#when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

[wisteriaonbarefeet]

THAT'S A REAL FUCKING LEGACY

TO LEAVE

[forsakenmissives]

was about to get all negative about myself before i looked at the clock and saw it's ten minutes till midnight

[ultralightpoe]

Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

- 

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother. 

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life. 

She did it out of love. 

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person. 

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture. 

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out. 

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was. 

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were. 

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself. 

- 

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

- 

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife. 

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start.  “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend. 

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out. 

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more. 

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there. 

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression. 

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything. 

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly. 

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.” 

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit? 

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around. 

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain. 

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car. 

- 

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

- 

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away. 

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping  the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats. 

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you. 

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again. 

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw. 

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone. 

- 

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

- 

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you. 

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck. 

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.” 

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.” 

“Make a fortune.”

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it. 

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand. 

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around. 

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture. 

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about. 

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink. 

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over. 

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs. 

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it. 

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda.  “Let’s go find our seats?”

- 

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

- 

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head. 

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.  

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back. 

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back. 

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops. 

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm. 

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes. 

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.” 

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen. 

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.” 

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush. 

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.” 

“I can try.” 

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera. 

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

- 

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place. 

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away. 

“You always choose better!”

- 

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at. 

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet. 

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him. 

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.” 

“.....Fuck.”

[lipslikethegardensofbabylon]

thinking about 22 y/o Taylor writing oh lord I think about jumping off a very tall somethings and 30 y/o Taylor singing pulled my car off the road to the lookout could’ve followed my fears all the way down and 33 y/o Taylor singing when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room and

[signorcerullo]

I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser — midnights become my afternoons. When my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room. I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices; I end up in crisis.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info here! Lyrics for the songs and FAQ under the cut!

Labyrinth lyrics

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

You know how much I hate

That everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (falling in love)

Oh no, I'm falling in love again (falling in love again)

Oh, I'm falling in love (falling in love)

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (falling in love)

Oh no, I'm falling in love again (falling in love again)

Oh, I'm falling in love (falling in love)

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around?

(You know how much I hate it)

(You know how much I hate it)

(You know how much I hate it)

🫶🫶🫶

Anti-Hero lyrics

I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people

I've ghosted stand there in the room

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

(Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Did you hear my covert narcissism

I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?

(A tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from Hell"

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

Everybody agrees, everybody agrees

It's me, hi (Hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At teatime (Teatime), everybody agrees (Everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

🫶🫶🫶

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

You don't really read into my melancholia / When my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room / Sapphire tears on my face, sadness became my whole sky / It only hurts this much right now was what I was thinking the whole time / Ask me what I earned from all those tears / My sadness is contagious / I vowed not to cry anymore if wе survived the Great War / Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness / You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough / The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign / All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier / Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

[awesome-opossum-after-hours]

"when my depression works the graveyard shift...

all of the people, I've ghosted stand there in the room"

[idkjustlemmedrownlikerab]

Midnights (Marauder's Version)

Welcome back to the new series by @marsmarauders and I. Obviously we got carried away again but here you have every single song from Midnights related to the Marauders characters :D

So we present to you... Midnights (Marauder's Version)

Lavender Haze

“The 1950s shit they want from me, I just wanna stay in that Lavender haze"

Like this song is very obviously Jily falling hopelessly in love with each other I don’t think it needs to be further elaborated

Maroon

“When the silence came, we were shaking, blind and hazy, How the hell did we lose sight of us again?"

Wolfstar, but specifically like… November 1981. The vinyl reference, "the lips I used to call home," "laughing with my feet in your lap," and "the rust that grew between telephones" signifying how they weren’t communicating well and hiding things from each other "I see you everyday now" cause Remus sees the sky and what just so happens to be in the sky? Stars. Sirius also sees the sky from his prison cell and what does he see? Oh that’s right the moon!

Anti-Hero

“When my depression works the graveyard shift, All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room”

We had two theories for this one first being Regulus bcoz of the self deprecating vibe and “I'll stare directly at the sun (James) but never in the mirror”

But we could also see it as Mary post-war? It's hard to describe why, but everyone sees her as the Anti-Hero cause she saved herself even tho she had full right to do that

Snow on the Beach

For this one I was utterly confused and absolutely useless and Marls came up with this interpretation herself

"Can this be a real thing? Can it? Are we falling like snow at the beach?"

This song is Sirius's perspective specifically during the wolfstar forgiveness phase after the prank. "You wanting me tonight feels impossible".

