulled up to the grocery store for snacks.

“Would it be too gauche to roast marshmallows and hotdogs over the fire?” You pondered.

Mingi let out a loud cackle at the idea. “No, I don’t think so. But if you had a hesitation in doing so, I say we stick with the basic gathering foods. Chips and dip, perhaps charcuterie?”

“Now you sound pretentious. A whole charcuterie spread as we burn photos of my ex. Should we add aperol spritzers to the mix?” You giggled.

“You laugh, but that sounds perfectly lovely for an evening like this,” shrugged Mingi.

“Alright fine, you pick the snacks and I’ll go along with what you decide,” you acquiesce, not particularly caring what you eat, as your appetite had fluctuated throughout the day.

Finally packed back into the car, you and Mingi rode in companionable silence back to his apartment, the radio playing a calming playlist in the background.

As you arrived at Mingi’s, he grabbed all the groceries while you grabbed the bags holding your tainted memories.

Bringing everything around the back to the patio, you settled yourself in one of the Adirondack chairs while Mingi puttered around setting up the snacks.

Once he was confident in his snack spread, he turned to assess your mood.

“How are you feeling?” As asked as he came to kneel in front of you.

“I’m…surprisingly okay I think.” You looked up into his earnest eyes and felt the warmth radiating out of him. You once again felt overwhelmed gratitude at having Mingi in your life.

Reaching out to place your palm on his cheek, you regarded him in a soft voice. “Thank you for doing this with me, it means the world to me to have you in my corner.”

Mingi smiled and leaned into your palm. “Best friends for life, remember? I’ve always got your back just like I know you’ve got mine.”

You smiled and allowed yourself this moment of comfort.

Finally ready, you dropped your hand and nodded up to Mingi. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Mingi nodded in return and set to work starting the fire in the pit.

You watched as he expertly set the kindling in place between the wooden logs, allowing it to catch fire and create a beautiful, warm fire.

Once the fire was going strong, you finally stood up and stared into the embers.

Were you ready for this? Could you bring yourself to place all of these memories into the flames?

Mingi, sensing your hesitation, made his way to your side and placed his large palm on your shoulder, channeling his support into you.

You heard him quietly in your ear. “It’s okay. You can do this. Burn it.”

Feeling the comfort of his warm palm on your skin, you shook off the doubt and hesitation, ready to start this next phase of your life.

You turned to the bags, opening up the first one and grabbing the first photo you saw.

It was a lovely shot of you and your partner standing beneath the beautiful blooms of a cherry blossom tree. An image that once evoked so much happiness and comfort in you now felt hollow.

You allowed yourself to mourn the peace this image once brought you, tracing your hand over the memories of what once was. Then, with a steady hand, you brought the image forward, and slowly lowered it into the flickering flames.

Allowing the picture to catch fire at the ends, the flame slowly licking its way up through the center of the photo, taking with it the image of your ex.

Once the flames reached your visage, you carefully dropped it into the fire, letting it engulf the rest of the photo, erasing it from existence.

You allowed tears to leak from the corner of your eyes, a mixture of sadness and cathartic release taking over your emotions.

Throughout this, Mingi’s hand stayed firmly planted on your shoulder, bolstering you. He knew how hard this was for you, and he was so proud of you for taking this first step.

You leaned back, allowing Mingi’s arms to encircle you as you cried for what once was, for the last time.

After a while, the tears dried up and you and Mingi pulled some chairs closer to the fire so that you could snack while dropping memories into the flames.

You told stories associated with the photos and other mementos, allowing yourself to feel as you dropped each reminder into the fire, watching as each piece of your old relationship turned to ash.

Mingi stayed strong next to you, listening intently and keeping a hold on you in any way that he could, be it holding your hand, touching your arm, or putting an arm around your shoulders, keeping his promise to not leave you alone through this.

Eventually, the snacks ran out and the number of photos in the bags dwindled down to one single image remaining.

It was a candid shot you had taken of your ex, one you had adored and kept close to you at your workstation. You gazed upon the photo, once again allowing yourself to feel and remember, building up the emotion to let it release in a mix of blue and red flames. Ready to let it burn.

Touching the tip of the photo to the fire, you coaxed the flames to consume the last image. Placing it delicately on the wood, you watched as the corners of the photo met in the middle, turning what remained into a pile of embers.

It was done. You were finally free of your ex.

Sitting back, but keeping your eyes on the flames, you felt Mingi embrace you once again.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. You did it. You are free of them, free to live your life on your own terms. I can wait to see you continue to grow from here,” he murmured into the dusk.

You felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude once again. The love you feel for your best friend bursting out of you into a comforting warm glow you always associated with Mingi.

“Thank you Mingi, for everything. Always.”

Resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of a bonfire and the warm embrace of your best friend as he pulled you closer. Opening your eyes, you watched the whispers of memories turn into nothing but a pile of ash and fading embers.

You stayed like this for hours, soaking in the comfort of friendship and embracing the strength derived from overcoming grief.

As you gazed in the dying embers of memories of a life once lived, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace finally settle deep in your bones.

Rising from the ashes of despair, from this day forward, you are reborn anew.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Whispered Vowes Masterlist here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Unprotected Sex, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up

A/N: I finished the epilogue!! I hope everyone that's celebrating Thanksgiving or Friendsgiving has an amazing one!

You walk down the sidewalk with your two best friends flanking each side of you. Today was the THE day! The thought of wedding dress shopping has been eating at you for a week now. You were finally going to have to face your mother for the first time in person since she practically kidnapped you to look at overpriced venues that she could only dream about. You were thankful that Yoongi's mom couldn't be here today. You didn't want her to witness what was sure to be a shit show. You had promised to send her pictures.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want both of them here?” Jisoo asked as the three of you approached the boutique.

“I get inviting your mom but….your sister. I think you have gone nuts,” Lisa says.

“I told you,” you say as you stop walking to look at them. “She and I are fine. Things are getting better.”

It's not a lie. Things have definitely been getting better between you and your sister. While the two of you haven't met up in person since that fateful day in the coffee shop in February, you have talked and texted a lot. It might not be every day, but you do communicate several times a week. It’s mainly mundane topics and wedding talk, but that was perfectly okay with you. This is how you found out that your mother has every intention of buying you her dream wedding dress. That poofy, sparkly princess dress that you absolutely hate. You are pretty sure that someone is going to walk out of the shop today crying, and it's not going to be tears of joy. Will it be you or your mom? You are hoping it's the latter.

You can see your mom and sister standing outside of the wedding dress boutique as the three of you finally get closer to the destination. Lisa throws her long hair up in a ponytail and takes her hoop earrings out before throwing them in her purse that hangs at her side. You throw her a look of confusion, and she shrugs.

“If I have to fight, I need to be ready,” she whispers loudly.

“There will be no fighting,” Jisoo counters. “We are here to support our friend. This is a very special day.”

“I will support her by punching a bitch if I have to,” Lisa hisses.

“Listen,” you say, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I'm really stressed out right now. I really appreciate your willingness to fight, but please, please don't do it today.”

“I make no promises except for that I will try,” she tells you as she rolls her eyes.

“Good enough,” you grumble and continue your walk forward.

As you approach your family, you can see that your mom and sister seem to be in some sort of heated discussion. Your sister has her arms crossed over her chest and is shaking her head vigorously while your mom looks like she is attempting to scold her. Great. You clear your throat, and your sister quickly turns to you, giving you a tight smile.

“Finally,” your mother says, looking at you with a pinched look on her face. “I must say that I'm surprised that I was still invited here after all the trouble you're going through to ignore me.”

“Now is not the time to talk about this,” Jisoo said gently as you bit the inside of your cheek. “Why don't we go into the store and look around some.”

Jisoo takes your moms arm and directs her into the dress shop. Lisa stays near you and glares at your sister, who glares right back at her. You nudge Lisa and point to the door to the boutique. Taking your hint, she huffs and walks past your sister, growling at her as she passes to go into the store.

“She really hates me, doesn't she? " Your sister asks, as she turns her attention away from Lisa.

“She's just protective,” you say in defense of your friend.

“Listen, mom bought you the dress,” your sister tells you. “Mingyu and I overheard her on the phone last night confirming the details when she was over for dinner.”

“What?” You ask with wide eyes.

“Yeah, Mingyu even kicked her out of the house when we confronted her about it. He said she needs to learn to respect our wishes, and if she can't, then she's no longer welcomed in our home. She is pissed at me because I won't back her up,” she says quickly as she shoots a look to the large window you two were standing in front of.

“Holy shit,” you say, looking at the ground as you let her words sink in. “Is that what you were talking about just now?”

“Yeah, she wants me to call off the wedding,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “She always said how he was the perfect man. How he was so good-looking, rich, and how we looked so good together. Now, he stood up to her, and she wants me to get rid of him.”

“You're not…” You start, but she cuts you off.

“NO!” She exclaims. “I'll choose Mingyu over her every day.”

There is a knock on the window of the boutique. You look and see Lisa waving for the two of you to come in. Glancing at your watch, you see it's almost time for your appointment to start.

“We will have to talk about this later,” you tell her, and she nods her head in agreement.

“You ready?” She asks, walking over to the door and opening it for you.

“As I'll ever be,” you respond and walk into the shop.

“No,” you say as you look at the dress that's hanging on a champagne fabric wrapped hanger in your moms hand. You are positive it’s the one that she bought for you.

“You don't even know what it looks like until you try it on,” your mom argues. You look to your friends or sister for help, but they are busy looking through the dresses on the racks spread throughout the room to notice. “Please, just try it on. What harm is it going to do?”

You snatch the hanger, maybe a little too roughly out of her hand, and head to the dressing room to shut her up. You feel shy upon entering the room that was surrounded by mirrors when an attendant accompanies you inside. She takes the dress from you and hangs it from a gold hook on the wall. You quickly undress as she unlaces the back and pulls the zipper down, getting it ready for you to step into. You watch as she expertly lays it out on the floor that you hoped they cleaned before your appointment. You might not like the dress, but you don't want to ruin it. You carefully step into the material barefooted as she gently pulls the dress up your body. You close your eyes and take in how the dress feels heavy on your frame. That wasn't a good sign, and you can't bring yourself to look in the mirror. You know that you probably look ridiculous.

“You can look,” she says gently after she finishes zipping you up. “It's a little big on you. We would have to take it in some.”

One…two…three. You open your eyes, and you stare at yourself expressionless in the mirror as soon as you see the reflection of yourself. You look like an abominable snowman, a marshmallow, a cotton ball. The dress was stark white with layers upon layers of tulle in the skirt that made you feel like you were being swallowed up by the fine netting. The bodice was covered in probably hundreds of iridescent beads that were scraping your inner arm, irritating it. They were accompanied by a plunging sweetheart neckline, showing off way more skin than you would like for your wedding day. Especially in front of Yoongi's family. You hated it. You knew you would.

“We have plenty of other silhouettes that you can try on,” your attendant tells you as she takes in the look of disgust on your face. “Brides go through so many dresses before they find the one of their dreams. It's okay to not like this one.”

“I have to show my mom,” you tell her. “This is the dress of her dreams.”

“What about your dreams?” she asked, smiling sadly at you almost like she understood what you were going through. You wonder how many brides come through here trying on dresses to make others happy. You hope it's not many.

You shrug and give her a small smile in return. Leaving the room, you go back out onto the floor and stand in front of a set of cream colored couches where everyone sat. Your mom lights up as she looks at you being swallowed by all the tulle. Her hands pressed against her chest as she beams at you. Of course, your pageant mother loves the over the top dress. Jisoo's face is cringing, and she's trying to hide behind her phone, Lisa is literally straight up pointing at you as she silently laughs, and your sister is subtly shaking her head no at you.

“Turn, turn,” your mom says, as she pulls out her phone to begin snapping pictures. “I told you. It looks perfect on you. Do you have a tiara? She needs a veil, preferably with a long dramatic train. ”

“I don't want a tiara,” you grumble, but your mother brushed you off with a wave of her hand.

“How about we try something else,” your sister says, interrupting your mother as she walks over to you and hands you another dress. This one, thankfully, seems like it had much less material.

You cautiously take the dress from her and head back inside the dressing room while lifting the skirt of the dress so you don't trip. You carefully take the heavy dress off once the door closes with help, and you try on the next dress without really looking at it. The attendant makes a noise of surprise as she buttons you into it. She steps away and smiles at your reflection in the mirror.

“It fits perfectly. It doesn't even need to be altered. Go ahead and take a look,” she said encouragingly.

You turn with a deep breath and slowly open your eyes to look in the mirror. She was right. It fit perfectly against your body and hugged you like a glove. The vintage sleeveless, lace mermaid dress flowed beautifully as it hugged every curve of your body. The off-white color seemed to be much more flattering compared to the stark white marshmallow, making it seem much more elegant and simple. It made you feel beautiful. It was perfect.

You turn and glance at the back of the dress before doing a small circle, trying to see every view of the dress. You loved it. You absolutely loved it. Damn it, you can feel yourself start to cry. You understand now why women always cry on those dress shows on tv. You can actually envision yourself walking down the aisle to Yoongi in this dress. It felt magical. It felt right.

“I think this is the one,” she said, handing you a tissue so you can dab at your tears. “Like it was meant to be.”

Wiping your eyes, you take a deep breath and go out to the floor once again. You take one look at your best friends and the damn breaks. Tears start falling rapidly now, and you can hardly keep up with catching the droplets.

“Oh, sweets,” Lisa said, crying along with you.

“It's so beautiful on you,” Jisoo said over Lisa’s whaling as she took several pictures of you.

“A perfect fit,” your sister said softly, smiling at you.

You are able to calm yourself after a minute and turn some circles for them. Your hands run over the floral lace fabric as you once again look in a mirror off to the side in the main room. You don't want to look at your mom. You can imagine what her expression is. It's probably an angry, sour expression. You have to quickly remind yourself that this is not about her. You are not going to let her take this moment from you.

Your attendant approaches you again. Reaching up, she clips a veil in your hair and lays the train out flat behind you. Lisa cries louder, and Jisoo shushes her as she lightly pats her on the back. You finally look at your mom, and she's quietly staring at you. You think her eyes look glassy. This is it. You know it is. This is the one.

“I'll take it,” you say with a smile as you look at the attendant. “I don't need to see anymore. This is the one.”

Leaving the store, you button up your jacket with Lisa and Jisoo right next to you, the latter holding your dress. Your mom and sister leave last, but your mother comes around and stands in front of you, stopping you from being able to walk away from her.

“Umm,” Jisoo said and looked at you. “I'll get this home. Don't worry, I'll keep it safe.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and hug her goodbye.

“Do you want me to stay?” Lisa asks you but stares directly at your mom. “I have all day.”

“You know what, Lisa,” your sister says, and Lisa's eyes snap to her. “Why don't you and I grab a coffee. My treat.” Lisa's sharp eyes turn to you, and you nod your head, yes, encouraging her.

“Fine, only because you are paying,” Lisa sniffed and squeezed your hand in departure.

You sigh as you watch them walk away. You didn’t want to be alone with your mother, but you can't stand the stress of avoiding her anymore. It's been getting to you more than you want to admit.

“I must say,” your mom said, nodding her head. “You looked beautiful.”

“Really?” You asked shocked, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I still like the first dress better, but you looked…happy. I think it's the first time I've seen you happy in a while. Our last interaction…you seemed…angry. Even right now. You seem so tired.”

“Mom,” you sigh and dig your hands in your pocket. “It's wedding planning….it's stressful.”

“He should have been there looking at venues with you and not me,” she tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes.

“It's not like you gave us a chance to do it on our own,” you argue.

“Has he helped at all?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“He's helping the best he can,” you defend him. “He's just busy right now. His job is important.”

“So, that's a no,” she sighs and shakes her head. “You're so young, Y/N. I know Yoongi is handsome, talented, and rich, but that will only get you so far. I want you to be sure about this. Divorce isn't fun. Are you sure he is the one?”

“Mom,” you say, rolling your shoulders trying to ease the tension. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I'll be fine. Yoongi, he loves me, and I love him. Even if he weren't talented and rich, I would still love him, and I would still marry him.”

“What happens when you have children? Will he be there then, or will work still be more important? You don't know what it's like to take care of two sick children at the same time…alone….no help because I do,” your mother argues. “I don't want that for you. Your dad was like him. Always busy, never enough time for the family, and always running to his office as soon as things got hard.”

“Yoongi won't do that to me,” you argue back. “He's not going anywhere. Mingyu isn't going anywhere. Stop trying to control us before you lose us for good.”

With that, you walk away before she could say anything else. You didn't need her to try and plant any more seeds of doubt in your head. Yoongi was not your father. He knew exactly how you grew up and was sure he would do better for your future children. He would show them love and shower them with attention. Right? You're positive he will. He will show them unwavering support and their number one cheerleader. Right? Yes, of course he will. Hopefully.

You lie on the couch, scrolling through your phone later the same day looking at shoes to match your wedding dress. You have plenty of heels, but none are off white in color. A part of you wonders if you can get away with going barefoot. You wanted to take the option of comfort over stylish. The dress is long and would definitely cover your feet, but you are sure the winery probably would not allow it due to health codes. Flats? Possibly, probably the best option.

The front door swings open suddenly, startling you, and Yoongi quickly comes into the apartment. The door slams shut behind him, and he's on top of you before you can even fully react to him being home. You look at him with a startled expression, which he kisses off your face.

“What's going on?” You ask as you lay frozen underneath him.

“I have good news and better news,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “Which one do you want first?”

“Good news,” you say warily.

“One, Jimin is my best man so that way he can walk with Lisa down the aisle. Hobi and Jin are fighting over the second spot. It will get figured out before our tux fitting. Which….I made the appointment today. Two, I also made an appointment at the jewelers downtown to find our wedding bands next week. Three, I started planning our honeymoon,” he explains and gives you a big kiss on the mouth.

“What's the better news,” you ask as you push him away with a smile.

“Oh, we finished the album,” he said casually.

You gasp and launch your body up off the couch. You wrap your arms around his neck, effectively knocking the two of you off the couch and onto the floor. He lands first with you, landing right on top of him. You might have hurt your knee upon landing, but it will be fine.

“Done! Like completely done?” You ask, looking down at him.

“Well, like 98 percent done,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “ Do you remember the two men from Darling Media that you met?” he asks, and you nod your head, yes. “We have a meeting with them next week to work out a contract for promotional stuff. Then, that's it. It's done.”

“That's amazing,” you say and slide off him, sitting on the floor.

“You don't seem happy. What's wrong?” he asks, coming to sit next to you.

“I'm really happy,” you tell him. “It's just I know that you will probably have another album to work on right after, and we will be right back in the same place.”

“I promised you that I would try harder to make time for you….for us,” he said, lightly grabbing your face and making you look at him. “Jungkook has been doing amazingly well. He will be able to shoulder a lot more responsibility. Also, we are in talks to hire another producer. Things are going to get better.”

“Does that mean you are going to be home tonight?” You ask him and stare down at your hands. Yoongi tilts your chin up and kisses you firmly on the mouth.

“I’m going to take a super quick shower and change,” Yoongi informs you. “I have to go back in to finalize some things, but I WILL be home tonight.” You nod your head and give him a small smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him.

You get back on the couch as Yoongi heads for the shower. Lying back down, you smile to yourself. You felt as though a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, knowing that he had taken some initiative with the wedding. You haven't even had time to think about the honeymoon, but he has. It makes you feel giddy thinking about where you were going to go. Knowing him, it's probably going to be somewhere private with very few people around. That was perfectly fine with you. You just wanted to be with him, whether it be somewhere tropical or holed up in your apartment.

You hear Yoongi exit the bathroom after a few minutes of being lost in your thoughts, and you turn back to the endless pages of shoes on your phone. Would lace flats be too much? Maybe they should be a solid color instead. You chew on your bottom lip, and you go to the next page on the website.

“Baby,” Yoongi calls out from the bedroom. “What is this box in the closet?”

Box? What is he talking about? Your eyes suddenly widen in realization and sprint off the couch and make your way to the bedroom as quickly as you can. You see Yoongi unlatching the black latches on the damn red chest holding the unmentionable items and opening the lid.

“No,” you squeak out and jump on his back, but it is too late.

“Baaabyyy,” he said in awe as his eyes took in Lisa's gifts. “Holy shit is that a tentacle?” He grabs that pink and purple textured object, staring at you, mouth completely agape. He picks up the black leather cuffs next and smirks at you before moving them to the side. He reaches in further to pick up a small box that you didn't see before. Yoongi opens it and makes a choking sound as he pulls out a chain with something dangling off the ends. “Baby,” he said breathlessly.

“I don't even know what that is,” you say, hiding your face. “I didn't buy any of this.”

“I will send Lisa a thank you card,” Yoongi said as he held the chain in front of your face, and his eyes flicker to your chest as he licks his lips. “They’re nipple clamps.” You gasp and cover your chest with your hands. Your face turns beet red.

“Put them back,” you squeak.

“Why are you embarrassed?” he asks. “We are going to be married. It's good to be open about these things. I know I enjoyed playing around last time.”

“You did?” you ask in a small quiet voice.

“Yeah,” he assured you. “If it makes you uncomfortable, then we don't use anything. If you want to experiment, then I will fully support you.”

You smack him lightly on the chest. He just chuckles and places the clamps back in their case and closes the lid. He doesn't, however, put them back in the chest that was once hidden. You lift an eyebrow at him, and he gets up and places them on his bedside table.

“Just in case,” he says with a smirk.

You take a deep breath and slowly release it as you watch him get dressed. You felt like you could finally breathe. It wasn't a breath riddle with anxiety and worry. It was smooth and easy. You just hope that it stays that way.

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97 , @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld , @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia, @busanbby-jjk

[eden-writes-stuff]

Hi! Would you be willing to write some rosekiller angst? Some hurt/comfort goes a long way :-)

tags: angst, torture, death eater rosekiller wordcount: 623

Evan wasn't even crying anymore. His body was almost numb from all the pain he'd been put through over the last hour. His throat was sore from all the screaming. And all that because he hadn't killed a child.

Eventually, they just left him lying on the cold floor, unable to move.