You're On Your Own, Kid

"You're on your own, kid, You always have been"

Both of us agree that this song screams all the Black children because none of them chose this town (family) and dreamt of getting out, I mean the whole song recounts a young person who longs for love but eventually understands that they are on their own and always have been afterall whatever you do you can never escape the black family curse can you?

Midnight Rain

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain”

I mean do I even need to say anything? Its jegulus bcoz they r the literal definition of opposites attract even tho they loved each other they were born on two different sides of a war which inevitably became the reason of their end.

Question…?

"Can I ask you a question? Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room"

Dorlene. That’s it, like we have no explanation, just vibes.

Vigilante Shit

"I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends, Don't get sad, get even"

Both of us agree it could be both Regulus or Dorcas because canonically Regulus knew about the horcruxes, and died while deceiving the dark lord and on the way to kill him (also bonus bcoz the final blow which made him take this decision was bcoz Voldemort exploited Kreature so Reg decided to get even) Dorcas on the other hand canonically had to be killed by Voldemort himself because she was posing as too big a threat to his empire

Bejeweled

"Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind, Didn't notice you walking all over my peace of mind"

Lily about Severus and how even tho she  mourns and misses her friendship with him, it will never be worth more than her self respect and how she won’t let him walk all over her, a diamond’s gotta shine afterall ;)

Labyrinth

"Uh oh, I'm falling in love, Oh no, I'm falling in love again, Oh, I'm falling in love"

To me this song is sooo obviously jegulus coz of the chorus alone, its James realizing that he’s falling in love again, this time with Regulus after pining after Lily for years. Just how when he thought he was “unlovable” and it was all doomed this sickly, victorian looking, snarky slytherin boy swoops in and steals his heart right out of his chest

Marls has her own hc for Emmary tho where basically Mary was in love with Lily but it was unrequited and then she had a situationship with Emmaline but ended up catching feelings which is so perfect for this song

Karma

"And I keep my side of the street clean, You wouldn't know what I mean"

Again I had no opinion on this song coz it felt like too happy and too upbeat a song for any of these miserable sods (I still love them ) but Marls swooped in with a brilliant interpretation which was that its from Dorcas’ pov to the slytherin trio basically throwing shade at them for choosing to stay and join the death eaters instead of leaving and fighting for the “right” side like her

Sweet Nothing

"They said the end is comin', everyone's up to somethin' I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings"

Now for this song we had differing views with me being a jegulus girlie while Marls being a jily girlie (we still love both the ships tho, we just have a preference)

To me the song is jegulus coz I see it as them expecting the inevitable end of their relationship and doom due to the impending war and their family’s differing views and them just trying to tune everything out to spend their limited time together and in love.

On the other hand Marls interpreted is as to when the Potters were in hiding with only each other and Harry for company. How they could see that the war was on full ride and they were at the centre of it while still trying to create some sweet and happy memories with their son

Mastermind

"I laid the groundwork, and then, Just like clockwork, The dominos cascaded in a line, What if I told you I'm a mastermind?"

(Try and tell me the whole bridge doesn’t scream Regulus Arcturus Black.) To me the song is about Regulus because the man literally was a mastermind, while being a death eater he planned to betray Voldemort by destroying a horcrux and he was actually successful in retrieving it tho maybe I’m a little biased due to his characterization in the fic only the brave (Marls also thinks the song could be about James bcoz of the bridge "To make them love me and make it seem effortless")

The Great War       

"I vowed I would always be yours, 'Cause we survived the Great War"

Marls didn’t really have an opinion on this one but for me it was very clearly wolfstar. First reason obviously being the fact that they are pretty much the only couple who actually survived the war (the first one that is, we all remember how the second one went). "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed" being how they both thought the other was the spy and the prank

Bigger Than The Whole Sky

"Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness, 'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea"

Now this could go two ways one being the black brothers,

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, You were bigger than the whole sky"

Basically how Sirius feels when Regulus gets the dark mark. Because his brother is too far gone

Bonus since Regulus dies literally all out at sea

The other being marylily bcoz of

"What could've been, would've been, What should've been you"

"And I've got a lot to pine about, I've got a lot to live without"

Obviously from Mary’s pov since Lily is dead

Paris

Now Marls had no idea about and I suggested rosekiller just coz of vibes and coz

"I wanna brainwash you, Into loving me forever"

This seems like something Barty would definitely say

High Infidelity

"You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, The slowest way is never loving them enough"

To me this song is bartylus coded (don’t worry they then get together with Evan and James and have a happy relationship) especially coz of this one specific rosekiller microfic I’d seen if I find it I’ll reblog it with this post

Glitch

"In search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground, But it's been two thousand one hundred and 90 days of our love blackout"

We agreed this song gives off wolfstar vibes tho we are open to suggestions

Also 2190 days is six years which is around the same amount of time wolfstar dated if we hc that they got together around their 5th year :D

Would've, Could've, Should've

"If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?, Years of tearing down our banners, you and I, Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts, Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"

Now this track could be taken in many contexts I like the interpretation of it being from the Black children’s perspective to their parents

And another one being from Remus to Greyback

"And if I was a child, did it matter, If you got to wash your hands?"