Barty made sure everyone was gone, before he snuck through the black doors, cowering next to Evan.

"Rosie? Baby?" He gently lifted him up into his lap, stroking his hair. The boy looked pale, exhausted. Barty hated them for hurting him. His lovely, brilliant, weird, beautiful Evan. Evan, who knew how to heal, unlike Barty. The bigger problem was, that Barty didn't even know what spell he would use in this situation. It wasn't like there was anything exactly wrong with him. Evan hadn't broken a bone or dislocated a shoulder, he'd just experienced a lot of pain.

He needed to get him help. Regulus would know what to do. He always knew what to do, he was always in control. Barty placed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's forehead, before carrying him through the manor. It was the kind of house that was so dark it seemed to swallow all the light and with it the joy. Just like his old home.

Halfway up the stairs, Evan began shaking in his arms. "It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll get you help", he whispered, holding him closer.

They both shared a room with Regulus, which had made things around here slightly more bearable. "Put him on his bed", the youngest Black instructed as he saw them walking in, placing his book aside and gabbing his wand.

"They took turns on him for an hour. I don't know what to do", Barty explained, voice not as steady as he would have liked. "I know, I heard him...." He swallowed, before sitting next to Evan on the bed. 

For the next 20 minutes, Barty paced through the room, trying to help Regulus as much as he could. Then he waited.

Evan had stopped shaking and wasn't as pale as before, but it took him a while before he woke up again.

"Rosie... Are you okay? How do you feel?", he asked, softly taking his hand. "Feel like shit." His voice was rasp and barely audible, but he was back. Half-open eyes, a weak grasp, but he was back. And he was alive. 

Barty gave him a glass of water, which Evan emptied in one go. With a quiet sigh, Barty lay down next to him, face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I was scared", he admitted after a while. "I thought I would lose you." "I was scared too", Evan whispered. "But I really didn't want to kill this kid. And it's pretty fucked up that they make us." "It is. But it's not worth you being tortured like this." "Yeah... Maybe." Evan sighed, pulling Barty closer to him.

He liked being alive. He liked a lot of things about it. Being with Barty, feeling the sun on his face, good food, all kinds of bugs and spiders, flower fields, his sister, spending time with his friends... But life like this... Spending most of his time in this dark, cold house, going out mostly at night, and when they went out it was to kill people. Time with his friends and with Barty had also become very thin because most of them were always busy and Pandora refused to talk to him.

"Bee?" "Hm?" He sounded like he was half asleep. "If I wanted to leave... would you come with me?" Barty looked up at him, but before he could answer, there was a loud banging at the door.

"Crouch. We need you for a mission. Now."

[eatmeeraw]

never tell anyone anything ever. never tell anyone anything again.

Escapism.

summary: you’re in her friend group. you two have been close for months and you slowly fell in love with her more and more. you suspected the feeling was mutual because of how attached she was, how she behaved like you two were together, until tara began detaching and avoiding you, not showing up for you nor your friends anymore…

category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

warnings: swearing, idk if my writing is good sorry if it disgusts you, avoidant attachment everywhere, venting, alcohol usage, smoking, dissociation (r doubts she’s alive). portrayals might not be 100% canon. might not be completely proofread. there are mentions of tara’s trauma with amber and some behaviors she has because of it.

word count: 4,9k.

A/N: first fanfic, kinda nervous. i hope everything is okay and some people are going to like this. ethan and quinn aren’t ghostfaces in here, but the group knows they’re siblings, anika isn’t dead, and they’re all still in the friendgroup with the core four. ghostface isn’t present. tara is a bit of a emo who actually lags and denies everytime she feels emotions here. Error 404 kinda thing, but as the fanfic continues she gets better.

you are settled on the couch, your body sinking into the soft, cold, and miraculously still clean cushions, their fabric feels good against your skin, making your muscles relax. you could hear the voices of other people overlapping each other furiously, and smell the scent of alcohol, coca-cola and tobacco mix in the air.

you inhale just because you need to, you didn’t appreciate such strong smells, but you could handle it. you always handled it.

the room is large, but not too overcrowded, making the party feel a little bit less dangerous.

groups of friends are chatting around you, some people are dancing, you could catch some of the guests kissing or directly, shamelessly, making out, the sounds of their lips meeting, their spit, and everything else almost makes you nauseous.

the dim and warm hues of the lights are hitting you and the others, and the music in the background isn’t too loud, but loud enough to set the atmosphere and make people move to the rhythm of the sweet, animated music.

you luckily aren’t alone: sam, chad, mindy, quinn and anika were around you, on the couches, making short and light conversations. not everyone in the group was in the mood for partying, like sam, who was blankly looking at the ceiling, jaw clenching sometimes. you can see especially chad go around and try to flirt with some people, entertaining himself after the disappointment he had with tara. unrequited love always hurts, and you know it all too well. he isn’t the only one disappointed.

mindy and anika are creating the conversations mostly, quinn following them and playing their game every time, ethan, instead, her brother, is extremely silent, looking around like a lost puppy who couldn’t understand how to have fun. he always has been so weirdly shy.

you are lost in your thoughts, until anika talks again. « oh! have y’all seen tara? sam, any news? » before tara’s older sister could talk, chad opened his mouth. « she didn’t even show up tonight…weird. » « yeah, she hasn’t been around lately. didn’t even text back these days. i sent her a message about tonight’s party and she left me on seen…rude » mindy explains, looking at the ground, crossing her arms. you can hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

« i mean, she has been through a lot- » ethan talks, surprisingly, but his sister interrupts him. « it’s not like her to disappear like that, but…i dunno. » she shrugs, now fidgeting with her fingers, suddenly serious again.

you drown in your bitter thoughts again, as you hear the others talk. their sentences a echo in the room of your fears and your indescribable confusion, making you feel slightly hazy even though no alcohol is flowing in your veins.

« y/n? » quinn calls for you, but you don’t reply, completely zoned out. « y/n… » another time, and this time you look at her, frowning as to invite her to go ahead and say what she needs to say. « when was the last time she replied to you? » she asks, and you grab your phone to check the chat. you scroll up, because ten or more messages were sent by you during those days where she fully disappeared. a worried you. a worried you that was still there, lingering, being the skeleton of your essence. « two weeks ago. »

and the question was asked to everyone else in the friend group: they all hadn’t heard from her since a week ago. they stare at you, and your breath hitches in annoyance and paranoia, as you are the center of the worst type of attention possible. you were sure it was your fault, you probably said something that made her get icky and disgusted, like always. you softly tremble in your seat as they discuss how, maybe, something was going on with you, and then sam talks, interrupting the endless, useless gossip that was gravitating in the air.

« can i talk, now? » she asks, crossing her arms tightly on her chest, head tilting slightly. ethan nods, and she continues her sentence. « she’s okay, just stressed. she’ll return. » her posture was tensed, her jaw just persistently clenched every time she’d close her mouth. you knew something was up, you knew she knew. anika sighs, and everyone nods, except you.

as the context of the conversation shifts, making the previous calmness of your friends come back, you stay there, you remain where everyone was investigating heavily on the girl you always loved.

you just felt the urge to cry: she’s so dear to you, the love you feel is like an eternal explosion, butterflies rising and falling inside your stomach, a soft hand grasping your heart: her hand. when you first started liking her, everything was smooth, like an oiled surface. the feelings were unspoken, no kiss was given, but, oh, how her eyes would sparkle every time you entered the room, every time you joined a conversation, every time you simply passed by.

her cheeks flushed, her softness being between your hands, she was malleable and weak for how much she seemed to care about you but you loved her the way she was. her hands loved to be in your hair, or on your cheeks, her fingers would perfectly interlock with yours, and her arms found comfort encircling your waist or neck.

but, still, at some point, she chose to act like you were dead, like right now.

are you dead? you aren’t sure, you can bet that your heart is beating still. you try to re-focus on your friends, whom you hear giggling in the background, giving one another the entertainment they needed in a similar party.

« so…what’s up with that guy you fucked, quinn? » mindy teases, giggling afterward, making the others gasp. quinn squints her eyes, you see it as a little detail that you actually appreciated about her. but, god, if she, sometimes, was annoying. especially when you were in tara’s apartment and you could hear continuous moans in the background while you were trying to have a normal conversation with tara, or with sam.

« huh, we text here and there…he’s fine, i guess. » she shrugs, like nothing was important, like he was just a passenger, someone that existed in her space just to satisfy her stupid needs once, and then disappeared. « no second date? you’re slippin’, quinn » chad jokes, raising an eyebrow, a hint of startle on his face. sam, instead, wasn’t surprised at all. « no. i’d say i prefer variety. »

« what a shame, anika and i were searching for a couple to go to a double date with. » mindy affirmed, anika nodded in agreement, a little pout painted on her face.

you think about how sweet it would be, to go on their double date bringing tara with you. maybe you would end up in a lousy fast food, or maybe an elegant, cozy restaurant with all her favorite dishes. you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked around. you gazed at sam again, she was lazily scrolling through her phone, always serious and tensed up.

you get closer to her, whispering, as everyone else is distracted. « …did i do something? ». tara’s older sister looks up at you, and you see her turning off her phone as she pushes the tip of her tongue against the inside of her cheek. she takes a deep breath before replying. « no, she’s just…complicated. » she looks around almost as if she could be there, secretly listening to your conversation. « it’s not just you. give her space. »

you stare around, still disoriented, if not more than before. you decide to get up and walk towards the table that holds bottles of beer, pouring yourself a cup and tasting the bold, cold bitterness while it fills your mouth and goes down your throat, bringing you relief. you drink a little bit more before everything gets destroyed by something that you didn’t exactly expect.

you see tara, the friend group slowly walking closer to her, and you do the same thing, still holding the plastic cup, now as warm as your palm.

« hey, you made it. » her sister awkwardly says, waving a hand, and tara would just softly nod and wave her hand back. « WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? » mindy screams and tara giggles, the nervousness was clear, she was avoiding eye contact with every single person in front of her like it would be a potential danger, like it would make the plague come for her body and soul. « we thought you went full hermit mode, dude. »

« i…didn’t think so many people would come. » tara murmured, looking down. felt off, like a withered rose, a rotten fruit, a bleeding pomegranate. tara looks at you, a strange spark in her eyes. you glance at her back, hesitantly, and you feel like death isn’t so bad, suddenly. you are hoping someone would show their guns and threaten everyone to have no mercy upon them in that exact moment. but no one saves you, saviors don’t exist, you remind yourself.

« hi. » she murmurs, forcing a smile.

« hi. » you reply, showing the palm of your free hand, waving it slowly, just a lazy move. she nods and goes away, showing a lack of interest in any sort of interaction between her and the group. they remain skeptical, and you just walk away again, gulping down every single drop of the drink you had in your cup.

a hour passes. you spend it by secretly glancing at tara, or at least trying to, since every time you would set your eyes on her, she would catch the opportunity to make creepy, long-lasting eye contact with you. you hate it, you hate it because you blush, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed by the slight, useless attention she gives you with so much nonchalance. after this, she is surely not going to talk to you again, you think.

the lights that once made you comfortable inside a house you barely knew the owner of, now make you irrevocably disturbed. too intense, too blinding, they would get in the way as you tried to understand what tara was doing, but it actually wasn’t much: talking to sam, looking around, scrolling on the phone, and grabbing drinks.

nothing to see. but everything to think about: many questions would torture your mind, and make your soul beg to leave your body at once. but what did you do? what made tara so distant? is it actually you that is the problem?

you stare at her again. this time, she was talking with mindy and anika, her expression cold, blank, like emotions were nothing to her but ants she could step on and kill with no hesitancy. she shook her head at them, and then looked behind them, at you. her big, brownish eyes scan you, her lips are slightly parted and her expression always neutral, but somewhat altered by something else, looking almost dubious or...scared?

you are the one that breaks eye contact, grabbing a pack of cigarettes that was hidden in the pocket of your jeans, going out of the party, not talking to anyone anymore. you feel too dizzy, too bothered, to even function properly, to even talk to someone without crumbling in a million pieces. you feel almost miserable, too. you have been desperately chasing something that, clearly, wasn’t meant for you.

she doesn’t love you, does she? your gaze hardens as you light up a cigarette with your lighter, looking at the emptiness of the dark night sky, the stars are barely visible and it was saddening. maybe you are like that to tara, too: barely visible, and not worth squinting her eyes for.

you are just a fainting star for her and it destroys you. when are people going to figure out you exist? you breathe, you are alive, are you not? are you dead?

you put your free hand on your chest, searching, looking desperately for the beat of your heart. as you find it you exhale loudly, and your hand becomes a clenched fist.

you feel it, why doesn’t anyone else feel it, too? you grab with force your cell phone from your pocket, scrolling through your new notifications fast, not even glancing at them with great attention. chad asked where you were, mindy called you. it meant nothing. you opened tara’s chat, scrolling up, gazing at the messages you two would send each other.

you smile bitterly, as the phone lights up your face, which was wholly taken by nostalgia.

a month ago

tara 💗: can u come over rn??

you: i don’t know, are quinn and sam around?

tara 💗: no

tara 💗: please? we needa watch the movie we talked about :)

you: alrrrr, coming

memories flash in front of your eyes, her apartment and the sweet scent of hers, the popcorns, her adorable giggles that would give you a reason to exist. you inhale deeply, your lips wrapped around the cigarette, and you almost choke on it as you hear tara’s voice.

« throw that cigarette. » direct, almost mocking, and you don’t look her way, avoiding to even acknowledge the fact she is talking to you. really a coward thing to do. you exhale the smoke, and you watch it get lost in the fresh air of the night.

as you get the cigarette’s orangish butt close to your lips, you feel a hand blocking your wrist, the other grabbing the cigarette by the white casing wrapping around the burning tobacco. you watch the youngest carpenter hurl the item on the ground, putting it out by smashing the heel of her shoe against it with great force, looking at you.

« what the fuck? » you mutter, your cheeks slightly red. is it the alcohol or her presence making you react like that? her cologne was slowly dominating the scent that the cigarette was producing, filling your nostrils, your lungs. you would exhale with great hesitation, aching for the perfume you missed for days.

you, in a rush, turn off the phone, putting it inside your pocket again. your chest feels heavy, your breathing is irregular and you can’t grasp again the control you had before checking the past messages.

« smoking is bad. » tara hisses, and you raise you eyebrows, skeptical by the reaction she has. impressed also by how smoothly she came, how you didn’t notice for not even a moment someone was lurking. you reply, your voice cracking mid-sentence, making you melt in shame: « also alcohol is bad, but i saw you drink with no shame tonight. »

« you did, too. » « so if i smash my head against the wall you’re gonna do it too? »

silence.

you take a deep breath, avoiding watching her in the eyes, you just can’t. confusion is even more marked now, and you bite your lower lip trying to take some of the frustration out of you, but it lingers still, it haunts you totally.

you feel played, like a light that gets continuously turned on and off. now she shows she cares, turning on that light, but those two weeks when the light was off? what did they mean? you can ask her, you have her right in front of you, and the alcohol, somehow, makes you bold, a brave girl confronting the cause of her fears.

« why did you disappear? why was i the first you ran away from? » you question with a shaky voice, and you see her expressionless face falter, turning into something more confusing. is the spark in her eye sadness, or something else?

silence, again. for a few moments, she just watches, as if she didn’t have a voice, as if she was trying to communicate everything telepathically to you.

then, she talks.

you see her hesitate, remain with her lips parted longer than needed, and you wonder what was she trying to cover. « why do you care? i’m here now, so. » she hints a giggle, you know tara is actively trying to ease the tension, somehow. but she’s failing, because your expression hardens more, your eyebrows furrow. « are you serious? » you almost bark.

you slowly feel the anger knock at the door of your throat, wanting to come out. still, you bottled up. still, you swallowed down the loath. you force your gaze to soften. « why do i care? how do you- shit »

you take a step ahead, turning slightly towards the nothingness that is seated beside you and making your shoulders face her for a brief moment. you cover your mouth, taking a deep breath against your palm.

« you think it’s that simple? you think it’s easy to see you walk away without saying anything? you’re my friend, i thought some bad shit happened to you. » you laugh nervously, you see guilt in her eyes as you glance at her, but also…disappointment. like she expected something more.

« fuck, i even talked to sam. you know how awkward it is. » you try to change the context of the conversation as you feel a part of you beg to let the fear out, all the worries she caused, all the paranoia you felt that kept you awake at night. the insomnia, the poignant thoughts that would keep you alarmed.

tara laughs, but it sounds fake, programmed. she slowly turns serious as she sees you not even hinting a smile. « i’m sorry, okay? i just needed space. » she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, almost painfully torturing it. you can see the regret showing, but being denied by tara herself.

« for what? what did i even do? » « nothing. » you huff, befuddled by her ways, she is making you feel like you are in an unlimited limbo. you completely lose it. some tears prick your eyes, you gaze at her almost like you wanted her dead.

« you know what? fine. » you bark, and you walk away with hasty steps, the silence from her was the strongest, most hurtful sound you could feel at this moment. the only thing covering it were your heels striking furiously the ground, until you stop.

your walk gets interrupted by a hand grabbing and squeezing your shoulder, and tara is panting. maybe you walked too rapidly, until now. you gaze at her, surprised and still confused, a tesr goes down your visage. your head is clouded, the alcohol you have inside your body isn’t helping at all.

« okay, i’ll- i’ll tell you. » she says, quietly, taking a deep breath in. you frown, her hand lingers, not letting you go, going down until it reaches your forearm, the grip tightening again, fearing you’d escape, exactly like she did. « i was…scared. » « of what? »

she freezes, looking down at the asphalt beneath your feet, tapping on your shoulder obsessively, reflecting, opening her mouth before closing it again.

a sigh. « i-i mean, you started treating me so w-well and i got- it was so- i didn’t…» « sorry, i won’t do it again. » you shrug, and she squeezes your arm painfully tight. your breath hitches, and as she notices, she lets your arm go. « it’s not what i meant. i…» she swallows hard, putting a hand on her forehead.

« it’s that after what happened…» she stops, putting her hands behind her back. oh, you know it all too well. sam talked to you about it when she felt like you were close enough to them to deserve to know, more as a warning than a demonstration of closeness

she continues: « with…amber. i can’t risk again. » she hesitates before saying her name, almost as if her name was a forbidden word, a spell, a death sentence. it held weight, but she acted like she would show up if she said her name too many times. and the umpteenth confirmation is in front of you: she looks around, looking at the empty streets, checking to see if someone is watching. if amber is watching. « but i’m not amber, tara. » you remind her, crossing your arms.

« i know, but i’m scared. y-you’re so nice and she was too- you know, you know what she was doing to me while she was b-being nice. » she says one word after the other furiously, her voice shaky and unstable, cracking, and she says everything so slowly because sobs would interrupt every word in her sentence, obstacles full of emotions.

you notice tears going down her cheeks, and it makes you wonder when she started crying. you move your hands slightly, nervously, trying to not listen to the urge you have: cup her cheeks, wipe her tears. you just couldn’t, you feel like it would be too much.

« but i don’t want anyone else to hurt you » tara barely nods, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt again, her head tilted. « that’s exactly what amber used to tell me. »

you sigh, having no idea of what to do now, what to say. the young girl saves you, just by declaring something else. « besides…if you don’t kill, y-you’ll get killed. being close to me is a death sentence, really. »

« don’t say that. » you murmur, shaking your head, a shiver of pity runs through you like thunder. you hate seeing her that way. her voice is still there, but unstable. « the next one could kill you. i don’t want you to d-die. » she almost screams, holding up a hand to her neck, like she was choking on her tears. she cries, and she isn’t even able to interrupt her grief, her pointless grief that looks at the future with a negative eye. « who said there’s going to be a next one? » you ask, almost rhetorically, like it was sure the murders ended in woodsboro, and that would dare hunting down tara and sam another time.

not in my story, you think. not when there’s me. you would protect her, no matter what, and at the first suspicious murder happening close to her, you already know you would make whoever wanted to get in the way disappear, in one way or another. but you didn’t know the gravity of the situation, you never were a victim of the attacks, you have no idea how smart a ghostface killer has to be.

tara remains silent again, her silence, every time she would use it, was as bothering as a loud, earth-breaking storm.

she just sobs, and trembles, and you can’t hold back anymore. you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in a hug that you both needed, so much, and you get it, you do, because she wraps her arms around you like her life depends on it.

« it’s okay. » your lullaby of consolation makes her nod, breathing deeply between her sniffs. she tightens her grip, and you only desire to feel all of her attached to you, every limb touching yours. you feel content at the affection, but you want more, her lips looked perfect, smooth, and soft. you wondered how they would taste.

but you couldn’t fuck around and find out, not now. « i know you’re scared, but i’ll be here, okay? we’ll be fine, no matter what. just…please. please don’t run away from me again…i…i missed you, so much. » you whisper, your voice is a restless plead, and you almost break down between her arms.

« i missed you too. » « but…i’m confused, » you finally confess. she looks at you, waiting patiently for you to add context, something that can help her understand what struggle you had. you notice how she calmed down, how she doesn’t sob anymore, how very few tears would fall, compared to how much she was crying before. she looks clueless, and it made your sentence stop for a little more time than how much you programmed. is it just you who wants more?

« the days we spent together…what do they mean to you? » and the question takes a few moments to be answered, as her grip tightens around you, her eyes gazing at you rather than the emptiness of the place. strangely, no one is there, you two can hear the music of the partying flat even out of it, and it relaxes you more because you aren’t alone, you can say you need to go if you want to, if it gets too much even for you.

you wait still, and she sighs. « they’re special, obviously. » « but tara, there’s more. » you notice that as you speak and breath, cold whiteish air goes out of your mouth, losing itself in the space in front of you. is it really that cold?