Marls also suggested it being from Narcissa’s pov to Lucius or Bellatrix, regretting not going with Andromeda which also fits wonderfully

(Since it in itself is talking about the person suffering due to a relationship when they were young and it even now haunts them I feel like this song could be interpreted many many ways bcoz all of the marauders era characters dealt with a lot of trauma at a young age)

Well obviously since most of them didn’t even reach their twenties

Dear Reader

"Dear Reader, if it feels like a trap, You're already in one"

 Peter Pettigrew. Need I see anything more?

Hits Different

"In the good in the world, you once believed in me, And I felt you and I held you for a while"

Lily without Snape in her life especially when she starts falling for James

You're Losing Me

"How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?, I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick, My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick"

For this one there wasn’t even a discussion needed it is wolfstar during the first war and we won’t hear otherwise. How even tho Sirius and Remus loved each other, the pressure of the war itself was too much on them especially coz they were so young and also coz of how Peter was manipulating them against the other ("Was it because I'm a werewolf?" "Was it because I'm a Black?" I’m sorry). They could see their relationship was straining, they kept waiting for the other to take a risk, a step to fix it and how even through their suspicions, they loved each other regardless

AAAAND THAT'S A WRAP!! THANK YOU FOR READING THIS!!

Make sure to come back to see Evermore, coming soon! (To a theater near you.)

[repmoonboy]

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XVII): Anti-Hero.

Imagine Aemond is the King of Westers when you, a Greyjoy, rebel against his rule on behalf of a pretender to the throne.

Warnings: lots of drama, angst; smut, fluff ending like always.

***

•I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser. Midnights become my afternoons when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.

Just as Aemond lands, rain begins to fall. Storms usually bring bad omens, but he takes his time in going back inside. He knows he’s expected and yet the prince has no need to rush inside.

His hair is soaked as well as his leather robes. Nevertheless, he acts as if he’s been barely touched by the foul weather. Iron doors are pushed so Aemond walks inside. The moment he does Ser Criston Cole greets him.

“I salute you, lord. It appears you bring me bad news.”

“Has my grave look delivered it?”

Aemond doesn’t show him any emotion.

“The king lays in his deathbed and has requested your presence.”

Tragedy has marked the few years since his older brother won his crown upon the longer period of time spent fighting Rhaenyra and her children. Madness followed when sweet Helaena went on her free will to the grave once the twins were bitterly deprived of their lives.

Because Lucerys had to be avenged for what Aemond caused. Their mother, some would whisper, did not last longer either. Victory came when most of the greens were buried and the blacks were dead and gone.

Now all that has remained is Aemond, recently a widower after his lady wife, the unpopular Alys Rivers, died in childbirth, preventing the greens to continue their lineage since their unborn child never breathed their first breath.

He tries not to dwell in the dark waters of the past if he does not wish to be drowned in the worst depression that could make any sane man sink into it.

But a path of blood has led him to this moment. One that he always desired. At what cost, though?

“I shall see him. No need to show me the way.”

Ser Criston doesn’t seem pleased with the cold remark of the prince who has been like a son to him, but the knight knows his place and lets him be.

Aemond soon takes the stairs and in this state, he walks to his oldest brother’s privy chambers. Once he gets in, unannounced, the silver haired prince is surprised by the bad smell that comes in.

It’s the smell of death.

“Brother”, the ghostly, pained voice reaches his ear in a most unpleasant way.

Aegon II is prostrated unhealthily in bed, the opposite of what his young self used to be. The weight of the crown costed much, but no price was high enough to restaure his sanity, health or, worse perhaps, his glorious past. In his eyes, there is nothing but the disgrace of another kinslayer, consumed by remorse.

A terrible sight to behold.

“My king”, he bows his head.

“Even in my darkest hour you are tied to formalities”, Aegon snarls in disdain. “It should have been you here, not me.”