« i don’t know what you mean. » she shakes her head, and you take a step back. her cheeks are flushed, her body is stiff and as she doesn’t have anything else to grab, her hands clasp roughly.

you falter, shaking your head softly. « it’s nothing. maybe i should head out, y’know, maybe mindy is still waiting f— » « no, wait. » her hands open, she shows her palms, and huffs. « i want to understand. how come there’s more? i don’t even know what that means. »

« you get incredibly close for weeks, you kiss my face, you hug me and struggle to let go, you treat me with…weird sweetness that i have never seen before, especially from you. you suddenly disappear because you’re scared that i’ll end up copying amber, then…you say that those moments are just special. that’s a meaningless reply to me— do you even care? » you vent, a hint of anger mixed with palpable confusion, and the words go out of your mouth faster than you wanted them to.

she widens slightly her eyes, raising her eyebrows. and you know she still isn’t understanding from what place you’re coming from, or maybe she understands? how confusing she is.

« what kind of question is that? i care »

you decide to go all in, your patience wearing thin, as thin as a blade of grass. « then why do you act like you’re in love with me? » you giggle nervously, maybe looking crazy in front of her eyes, maybe looking desperate. she locks eyes with you, and you go ahead and take steps towards the building, fearing her reply, fearing that everything you know is false.

« because i am, y/n » you hear her say from behind, and you turn around, frowning. you are suspecting that what you heard isn’t actually what she is trying to say, and somehow, even if you didn’t say anything, she gets it. « i said i am. »

« how did you— » « you always make that face when you’re lost. » she laughs, getting closer, and that phrase makes you hint a smile. she cups your face with her cold hands, and it makes you shiver, but somehow it feels emotionally warm. a blanket over your heart.

« so what do you think? » she whispers those words, her voice cracking with fear. you feel your cheeks gradually getting hotter and hotter, redder and redder. « i think that…i’m in love with you, too. »

you stop, and her gaze softens. yours does too. « i love you, tara. a lot. i thought you were disgusted by me or…you didn’t want me around anymore. but god, i’m so in love. » you calmly declare, her fingers brush against your cheeks softly, with tenderness.

« i could never be disgusted or change my mind about you, you’re pretty dumb. »

giggles echo in the air, and she leans in, her breaths quiver at the intimate closeness you both have now. everything fades out, and you both look at each other in need, in need for the physical contact you both are craving. she scans your face as your breaths intertwine, and then her lips found yours, after months of research.

it’s perfect, you kiss back without even thinking about it, like you were born for this: to kiss her, to have her with you. you cup one of her cheeks with your shaky palm, the touch is soft and warm, and her lips are too. no anger is held in the kiss, only the affection you both feel, gentle in its essence. your heart stumbles in its rhythm, and you fear that she can hear it beating erratically too.

she breaks the kiss hesitantly, and you don’t know how long the kiss lasted — seconds? minutes? — but it just made you even more infatuated with her. her forehead rests against yours, her brownish hues shining with satisfaction, her lips curled up in a soft smile. you can still feel those lips against yours, or maybe you simply want them to be there again.

but you’re fine, you finally are. there are things you both need to work on, but you know that, until you’ll have her, you’ll be content and wanting to be better.

« i promise i will take care of you. » you whisper, you can’t help but smile, showing your teeth.

« i will take care of you, too. »

[queenjunothegreat]

Okay!!!! After a couple days off, I'm back!! This time with more angst, and I'm not even gonna give you any fluff to counteract it! Writing this made me miserable! Yay! Also, the only relationship in this fic is Piper and Tristan, so I'm gonna need you all to help me because that tag does NOT get a lot of traffic, rip.

Anywho, may I present Ao3 Collection Day Ten: He Can't Remember Why

Tristan doesn’t really like the fact that he can’t remember things, but life goes on. His daughter is at school (or was it a camp? He can’t remember) and Hedge leaves, but Mellie stays. He’s starting to forget more now, things from before that shouldn’t have anything to do with that retreat he took. He knows there was a woman, and he loved her, but he doesn’t remember her name. He tells Mellie, and she won’t meet his eye, but she says that sometimes the human brain forgets hurtful things when it’s ready to heal. She says that him forgetting this woman is a good thing because it means he’s finally letting go. He agrees with her and pretends to not notice when she cancels his appointment to see a neurologist. What he doesn’t tell Mellie is that he’s not healing. He hasn’t let go. He’s always clung to those memories of that woman, and to lose them is like losing a limb. He may not remember her face, but he knows the shape of the hole her memories had filled in his heart. *** Tristan McLean is having memory problems. It's not a problem until it is. He tries to ignore it but he can't Ao3 Anniversary Collection Day Ten: Amnesia

Tristan McLean is having trouble remembering things. He doesn’t think he’s always had memory problems, and he’s not sure when these started. Well, that’s actually not entirely true. There’s a week that he can’t remember, and not the same kind of ‘can’t remember’ where he struggles to grasp at fuzzy details, this one is just an entire week of his life that has been completely blacked out. He’s reminded of those times where he was given confidential scripts to read over that had pages and pages of censored lines. He knows that something is supposed to be there, and he knows that it’s important, but he can’t see what it is. His life coach tells him that he just went on a retreat that didn’t agree with him, and that the memory loss is unfortunate, but not unexpected. He doesn’t remember hiring a life coach or why he needs one, but Hedge is nice and he gets along really well with his assistant Mellie. He doesn’t remember hiring Mellie, either, but he supposes that is ‘unfortunate, but not unexpected,’ too.

What he doesn’t tell Hedge is that he does remember one thing. He remembers his daughter cradling him to her chest while his body was wracked with sobs. He doesn’t remember why he needed her comfort but he knows that he did need it. Desperately.

Tristan doesn’t really like the fact that he can’t remember things, but life goes on. His daughter is at school (or was it a camp? He can’t remember) and Hedge leaves, but Mellie stays. He’s starting to forget more now, things from before that shouldn’t have anything to do with that retreat he took. He knows there was a woman, and he loved her, but he doesn’t remember her name. He tells Mellie, and she won’t meet his eye, but she says that sometimes the human brain forgets hurtful things when it’s ready to heal. She says that him forgetting this woman is a good thing because it means he’s finally letting go. He agrees with her and pretends to not notice when she cancels his appointment to see a neurologist. 

What he doesn’t tell Mellie is that he’s not healing. He hasn’t let go. He’s always clung to those memories of that woman, and to lose them is like losing a limb. He may not remember her face, but he knows the shape of the hole her memories had filled in his heart. 

Then, things go very, very wrong. His daughter comes home, and she brings her boyfriend. They claim to love each other, but there is a tension between them. A sadness. Tristan tries to ask them about it, but he’s only ever met with tight smiles and placating words. To make matters worse, his memory is getting spottier. He used to have an assistant, he knows he did because he walks past her desk, but he can’t remember her name or what she looked like. He books an appointment with a neurologist again and ignores the feeling of déjà vu. The doctor can’t find anything wrong with him; his MRI and CT scans come back clear and he passes the cognitive tests with flying colors. The doctor tells him that sometimes people start to lose their memory as they age. He’s far too young for that, but every case is unique. The doctor suggests he see a therapist. The therapist looks at him with kind, sad eyes and suggests he start journaling. 

He doesn’t tell the therapist about his relationship with his daughter. He doesn’t tell her about their strained conversations or the fact that he brought home chicken fajitas for dinner the night before. He doesn’t tell her about the fact that he hardly knows anything about his own daughter. He doesn’t tell her because he forgets that he can’t remember.

Things only ever get worse. He loses roles left, right, and center, he’s millions of dollars in debt over taxes he didn’t know he owed, and he finds his daughter sobbing hysterically on the beach clutching the dead body of a boy he thinks he’s supposed to know. He leaves LA after that. It’s too expensive and there’s too much noise and pressure. He just can’t take it anymore. He’s glad that he never sold his father’s house. It’s small and run-down and houses its own fair share of ghosts, but it’s just what he needs. 

He doesn’t listen when he tries to tell himself there’s something he’s forgetting. He doesn’t listen to the half-memory of a little girl’s voice asking him if he’s really going to sell her grandpa’s house. He’s tired of not remembering things. He just wants to cling to what’s left of his life that he can still call his own.

It’s in Oklahoma where he meets Shel. She’s bright and cheerful, even if her fashion says otherwise, and she’s quick as a whip and twice as sharp. He’s not sure why, but he loves her. Her big brown eyes and easy smile fill a hole in his heart that he never realized was there before, and he’s glad to have her in his life, even if he’s not really sure why she’s there. She visits his little two-room house frequently, but never for long and she always seems like she’s waiting one something, so he doesn’t think she’s there for him, but he can’t imagine what else she’d be there for. Still, she’s always kind to him and he’s always happy to welcome her in and he’s sad to see her go. 

She’s there again one Saturday afternoon, teeth bared in a playful grin when he opens the door. “Hi, Mr. McLean.”

“Hi, Shel. Call me Tristan,” he reminds her, just like he always does. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Naw, I don’t plan on being here too long. Thanks, though!”

“Stay as long as you like,” he says. It’s a shame that she won’t be here long, but he’s glad to have her for as long as he can. “Have you been up to anything interesting?”

“I went hiking yesterday,” she said eagerly. “Do you wanna see some of the pictures I took?”

He says yes, of course, and they sit together on the old couch while Shel flips through the photo album on her phone. She’s a remarkably good photographer, and she has a knack for finding the most picturesque locations Tristan has ever seen when she goes on her hikes, so it’s always a pleasure to look through her albums. There’s one photo at the end that catches his attention, and he feels his heart freeze for some reason. “Wait, can– can you go back one? Please?”

Shel hesitates. She’d deliberately flipped past it as quickly as she could the first time, and she seems unwilling to go back to it, but eventually she pulls it up again. 

The photo is of a girl. At first glance, Tristan had thought it was Shel, but it was obviously someone different now that he was properly looking at her. She’s laughing in the picture, her head tipped back and her hand clutching at her chest as if to keep her heart in its cage. He doesn’t know her, but she’s familiar somehow, until he realizes that he’s seen some of her features in his own bathroom mirror. He feels sad, but he can’t remember why.

“Did you take someone hiking with you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and free of sorrow. “She seems nice.”

Shel squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath before she smiles at him. “Yeah, that’s my girlfriend. I-I think you’d really like her.”

Tristan smiles at her. He remembers being young and in love. “You should bring her around sometime. What’s her name?”

Shel presses her lips tight together and she takes another deep breath and blinks hard a few times. “Piper. Her name’s Piper.”

Piper.

Piper.

Piper.

Tristan smiles at her. “A lovely name for a lovely girl.”

He feels sad, but he can’t remember why.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

@lunarubra Thank you so much, Ari!

This chapter was a hard one to write. Generally in most other series that I have planned for them, I intend to cut a lot of the Lizzie stuff because it gets too angsty. But with this series intention being to write Lucy into canon, I wanted to try and see what I could do with it (cook up a whole lotta angst, is the answer 🤭)

Lucy would gladly accept a hug! She already feels bad about the Lizzie Thing, and this has just added a whole new layer to that guilt.

Lizzie is so complicated and messy and I've got a lot planned for her...👀

I'm so glad that you liked the angst and hurt/comfort from this chapter, Ari! 🖤🖤🖤

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy navigates through processing Lizzie's news and what it might mean for his relationship with Lucy.

Word Count: 7,755

Notes: I hope you all don't mind this chapter being longer than I usually make them. I couldn't really find a good place to cut it in half, and there wasn't much that I could cut out, either. Poor Lucy has the lowest self esteem in the entire world. Warnings for depictions of pregnancy, angst, jealousy, smut, and references to abortion.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 18: Seemingly Incurable Sadness

Tommy’s hands squeezed tight around the steering wheel, fighting to ignore the way that his lungs burned for a cigarette. His stomach churned with anxiety, mind still reeling.