“Time has always been a great thief, on that we agree, but do not think the shadow of death will not be casted upon me”, responds Aemond in a whisper.

“I should have been wiser”, says Aegon with eyes blurred by tears. “The older I grew, poorer were the decisions made.”

Aemond doesn’t know what to respond, opting for silence. In truth, he’s always been more of a soldier than a general. Always one to follow orders than give them. Or perhaps the civil war has led him to shape this perspective of himself.

“What good is there to think of what should or could have been done? The past is there for a reason.”

“How can you be so cold?!”

“I am being reasonable, logical even. Where is the need of being sentimental when pointing facts?”

“The woman whom you fought so hard has died! And here you are!”

Out of respect for the dying king, Aemond doesn’t pick this battle to fight. Not again. Not now.

“The crown is yours to use. But there is one thing you must be told before I’m gone…”

Aemond steps closer now, accustomed with the bad smell. The heat of the fireplace seems unwelcoming now that he’s friends with the cold.

“Yes?”

“Not every kin has perished in the war”, he murmurs.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, this is the first time in a while that Aemond has shown some emotion.

Aegon smirks at his brother, pleased to get him some reaction.

“Two of Rhaenyra’s sons are living”, but for some reason the dying king thinks it’s not his problem to give Aemond their whereabouts. Or perhaps this is remorse for all that he’s done.

Who knows? Who could tell what’s in his mind?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“I am not”, and as if he is suddenly tired of living, Aegon coughs.

Aemond spots blood in his brother’s mouth, but by now his heart and mind are divided in between genuine concern over Aegon, his last remaining family, and the whereabouts of possible pretenders to his throne.

“Aegon…”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, brother.”

That being said, Aegon’s life has been turned into nothingness. The old king is dead. Long live the new king.

***

• I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices. I end up in crisis (tale as old as time). I wake up screaming from dreaming. One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)…

You stand in black leather robes by your father’s side the moment a messenger enters the great salon. Outside waves hit the shore violently, announcing a tempest that has been forming in the past twenty and four hours. Clouds have been obscuring the skies, but only by this twilight they’ve been producing electric sounds.

A lightening is heard.

“Well, lord. Under hospitality laws you are welcomed in this household”, says the chieftain of the House Greyjoy. “What news do you bring us?”

The messenger inspires some sympathy in you. He’s younger than your youngest brother and appears to have been made of summer. He knows naught of the perils that coming to Pyke might indulge him. But to his fortune Lord H/N Greyjoy is the head of the House at the moment, which means that he knows the aforementioned laws and would never harm a messenger.

“We have a new king”, by his accent you know he comes from a mid noble house of King’s Landing. “Aegon, second of his name, has died and transmitted the crown to his successor. His brother, lord Aemond Targaryen, is now the new king.”

“Ah”, says Lord H/N, playing with the knife. “A usurper following another usurper. Why does he care about us, often ignored by most Targaryens? Is he familiar that our laws somewhat differ even though we have been paying tribute and homage to them for a while?”

The poor messenger is sweating cold. You think wise to interfere when Lord H/N smiles benevolently.

“Young man, as bad reputed as my house is, we are honorable. At least I like to think my kin and I are. The laws of hospitality mean a great deal to us. But I appreciate the message you delivered us. I presume this means Lord Aemond is expecting that we submit to him as our overlord and king.”

The boy swallows again in relief. You see he’s considering correcting your father for the misuse of titles, but opts not to ruin his fortune.

“Aye, lord. The time to pay homage is soon.”

“Indeed it is”, your father strokes his chin. “These are the days I miss King Viserys. Many took him for a fool, but peacekeeping is the product of hard work. This is what made him a good king. And His Grace respected us, the houses that made his reign proper to rule.”

Then he stands, indicating the time to talk has come to an end.

“Tell lord Aemond that we recognize no king but the one who attends the name of Aegon III, son of the formidable Lord Daemon Targaryen and the queen who should have been, Rhaenyra.”

The warning is done. When the messenger leaves, you pity the poor lad’s fate. As you see the wind whirling against the sea, you say:

“The bad omen is sent by the God.”

It’s your elder brother, your father’s heir, who says:

“What do you understand of such things?”

You shoot him a gaze as if you are speaking with someone whose comprehension equals that of an ant.

“Great tempests like the one that’s been forming is hardly favorable. It is known.”

“A bad omen for the self pretentious new king”, you hear your father correct you. “This is our God preparing us for war.”

“War”, your brother repeats. “Was it necessary, father? We do not know whether the offspring of Queen Rhaenyra are alive.”