The awkward silence between him and Lizzie stretched on and on within the confines of the car as he drove them through the winding streets towards her lodgings. Her words from when they’d spoken in his office still rang in his head. 

“Yes, it can only be yours.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“A baby. A little you and me.”

His throat felt suddenly intensely dry. He wanted to slap himself.

Fucking hell, the one goddamn time he doesn’t pull out…

He’d been too lost in memories of Greta during that time between him, Lucy, and Lizzie down by the canal. It had not even occurred to him until later that he had failed to take necessary precautions. 

He let out a small, harsh sigh. An internal scream was sounding in his head, hoping that somehow this was all a nightmare he would wake up from at any moment. He didn’t want to have a baby with Lizzie. He didn’t want to be shackled to her for the rest of his life.

But it wasn’t like he was going to force her to get rid of it.     

He would buy her a house. He would be involved in the child’s life. He would support her financially–he certainly could afford to. But outside of that, he had no intention of committing anything deeper to her. 

The last thing that he wanted was to give her yet more hope that something was ever going to happen between them. 

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Lizzie had been expecting him to drop instantaneously to one knee with a marriage proposal the very moment that the announcement of her pregnancy left her lips. 

Pulling the car over against the curb directly in front of Lizzie’s lodgings, he killed the engine, half hoping that she would just get out and leave him alone without another word. 

He needed some time to himself, to properly collect his thoughts. 

“Would you like to come up?” Lizzie asked, voice soft. 

“No.”

Still, she made no move to get out of the car. “What will you tell Lucy?” she finally asked, and Tommy had to suppress a wince at his lover’s name, guilt roiling within him so violently that for a moment he thought it might make him sick. 

It had been the very first thought that had come to him, after the initial shock had worn off and he was left with the weight of the reality that Lizzie had just dumped at his feet: Christ, what am I going to tell Lucy?

He had fucked up. Colossally so. Sure, Lucy had been there in the canal too, but she wasn’t the one who’d gone and accidentally impregnated Lizzie while knowing better than to not be so careless. That was all him.

And now he had to go tell his sweet, wonderful girlfriend that he’d gone and knocked up someone else. 

Again.  

At least with Grace, the three of them had been in love. They’d wanted to be together. This time around was different entirely.

“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said softly, clearing his throat. Anxiety twisted in his chest at the mere thought, despite his attempts to talk himself around it. To remain optimistic. He had no intention of leaving Lucy. Things could still remain as they were, between them. 

Now, if she left him, that would be another story. He didn’t think that she would, but, well…

He wouldn’t blame her, if she did. 

“I feel sorry for her.”

His brows knit together in confusion, something in Lizzie’s tone sending alarm bells off in his head. It did not sound like a simple statement of sympathy for how this whole situation might affect her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after you split up with her, I doubt there will be much of a place for her here at all anymore–”

“No.” It came out perhaps harsher than necessary, and Lizzie’s mouth shut, her jaw tightening. But he needed to get it through to her; make it crystal clear. “Under no circumstances will I be leaving Lucy.” Lizzie opened her mouth to argue. “Ever.” He put as much firm, immovable emphasis on the word as he could without shouting. 

“I’m having your fucking baby, Tommy. Why does she get to be more important than that?”

“Lizzie, please…” he pinched at his brow, battling back a headache. Working hard to keep himself level headed. “I will take care of you. I will take care of the baby, but I’m not…I can’t promise you anything more than that. And I’m not dumping Lucy out onto the street like garbage so that you can play out some fucking fantasy–”

“You’re the one living in a fantasy!” she snapped. “You’re going to make our child a bastard! I know how this goes, Tommy. You’ll stash us away out in the countryside, right? Only to be visited on the rare occasion that you have time for us.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying–”

“No?” she sneered. “You’re going to allow it to be public knowledge that you have an illegitimate child? I’m sure that will do wonders for your reputation.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I will not allow my child to be shoved aside while you gallivant around with that little tart–”

“Oi!” This time he did shout, voice echoing throughout the interior of the car. Lizzie cringed back at the sound, shoulders drawing in, and a look of immediate regret passed across her face. Had he not been so frustrated, he may have found it fascinating: the way that she seemed to almost rouse, like she had been stuck in a trance of anger and jealousy before his bellow of fury snapped her out of it. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked down at her hands. “I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, looking out the window. “I didn’t mean that.”

Tommy wiped a hand down his face. There were about a dozen things he’d like to say to her, but he decided to refrain. At least until after he’d spoken to Lucy and knew where she stood on everything. 

“If you are going to insist on keeping the baby, I’m not going to fight you on it,” he said, slowly. “But you need to make peace with the fact that Lucy is important to me. She will always be important to me. She’s a part of my life. You have to accept that, Lizzie.” When she didn’t say anything, instead just staring down at her hands, he let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “This really shouldn’t be so big of a shock.”

Still, Lizzie did not answer, just sitting there in angry silence. Tommy shook his head. 

“I thought that you and her were getting along,” his voice was quieter, at a loss for what else he could do or say. Only able to hope that somehow, Lizzie would remember that Lucy wasn’t her enemy in all of this. Hell, up until the canal, things had been cordial, even friendly, between them.  

Lizzie did not acknowledge his words, turning away sharply and opening the car door, stepping out onto the street. When she turned to slam the door shut behind her, she shot him a look that it took him a beat to recognize as heartbreak.   

Guilt crashed down upon him again. For placing them both into this situation. For getting her hopes up again. For not being able to give her what she really wanted. 

For, in complete and total honesty, not really wanting to. 

Because he would never trade what he had with Lucy for even the remote possibility of having something with Lizzie. Not ever. And the type of love that Lizzie was seeking from him was not the kind that would have room for anyone else.   

God, what a fucking mess. 

“I know a good realtor. I’ll have him call you so you can start looking at houses,” he tried to offer. Lizzie looked away. 

“Whatever.”

He sighed, for perhaps the thousandth time that night. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” she said, still without looking at him, and slammed the car door in his face. He watched her walk to her door, waiting until she was safely inside before turning back on the engine, pulling the car away from the curb, heading towards home. 

Towards Lucy. 

Dread sprang up in his throat, tasting of bile. He did not know how he was going to face her. Already he could envision it: the way that her big green eyes would look up at him, wide and full of hurt. A tremor traveled down his arms, all the way to his hands. With a sharp jerk, he suddenly yanked the steering wheel to pull over the car, letting the engine idle while he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. The smoke drew deeply into his lungs, helping to somewhat stifle the shakiness of his hands.

His Lucy. His poor Lucy. This was going to hurt her. She would most likely try to pretend that it didn’t, but it would.

And it was his fault. 

He loved her. He’d promised never to hurt her, and here he was, about to waltz into their home, drop this whole load of shit at her feet, and ask her to still, somehow, stay with him. He couldn’t be more selfish if he tried. 

It had never been his intention to have any more children after Grace died. He had been on the fence about it even prior to her death. In his mind, Charlie had been more than enough, and after learning that Lucy couldn’t get pregnant, the idea of him and Grace having more had felt almost…insensitive. Not that they’d even gotten the chance to ever really discuss it. Grace died before that could happen. 

The very thought of Grace was enough to have a burn of tears, both of guilt and sorrow, burning in the back of his throat. It was times like these he was thankful that he did not really believe in an afterlife. The thought of her looking down on him and seeing what he had done made him want to weep with shame. 

No, after Grace was gone, more children had not been something either he or Lucy had planned on. She could not have them, and they were more than content with Charlie, Asher, and their horses. 

As if things weren’t bad enough already, it was compounded by the reality that Lizzie was about to give him something that Lucy never could. The pain that would cause was not lost on him. Yet another kick to the stomach for his kindhearted redhead to endure. His lover who had never, in all their time together, done anything to hurt him. Certainly not to this magnitude.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, striking it as hard as he wished that he could hit himself, palm burning where it collided with the material. 

“Fuck!” he screamed.   

Face falling into one of his hands, palm rubbing at his forehead and eyes, he drew in a deep, ragged breath. Wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy pulled himself together, hands curling around the steering wheel after he put the car back into gear, beginning to once more drive through the dark streets of Small Heath, bouncing slightly along the uneven cobblestones. 

He’d drive around for a while before heading home, he decided. To collect his thoughts and figure out just how the hell he was going to tell Lucy about all of this. 

A few blocks down the road from home, he came across a flower shop. Breaking in was no trouble, and he left a few shillings on the counter for the bouquet he’d stolen, closing the store up just as he’d found it, settling the flowers on the passenger seat gingerly, making sure that they didn’t get squished. 

It felt like not even close to enough given the circumstances, but he had to do something nice for her. 

The time spent driving and thinking had only served to triple the anxiety he’d already felt in regards to telling her. 

He glanced over at the flowers, swallowing painfully. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t leave him. 

Still, the thought did little to soothe his nerves, nor did it stifle the swirling self hatred that tormented him the entire drive home. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy ran a hand over her hair, sighing and swirling the whiskey in her glass before raising it to her lips for a sip. Her eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Even the very thought of having to change from her work clothes into a nightgown for bed seemed to be too much effort.

After getting home, she’d grabbed a quick snack from the pantry, chatted with Finn for a little while, and then went upstairs to tuck Charlie in and read to him a chapter of the book she and Tommy had been reading to him every night before bed when they were able. He’d crashed about halfway through, and she’d quietly pecked his forehead before placing the bookmark between the pages, switching off the light, and departing from the room to let the little boy sleep.

Standing there in the middle of her and Tommy’s makeshift bedroom, she tapped the metal of her rings against the glass containing her drink, just staring into space. It had been a hard, long day. She hoped that Tommy would be home soon. 

Frowning, she took a look at her pocket watch, wondering just what could be taking him so long. She set it down onto the vanity with a soft clink, just as she heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside. 

Speak of the Devil.

A moment later she heard the sounds of the front door being opened, and then boots on the stairs. 

She set her glass down beside her pocket watch on the vanity, turning with a smile to the door when it opened. 

“Hey–” whatever else she might’ve been about to say died on her tongue the moment that she saw his face. He looked ashen, nearly ill; his blue eyes miserable, fixed on her with what she could only call regret and desperation. “What’s going on?” she asked, gaze dropping to the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. Tommy swallowed hard, setting the bouquet aside onto the nightstand and taking a step towards her, resting both hands on her upper arms. 

“Lucy…” his voice wobbled a little at the end of uttering her name, breaking eye contact to look down. Her brows pulled inwards in response to the look of outright shame that crossed his face. 

When he looked up at her it was to gently stroke his fingertips down her cheek, eyes fixed upon her face as if trying to memorize it. Like he expected that at any moment she would walk out the door and never return.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly. Her heart jumped into her throat, confusion only building. It wasn’t like declarations of his love for her were a particularly rare occurrence, but there was something about his tone that had a plume of dread twisting inside of her. “I’m so, so sorry, love.” 

“What…?”