“They are”, lord H/N says in a tone that makes clear he knows many more things than he’s letting show. And here is how the schemes begin. “However, we must test the new king’s forces.”

Looking at you, his favored daughter, the head of Pyke says:

“Take with you a great number of men. You do well in tempests like this. The new king will assemble his army, but he’s not foreseeing our attack against his shores, assuming we are going to Lannisport again.”

You nod, unquestioning. Another brother, however, meddles:

“Is it prudent to underestimate the usurper, sire? He collects epithets that make quite a powerful sobriquet.”

“Words as those are meant to break fools by creating unreasonable fear of a man who is just that: a man.” And giving you a look, he says: “You may go.”

You hide away your fears, taking his orders. Unlike your brothers, you don’t question your father and you have no taste for blood. Though sensitive you may be—grieving the loss of your sister springs ago when she was forced to marry a green partisan only to die in childbirth and that of your mother by melancholy made you deal with your rage through violent seas—, you hide away your true self off the eyes of others.

Despite the beauty that brings admirers to your side, iron is set above it so though you never caused any death directly, you had enough power to bring it—which only means how fearful to some you can be, not to mention the protection and favor you have of the family.

Now here you are with the men under heavy rain. It’s time to scheme. Despite the bad feeling you bear with you—the fights you won previously during the civil war for the blacks usually occurred in calm sea, not amidst violent waves—, what else is there to do but to obey your father and overlord?

You turn at the ship and instruct your loyal men to follow you. But you do not enter in it before praising the God you serve and yelling after taking a long sip of wine:

“What is dead may never die!”

***

• It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Aemond’s coronation may have happened with no issues, but brought vices of temper that were not sufficiently tamed during his days of prince. One of which was the obsessive search for the lost sons of Rhaenyra.

Amidst this inconclusive search, the wolves of Winterfell are threatening to revolt at the same time the Krakens of Pyke delivered the message of subtle warning of war.

In spite of the circumstances, he is more than acutely aware of the fragile state of his kingship. This is the time to show his subjects he is not like Aegon.

Nay. He is better.

All the whilst the whereabouts of his nephews remain inconclusive and unknown, Aemond concentrates in issues that expect pragmatism of his part.

The North can still be dealt with the use of diplomacy and he sends his Hightower cousin to Winterfell with gold and an arrangement that works for his cause—presumably a match between a daughter of Lord Cregan and his envoy himself since Aemond has no desires in remarrying.

However, the Greyjoy assault assumes preoccupying colors. What could possibly lead an old house to open rebel against his rule?

“This is easy to resolve”, he shares his thoughts with Ser Criston Cole. “Their fleet will burn with fire and blood.”

Aemond does not fantom how the glory of his moment, albeit with a bloody path that brought him there, can be eclipsed by the refusal of a general acceptance of his rule.

Leaving personal vanities aside, cleaning his judgement of probable vices, the new king understands that the civil war of years ago has not yet been put to an end.

As he watches from the Red Keep the storm outdoors, calmly and steadfastly, a part of him comprehends that he may not be the best loved king time has witnessed and the pen of the maesters registered, but duty is what will always impel him to do what’s best.

If those will not see it through his good, may they see through his worse.

*

You cling onto optimism under the advantage that this is a surprise attack well coordinated, not a spontaneous sack in search for gold, nor an occasion fighting with random pirates.

This is not, however, a mere thirst for adventure being satisfied. The purpose, although ignored by you in great measure, is bigger than what your reason can conceive.

Perhaps you lack ambition to fight your wars, to be manipulated by your father like your brothers accuse him of doing—but what other choice do you have? He’s never treated you unkindly nor forced you upon an unwanted marriage, giving you liberty to do as it pleased you as long as you’d not forget your duties to your house.

You had your mother and your sister to tame your worse tendencies—whether to be slaved by the passions of the flesh or under the sins of pride—, some of which you’ve learned to repress. Now, however, you are where you belong. In the midst of chaos.

You do not like to fight it or to shed blood. To waste lives is a purpose you take no pride of. But leading others to it… or letting them choose to do what circumstances impel them to do so… this is what you are born to do. This is what makes most men fear you, comparing you to your father.

But they don’t see that, underneath this iron, there lies something pure and good. Sensitive. Aiming to be seen, aiming to be truly free of the duty that ties you to your family.

For however loved or useful you may be to your father, you are still under his command. Even here, even now.

However, it would have been prudent to question it, to have followed your instincts. For you have forgotten, or perhaps not have been told, that a storm never stopped King Aemond of flying his great legendary beast.

Waves clash against the ships, threatening to drown the men in them, or perhaps, as you hopefully attempt to see, leading you all to your destination.

But you miss a great shadow following above clouded skies. The night looks longer and deadlier, specially when it’s heard a roar right when a lightening bolt hits the ocean.

It doesn’t take long before you and your men pale as a shadow of the largest creature you’ve ever put your eyes on is casted upon the ship. You yell orders to separate the ships, with each carrying a beast to put it down.

The rain is too strong now and thus muffles your commands. To worse all, fire comes from above. Two of your ships are gone. You try not to succumb to your fear, soon leading the ship yourself. The desperation of your men is heard, but you try not to let the sound shake your core to join them in frustration.

Some of them opt to jump into the arms of the Drowned God and you cannot blame. But as you try to flee out of the dragon’s grasp, to your dismay you spot an outstanding number of fleet coming to your direction.

You flush violently.

“Fuck, we are ruined! This mission has been…”, your voice dies out. What is there to say? Has your father sent you to a trap?

“What should we do, lady Y/N?”, the second in command asks you.

“Never surrender”, your pride takes the iron shield back to surface. “If we must die, so be it.”

Aemond, however, has other plans. Despite burning and leading his own men to suffocate your rebellion before it reaches land, he wants to imprison the leader of it, which means you.

Soon, your ship is bombarded—and you watch as the king’s men slay all of yours, but you.

“Why are you sparing me?”

To no avail you seek death or protest. As if you are nothing, Lannister men hold you tight, removing you from the wrecked ship. By then you do not know whether you are weeping or the rain is washing your face. What difference is there?

You understand death is coming to you soon or later. Realizing that gives you strength, but paradoxically descend into melancholy.

***

• Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city, pierced through the heart, but never killed…Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

Aemond’s victory upon the two threats against his rising reign leaves him comfortable to deal with upcoming events. Whilst there is no indication that only the names of his nephews are alive in the memory of his enemies, with no bodies found he focus in the real threats and these have been placated.

But curious in meeting the leader of what he judges to be a piracy house, he expects to see you soon. Barely he knows, as well as you, what will result of this.

In the meantime, as comfortable as you are in new robes and in fancy quarters of the Red Keep, protected from the storm that is still daunting outdoors, you have your nightmares to deal with.

The sounds of the men screaming as they either embraced death willingly or were deprived of their lives with inutile resistance bend you to your tears. Never before you felt so weak for loving the sea, the wilderness in it.

What hurts more is the realization you were not born to be a soldier. A part of you always expected to be equal your brothers, but your failure shows precisely that you are not like them.

Lost in your contemplations, you are trying to think of a solution about leaving the place when you are surprised by the presence of no one but the king himself.

Aemond has no time to waste in delegating useless tasks that he can do it himself. Thus it is this anxious warlord comes to the chambers he located you.

Whilst he stands there, you and him share a silent stare. The silver haired prince is significantly taller than you, possessing, as you first notice, a long sword in his right side and a dagger in his left. The idea that he came protected to meet you almost makes you smile.

“What reason is there to your lips twirl in a smirk? You have no reason to commemorate”, his husky voice assaults your troubled mind, forcing you to focus on him.

“You came alone to meet me, lord king. Armed. Do I pose you enough danger for that?”

Aemond takes a seat before you. His good, lilac eye studies you intently. Despite feeling crimson paint your cheeks, you do not look away.

“You think too high of yourself, lady Y/N Greyjoy. I suggest you to know your place.”

You fold your arm, mockery rising to your eyes.

“Please, lord. Enlighten me what place is this when you have no morals to speak in such terms.”

Aemond is patient. And unlike many of the men that crossed your path, not tempted to easily demonstrate or slip into his temperament.

“I wear the crown and impose a defeat on your feeble attempt to overthrow me, lady Y/N. It is unwise to dictate the rules of this game.” And then he adds. “A game that you perhaps have not been prepared to play. Has your good father not instructed you on it properly? By the sounds of your defeat, I guess not.”

You clench your jaw. Despite the broken pride and the heat in your throat that might vert in unwelcoming tears, you hold back the instinct of throwing your hands around this king’s neck and break it.

But you’ve never been one back to violence, have you?

“Has the cat eaten your tongue?”

You stand at last.

“Why coming to insult me so freely? Kill me if you must, lord king. One less enemy to humiliate!”

Aemond too stands, hands contrived in his back.