He replaced his hand on her upper arm, looking down again for only a moment, collecting himself, before forcing his eyes to meet hers. The regret and misery in them nearly bowled her over. 

“Lizzie is pregnant.”

Lucy stared at him, feeling as though she’d been punched. Like that moment after the wind was knocked out of you and you felt as though you might never be able to catch your breath again.

“O-oh,” was all she managed to say, head spinning with a thousand possibilities, a thousand thoughts all at once. She did not need to ask him if the baby was his; the grave, regretful way that he had told her was answer enough to that question. 

Tommy was still holding onto her, watching her reaction beseechingly with barely concealed fear. Still looking at her like he expected at any moment for her to wrench herself from his grasp and push him away. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.  

“What–um…what about…are we…?” she could not seem to be able to put together a proper sentence, too many questions, all needing to be asked and yet dreaded to be answered, perched on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but not really succeeding. “She’s keeping it?” she managed to get out. Tommy nodded. Her head bobbed in numb acknowledgement. She’d thought as much, given the way he was behaving. 

Saw her chance and fucking took it, she caught herself thinking bitterly, and shoved the thought down with a wince. Tommy’s hands tightened a little against her arms, looking as though he wanted to pull her closer, but was unsure if she would actually be agreeable to him doing so.

A baby. Tommy was going to have another baby. With someone else. The one thing that Lucy could never give him–that fact only a twist to the knife already embedded in her flesh. She was struck harshly with a potent sense of deja vu, teleported back to the day of the Derby, after all the excitement was over and Tommy told her in the car on the way home that Grace was pregnant with his child. 

Except this time was not at all the same, was it?   

Grace had loved her. Grace had wanted her around. Had accepted and openly encouraged her relationship with Tommy, as well as her position as a second mother figure in Charlie’s life. Lucy knew she would get no such consideration from Lizzie. 

Because–let’s be perfectly frank, here–Lizzie hated her guts. The mask had come off after that day in the canal. Whatever friendliness Lizzie may have shown her before then, Lucy could not help but think that it had to be only because she knew that she needed to play nice with her in order to remain close to Tommy. It hurt; she genuinely thought that they might’ve been on their way to finally becoming friends.

You idiot, she chastised herself. They should never have started things back up with Lizzie. But maybe this was what they deserved, for so flippantly using Lizzie as a stand-in to fulfill their own grief-fueled fantasies. 

Lizzie would want her gone. Of that, she had no doubt. She wondered how long it would be before her first attempt at jettisoning her from Tommy’s life. Perhaps she had already tried after telling Tommy the news.

A horrible thought barreled into her mind with the force of a freight train, her gaze, having drifted to stare blankly around the room while she thought, snapping back to Tommy’s. Fear locked its hands firmly around her throat.

“Are you leaving me for her?” she forced herself to ask, voice quiet and trembling. Tommy’s eyes widened. 

“No! No, I’d never leave you,” he cradled the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning desperately into the strong warmth of his touch. 

“Does Lizzie know that?”

“Yes; I told her.”

After she undoubtedly asked you to throw me out onto the street without a second thought. “I’m sure she was thrilled.”

He took hold of her face with both hands, tilting it to look at him. “I made it clear that if she wants to have this baby, she’s going to have to make peace with the fact that you are a part of my life.”

She gave him a despondent look. “And do you really think that she will?”

Tommy frowned. “She’s going to have to.”

She nodded, slowly, movements jerky and numb. Guilt and confliction roiled around inside her. Of course she did not want for him to throw her away, but…it all just seemed so incredibly unfair to Lizzie.

He may have put his foot down this time. But what about the next? Or the dozen after that? What about after the baby comes? 

If Lizzie decided to force him to choose between Lucy or her and the child…

Lucy was not fool enough to think that she’d ever be the triumphant party should a choice like that be put before him. Nor would she want to be. The thought that she could ever be what came between him and his children made her feel physically ill. 

Within seemingly a matter of moments, the entire dynamic had shifted, the power structure reversing. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly small and inconsequential. Nonessential when put into the grand scheme of things. Lizzie was going to be the mother of his child, now. That automatically put her high above Lucy in the hierarchy of important women in Tommy’s life.   

They were connected forever, now. Lizzie’s place at Tommy’s side was secure. More so than Lucy’s was, even. Through the baby they would share a bond that Lucy would never be able to have with him. 

The dark pit of despair was opening wider within her mind, beckoning her to its edge, encouraging her to spiral down into its ink-black depths.  

She swayed on her feet, a violent shudder going through her, a small sound emitting from her throat. She pulled suddenly away from Tommy, staggering forwards, not even entirely sure where she thought she was going. It was only when she drew away from his body that she realized just how imperative his presence had been in holding her together.

“Luce?” Tommy asked, voice worried, and she could sense him hovering behind her, wanting to reach out, but hesitating, unsure if his touch was still welcome. 

Slowly, without even processing what she was doing, she lowered herself to the floor, sitting with her back propped up against the side of the bed, knees curled underneath her. Knuckles raising to press against her lips, she fought to contain the strangled sob that came from her throat. But more were coming, hot tears pooling in her eyes to run down her cheeks. 

“Oh, love,” Tommy said, and then he was sitting down beside her, shoulder pressing against hers, arm wrapping around her, hand cradling her head and pulling it to tuck into his shoulder. “Come here.”

Her cheek pressing into the warmth of his body seemed to break whatever lingering composure she’d been clinging to, eyes squeezing shut, entire weight slumping against him, violent sobs starting to wrack through her entire body. 

“Shh…” he wrapped his other arm around her and started to rock them both from side to side, petting her head while his lips pressed to her red curls.   

She cried hard into him for a good long while, face squished into his shirt, probably getting makeup smudges all over the material. He held her very, very tightly, nearly crushing her into him and continuing to press kisses all around the crown of her head until she settled, sobbing giving way to quiet sniffles.   

“Sorry,” she drew back, not far enough to pull free from his embrace, but just enough that she could scrub at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “I’m fine, really, I’m just feeling sorry for myself…”

“Don’t…don’t apologize. You have every right to be upset.”

When she craned her head up to look at him, she was met with an agonized look in his wide eyes. His hand was still holding her head, the feel of his strong palm resting atop her hair a comforting, protective presence. His thumb stroked over her curls. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, distraught over the pain he was causing her overtaking his face. Lucy shook her head, letting her cheek rest more solidly where he had her tucked into his chest. 

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“We both should’ve.” The choice to take Lizzie down to the canal had been a joint effort, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, lips parting, then closing, a fearful look Lucy almost never saw from him entering into his eyes. 

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand…” he sounded like he was in physical pain as he forced the words out, hardly able to meet her gaze, looking away as if already mentally preparing himself for her to reject him. 

She blinked up at him, taken aback. The look on his face broke her heart, the agony at the mere idea of her walking away from him perpetual and crippling. 

“No, that’s not…” she trailed off, shifting slightly, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel him noticeably relax against her. “You won’t. You won’t.” He squeezed her as if afraid to let her go. 

“What are we going to do?” she asked, finally, once he’d loosened his grip just enough for her to lean back and peer up at him again. Tommy sighed the sigh of the terminally exhausted.

“I told Lizzie I’d give her a weekly allowance and buy a nice house for her and the baby. I wanted to talk to you first before discussing any other details with her.”

She nodded, appreciating the gesture, and swallowed hard around the next question, voice quiet and still a little thick with tears. “Are you going to marry her?”

Tommy frowned. “I’m not planning to.”

“That could hurt your reputation…”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, and sighed again. “We’ll deal with that if we have to.” Large fingers swept some of her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. “Even if I did…that doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t still…”

Lucy looked away, down at her hands where she’d started unconsciously fiddling with her rings. “Lizzie might not be agreeable to that.”

“I’m not exactly going to leave it up to negotiation,” he tilted her face upwards, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more. “We come as a pair.”

“She doesn’t like me, Tommy.”

“She’s had her moments of unpleasantness, but I really don’t think she hates you as much as you think–”

“In her eyes, I’ll always be the primary obstacle between you and her finally being able to be together.”

“That’s not true.” He must have seen something in her face, because his gaze sharpened, shifting closer to her on the floor, jaw setting stubbornly, deadly serious. “Hey, look at me,” he commanded, gently, waiting until she did before he continued. “We’re going to be okay,” he swore. “I love you so much. I’m not going to leave you. Not now; not ever, alright?”

“She might make you…”

“She can’t make me do anything. I’m not leaving you, and if that upsets her, that’s her problem. She knows what our arrangement is; I made it as clear as I possibly could.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of any problems for you, Tommy…” Lucy mumbled weakly. It was her job–literally–to help make his life easier. If her presence started to become the root of serious issues…

“You could never be a problem for me,” he sounded wholly astonished at the mere suggestion. Holding her face as though it were the most precious thing in the entire world, he stroked her cheek rhythmically with the pad of his thumb. Those blue eyes pierced into her, urgent and sincere. “I love you, Lucy.”    

She swallowed hard, forcing back another welling of tears. With it, she squashed down the still enduring batch of insecurities roiling within her, agitated and threatening to bubble to the surface like an unattended stew. Everything still felt raw, heart aching in her chest, but the comfort that Tommy’s touch and earnest words provided helped. 

She believed that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight, and she believed that he loved her. 

It was always possible that she was being unjustly harsh in her assessment of how Lizzie would behave regarding the whole situation. They had been getting along prior to the whole threesome by the canal business, after all. Maybe things really could be okay between them.  

“I love you too,” she said, and he gave her a weak smile. 

“I…erm,” he turned, keeping one arm around her while he stretched up to grab the bouquet he’d left on the nightstand after first entering the room. “I got you these.”

She took the bouquet from him, burying her nose in sweetly smelling, freshly cut blossoms. “Where on earth did you even get a bouquet of flowers so late at night?”

“I, uh, broke into a floral shop a little ways down the road.”

“Tommy!”

“What!? I left some money on the counter and closed it up just as I found it.”

She gave him an affectionate smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He looked at the bouquet with a frown. “It was the least that I could do, given the circumstances.” 

A lump formed in her throat. It may have been a small gesture, all things considered, but the thoughtfulness of it wasn’t lost on her. 

“Thank you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the arm that was around her returning to cradling the side of her head.

He was always so sweet with her, in a way that she knew he never was with anyone else. The efforts that he made to take care of and prioritize her had always been of significance, and she was forever aware of just how lucky she was that he so genuinely, deeply loved her. 

Treacherous, her mind yanked her back to Lizzie and the baby. Between them, Charlie, the company, the war with Changretta, various family affairs, and her, it was getting awfully crowded on Tommy’s priority list.

Maybe everything would work itself out.

Or maybe not. 

First guess who on that list would be the first to go. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, and his voice was like the sudden yank of a rope, pulling her up out from under the water she’d slipped beneath, sputtering back into the open air. “Stop getting stuck in your own head.”

A tearful laugh left her lips. “Pot, meet kettle.”

He snorted a little against her hair where his lips were currently pressed. 

She sniffled, head resting more firmly against his shoulder. Tommy squeezed his arm around her, until she was tucked tightly into his warm side. “Don’t ever let me go,” she pleaded. He turned his head from where his cheek was resting against her head to kiss her hair. 

“Never. I promise.”