“Nay”, he speaks in almost a whisper. “The rules are not yours to dictate. Besides, with your supporters dead, I have a guess that your father will not come for you.”

With a side smirk, he leaves you. Victoriously so. And as he closes the door, there locking you in, the prince hears your screams.

*

But he wonders what to do with you. This is not a typical rebel, nor a natural leader who easily inspires dissent. A soldier. The word brings him back to his memories when, as the right hand of King Aegon, his brother, he did what you are doing now. Obeying orders.

Intrigued by this comparison, he goes back to your quarters after he finishes dinner. Unannounced, he surprises you combing your long y/c hair, wearing a white night gown. As you readily stand before the noise of opening door, he sees not only fear behind your eyes… but comes to notice the strong firm breasts the silk poorly disguises.

However, to his own sake he best not to look too much in you.

“What are you here for, lord king?”, you ask away, throwing robes over your shoulders. “I-It’s too late for a visit and I shall not be your whore.”

Your words, much to your dismay, make him chuckle. Aemond pulls a chair and there sits, holding your uncomfortable gaze still.

“Despite the inappropriate hour, I had to speak with my lady”, says he.

“What for?”, you retort, still at a corner like a frightened animal.

“I will do no harm to you, Y/N Greyjoy. I am not my brother”, he clenches his jaw, waving his hand dismissively. “All I want is talk. You have my word.”

You hesitate and Aemond sees distrust in your eyes. He doesn’t blame you for this behavior. Now wondering what he’d do if his sister’s forces had captured him many moons ago, he comes to think he’d behave similarly. If not more rudely.

Eventually you cede and take a distant seat of him.

“Well?”, you say, anxious. “Speak your terms.”

“I did not come to bargain”, Aemond smirks. “Why, as a victor, would I do so?”

“I am not your trophy, lord king”, you frown your eyebrows in clearly displeasure. “Either send me home or execute me. Other possibilities are out of consideration.”

Aemond is entertained by how your pride takes the reins of the situation. Ignoring what you just said, he proceeds rather cautiously.

“You are a soldier.”

On that you don’t see it coming. You tilt your head and had not it been for a few scars over your eyebrows and on your neck, besides the calloused hands, he’d take you as a princess.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Patiently, the king explains.

“You were following orders to bring your men here. When we captured you, I’ve already had some informations about you. You are the only daughter of Lord H/N of Pyke, but hardly as skillful as your brothers… at least where bloodshed is concerned. You have a tender heart and even when you sack or pile you tend to have mercy on your enemies.”

You look at him in between astonishment and embarrassment.

“You planted a spy at my father’s household.”

Aemond’s lips twitch in a smile.

“You are clever, my lady.”

You feel a strange urge to weep, but you blink a few times, refusing to cede to it.

“I will not ask why. You’ve been counting on that, haven’t you? But seeing I am useless to my father, why keeping me here at your mercy?”

“I do not think you are useless to him. On the contrary”, Aemond rests his hand over his knee. “I know how cherished you are for him.”

“You are using me to bring out my family and defeat it publicly. My House will stand, lord.”

“There are many ways a House can perish, lady. But this is not about it. Disregarding what you may have heard about me, I was a soldier like you. Obeying orders blindly without questioning. However, I was born to hold a sword. You, perhaps, to command.”

Silence hangs in between the two of you. Aemond sees the value you have for your family, but what surprises him is that you don’t share the perspective.

They see the beauty in you, not the iron that lies underneath.

A thought he doesn’t find convenient to share. He stands, having collected enough for his judgement.

You watch as he stops by the door. He knows you have the urge to beg him to spare your family. It is an instinct that many would have in your position. But because you know that he studied you well, you say nothing.

You turn your back on him, disappointing your captor for sparing him of temperamental exhibition.

***

As days turn in weeks, you have been forced to deal with eminent loss of the main purpose that has led you there. Serving your family has not only brought you disgraces or exposed your fragilities to your enemies, but comes to nothing when no news of your father or brothers searching to avenge you reach you.

“A soldier is replaceable, whether by blood or not”, says Aemond.

This evening you two are dining together at his privy royal chambers. You realize the king is a lonely man with unseen scars. Like you.

“You have offended my honor and disgraced my pride”, you speak softly as you take wine to your lips. It’s sweet and part of you wishes it to be poisonous. “Until when do you intend to break my spirit?”

When Aemond raises his eyes to meet yours, your soul is perturbed. You wish you could look away, but not even vengeance is a scheme tolerable by your mind now.

“Despite the circumstances, I wish you had not seen me as such”, he speaks behind the glass he takes to his lips. “I believe there’s much to gain in here.”