Angling her head up, Lucy pressed her nose to his throat, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and lingering smoke. He smelled of pine; like a campfire in the middle of the woods. Like safety. Like home. 

She ghosted her lips tentatively across his neck, feeling him respond to her touch instantaneously, fingers curling under her chin, head tilting down so that he could catch her lips with his. The kiss was slow and infinitely gentle, soft mouth moving against hers like he was trying to pour his love into her with each caress. Even after their lips broke apart, he began earnestly kissing the lingering remnants of her tears away. Gingerly setting her bouquet aside, she twisted her body to press more tightly against his, Tommy’s hands encouraging her to slide into his lap.

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him again, lips parting to his, head angling to allow the meeting of their mouths to become deeper. Warmth from his large hand where it was pressed to the middle of her back seeped in through her shirt.   

“Mm. Are you sure?” he asked, nosing at her hair, hands cradling her in close, so that she was firmly straddling his hips.

“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding, fingers diving into his hair. Tommy kissed her again, the hand on her back sliding up to cradle the back of her head, the other stroking her thigh. Rising up from where he’d been seated and taking her with him, his strong arms lifted her up onto his torso. Hooking her legs around his waist to help him, she moaned softly as he turned them, promptly depositing her on her back on the bed behind them, falling with her so that his body almost entirely covered hers. Now that she’d started kissing him, she was unable to stop. Desperation seeped sharply into her blood, each pump of her heart sending it pulsing out to permeate her entire body.  

Maybe it was out of need for comfort. Maybe it was out of a desire to claim him. She was not entirely sure. 

Each kiss served as a reminder that he still loved her. That he wanted her. That he was there with her. He would not leave her alone. They would be okay; he would make sure of it.  

Clothes slid off, tossed in a shapeless pile on the floor where they’d just been seated. She whined when Tommy broke their kiss to instead suck at her neck, steadily making his way down her body, caressing her breasts, nuzzling at her scars, kissing every inch of naked skin laid out before him. 

The groan he let out when she grabbed his hair and steered his face towards where she needed him had her thighs twitching around his head. Heels crossing against his back, she tried to draw him in even closer, whimpering with her head thrown back when he licked a long stripe from the base of her entrance all the way up to her clit, wrapping his lips around it to give the sensitive bud a sharp suck. She could feel his eyes on her, observing her reactions to ensure that she was enjoying herself as he set to work pleasuring her. 

With fingers and tongue, he brought her to the edge of coming within minutes. But while his movements were earnest in their goal to please her, he was not hurried. Each and every movement seemed to carry with it the need to telegraph his love for her. Tender motions and soft touches. Praises whispered into her skin. Eyes heartful and adoring when they bored into her. 

He did not stop until he’d made her come twice, and only then it was because she had to nudge his head away to give herself a chance to catch her breath. The way that he snuggled his face into her palm had tears pricking the corners of her eyes, thumb stroking over his lips.

His brows creased when he spotted the film of tears preparing to spill down her cheeks, hand raising hastily to her face, half pushing himself up onto his arms to hover over her. 

“I’m okay,” she shook her head, covering his hand with hers where it cupped her cheek. He searched her face for a long moment, worry giving way to sadness. She supposed that he understood just as much as she did that the ache of what was happening with Lizzie would not leave for her a long time–if ever. 

“I love you,” she heard him whisper, dropping his face to kiss her hip. He climbed halfway on top of her, then wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully sinking his weight onto her and resting his head between her breasts, just laying on her for a moment in an embrace that she could have happily remained within for years. Hands rubbing up and down his back, she kissed the top of his head, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. 

Tommy just held her for a moment that could have stretched eons or just a few simple minutes, before stirring in response to the light strokes she started to pet through his hair, lips pressing to the curve of her breast. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, pleasantly warm and heavy against her. When she adjusted her legs so they were looped around his waist, heel resting against the swell of his ass, Tommy let out a soft groan at the way her smooth skin shifted and rubbed against his cock with the movement, lifting his head to peer up at her.  

Slowly, he raised himself up onto his arms, balancing above her, and she was struck with the disparity between their two sizes. He was massive in comparison to her; Lucy’s body petite enough in its small stature and his large enough in its muscular build that he could cover her completely if he wanted. 

But the way that his body curled over hers was not threatening in the slightest. She had never felt so protected in her life. He was warm, and solid, and safe, handling her like the mere thought of hurting her was too agonizing to bear.

Palms flat to the pillow on either side of her head, he kissed her, the sensual slowness of his mouth moving against hers enough to have her practically melting in his arms.

“Please,” she begged between kisses, needing to feel him, needing the physical proof that he still loved her, that he was still hers.  

Not ceasing the press of their lips, Tommy reached down to take himself in hand, stroking a few times and swiping the head of his cock between her folds to gather up the wetness glistening there. 

He entered her slowly, hips pushing languidly forward until they were flush to hers. Lucy moaned at the stretch, legs tightening around him, hands landing on his back. He cupped the side of her face, still kissing her, breaths heavy, as he very leisurely started to rock his hips. 

A pleasured sigh left Lucy’s lips. He was so close. Buried inside her, getting as deep as he could possibly go with each thrust, chest pressed tight to hers, hands all over her. 

“Fuck, you feel good. You feel so good,” he husked between kisses. “I love you so much, Lucy.”

A lump formed in her throat at the way he said it, a sharp moan cutting her off before she could repeat the words back to him. He was still going slow, but his hand had joined the mix, fingers circling around her clit. 

His love was radiating off of him in waves, every touch, kiss, and thrust made with the intention of communicating the ferocity of his feelings for her. Truly making love rather than just fucking. It was nearly enough to bring her to tears, body shaking as it absorbed all the affection he had to give her like a sponge. Her walls tightened as the pleasure built between her legs, a moan bubbling up from within her chest. 

Strands of Tommy’s fringe, having fallen forward, tickled her face, his head turning to nuzzle at her cheek. 

“Tommy…I’m…”

“I know,” he purred, lips ghosting over her freckled skin. “Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”  

Back arching, she wailed as she fell apart around him, nails digging into his shoulders and head thrown back. Tommy growled, face burying in her neck, hand going to her thigh, pressing down gently to get her to open up a little wider for her, hips never ceasing their deep rolls as he rode her through her orgasm and almost straight into another one. She clawed at his back, angling her head so that she could bury her face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groan from within his throat as she sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. 

“Lucy…” he grunted, pace stuttering slightly. The muscles in his back were tensing, his forehead coming to rest on hers, eyes glazed with pleasure. She could feel him all around her, inside her, cock swelling with his impending release, eyes staring into hers intensely. One of his hands, the one not still occupied with her clit, took hold of hers, interlacing their fingers and pressing them into the mattress by her head.

The look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. Devotion emblazoned as brightly as the sun within them. 

I will love you forever, that was what he’d told her when they created the blood bond that left the scars that still marked the palms they had clasped together. It had been true, then. And she knew, the full realization of it crashing upon her all at once, that it was true now.

He was still hers. He was still her Tommy.

Tears welled into her eyes, overwhelmed a little by both the immense pleasure he was giving her, and the sudden, absolute surety of her realization. 

She gasped, the tip of his cock grinding against her g-spot each time he bottomed out. Tommy’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling a little in his skull, hand tightening in hers. His cock twitched inside her, and at the same moment his thumb pressed hard on her clit, and she cried out as, with a growl and the first burst of his seed emptying inside her, he pulled her right along with him over the edge.  

She started sobbing almost immediately, flinging her arms around his shoulders and hugging him so tightly, it was a wonder that he could breathe. He hugged her back, thick arms wrapping around her waist, face burying itself in her neck. His hips were flush against hers, twitching slightly with the last spasms of his release, cock still buried snugly inside of her. 

She wished that they could have stayed like that forever. 

Tears rushed down her cheeks, lips trembling as she pressed them together. The soft, thick tendrils of his hair slid through her fingers, hand smoothing down the base of his skull, feeling the velvety prickle of the shaved sides of his head, following the slope down his neck to stroke his strong back. 

Tommy turned his face to kiss her shoulder, then her neck. When his lips pressed to her cheek and he tasted the saltiness of sheded tears there, he pulled back, eyes wide with concern, immediately moving to push himself off of her and pull out.   

“N-no,” she tightened her legs around him, latching onto his shoulders with a twinge of franticness. “I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. I just,” she let out an embarrassed laugh, rolling her watery eyes at her body’s over dramatic reaction to the sensations and emotions that had just crescendoed inside her. “Am having a lot of feelings right now.”

He cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away a few of the tears. God, she must look like a mess given all the crying she’d been doing tonight.

“Bad feelings?” he asked, gaze soft but still worried, eyes fluttering when she brushed the pads of her fingers down his cheek.

“No,” her thumb traced over the spot that often dimpled when he smiled, swallowing hard, raising her head up so that their noses bumped lightly against each other. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

His throat convulsed in what she recognized as an effort to swallow down tears, emotion rushing into his eyes. 

“I love you too.” His forehead returned to its spot resting against hers. Both inhaled deeply as they kissed. When finally they parted, it was only so that Tommy could pull gingerly out of her oversensitive core, turning over to lay beside her on his side, gathering her up into his arms and tucking her into his chest. Lucy snuggled against him, closing her eyes while he stroked her hair.       

“I mean it,” he said softly, cheek pillowing against the top of her head. “All of it. We’re going to be just fine. I’m not going to let you go; not unless you really want me to. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”  

She kissed the center of his chest a few times, murmuring similar assertions into his skin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I love you too. No matter what. I can’t imagine any possible scenarios where I would ever want to leave you.”

Maybe that made her horrifically selfish, to not be willing to dutifully bow out of the equation so he and Lizzie could make a proper go of things. But she could not just let Tommy go like that. Without him, she would never be happy again, and she could not just abandon him and all the work they’d done. If something happened to him and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself. 

And, if the display of affection he’d just showered her with was of any significance, he would be heartbroken if she left. 

Besides, where would she even fucking go? Her only remaining family were her cousins and aunt in the caravans in the mountains, and she hadn’t spoken properly to any of them in years. 

He seemed incapable of ceasing gentle touches to her face, tracing the outlines of her lips and cheekbones, mapping out patterns in the constellations of freckles smattering her skin, before cradling almost the entirety of her cheek in his large palm.  

“I know…I know how hard and how…shit this all is for you. Thank you for staying with me.” The tenderness, combined with the utter relief and bountiful gratefulness in his eyes, had her heart twisting in her chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She stretched up to kiss him again, both their lips plenty swollen from the amount of times they’d snogged.

“We’re gonna be alright,” she whispered. Tommy nodded, arms tightening around her. 

“We should both probably try to get some sleep.”

Laying her head back down on his chest, she snuggled in closer to him with a sigh. “Yeah.”

Realistically, neither of them was probably going to sleep all that much, but at least they could try to get some rest. Tommy shifted to flick off the light on the bedside table, arm returning to join the other back around her. Lucy closed her eyes at the feeling of him nuzzling into her hair, squishing in as close as she could get to his chest. 

It was not until the early hours of the morning, the sun already beginning to crest over the horizon, when either of them actually managed to slip into a proper doze. But the entire night, they held onto each other, not once letting go.

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