“What’s there to gain?”

“Liberty.”

“By what means?”

No answer comes. As you now start to study him, you come to see him as not the villain many folks had moulded him to, but not the hero either. Somewhere in between.

Aemond doesn’t say. Silence again hangs in between you, but this time it has not the same shades of awkwardness.

By the end of the dinner, he is leading you back to your quarters. He sees that you still shake when he takes your hand.

“Lady Y/N…”

You look at him, deprived of your pride.

“Y-Yes?”

“This would all be different had you not openly rebelled against me on behalf of phantoms. I sought about the whereabouts of the princes myself and didn’t find them. Why letting yourself be the pawn of others game?”

You lower your eyes so he doesn’t see the depth of melancholy that has hammered these questions long ago, but the king lifts your chin, there gently holding it.

“What other choice did I have? You, of all, should understand what is like to be tied to the family. Have you never sacrificed anything for them?”

Aemond contemplates you in silence, words that echo that fatidic night where his mother claimed Lucerys’s eye for the loss he suffered.

“I have”, he admits. “More than you will ever know.”

A ghostly smile is seen forming shyly on your lips.

“Then we are not different. Soldiers, like you said.”

And then you stop by the door. Looking back at him, you find the king staring at you. Why, this time, does his intent stare shake you? Why do the parallels between you two bring something more?

Worse is, why does your prison doesn’t feel like one anymore?

***

Aemond leaves the council, certain that no more rebellions will spread. There had been no more words from Pyke, though he’s more than aware that the remaining of your brothers might attempt something in not a near future for he’s been informed that they plan another sack at Lannisport.

In that order, he instructs his spy to pay enough gold to have the Greyjoys protecting the bays of Westeros if they occasionally let go of supporting names that are nothing but a memory of days long put to rest.

However, a question remains: what to do with you?

***

You are allowed to walk freely through the castle. At first this intrigues you. As you love the unknown, you occasionally lose your fear as you start to explore this new environment.

But when going to the gardens and there spotting the sea, your heart aches. As you contemplate those calm waters, you wonder why your father had sent you in such a suicidal mission. He knew you had won previously in placid seas. It was never prudent to combat in ugly storms.

Such are your thoughts that you do not see him coming. Aemond has realized that for a long while he hasn’t come to enjoy a feminine companion, gotten now used to you.

Like a hawk in guard, he sets his good eye to scrutiny over you. This time, your beauty captivates his sight. Your y/c hair, falling down to the mid of your back, is only partially tied according to the local fashion; he notices it’s cleaner and better brushed too. As the sun lights on it, it makes it shine in almost a different shade of y/c.

The gown you dress is silk made and it slips delicately in your body, shaping your curves. Aemond’s good eye notices your hips, how firm they are. He thinks you look good in red and black, the colors of his house. This perception makes him smirk unconsciously.

Feeling you have been under observation, you promptly turn in defense mood, admonishing yourself for letting your guards down, until you see it’s the king, your captor, who’s been the observer.

“Staring is rude”, you do not know how else to greet him and curtsying is not an option; this means that you are subduing to his authority, and as much as you are thankful for his clemency to you, you still have your pride.

Aemond notices it, which amuses. Nothing different that what would have he done, had he been in your shoes.

“Not greeting your king properly is as well”, he remarks. “I thought that even the Greyjoys had some manners.”

You scoff at him in defiance.

“Who do you take us for? Barbarians?”

“No”, Aemond wrings his hands behind his back in his usual composed posture. “Only a folk who is often on combat with their own kin when not assaulting other shores.”

“Please”, you snarl in response. “Says the one who came to power after murdering a few of his own kin.”

Any sign of humor dissipates of the king’s eyes. Darkness casts its shadow upon his face and your smirk is instantly wiped off yours. You instantly regret saying it so, even though you cannot understand why.

“Do not speak of matters that you don’t understand”, the king addresses you in a cold tone.

“Then you should not judge a life that you never lived.”

No one admits defeat. Pride takes victory, thus separating one from the other. For the moment.

***

But your remorse begins to hammer against your conscience. You know if you wanted to make your way, you would. Perhaps seducing the king to buy your ticket to liberty.

As days turn into months and these begin to slowly turn into another year, no signs of the Greyjoys in avenging you shows that there is no point in going back home.

Have you been tamed? You fear to find the answer. It’s when you come for him.

“I need to find His Grace”, you ask Ser Criston, his closest advisor.

The knight looks down upon you and you detest to feel small by this man’s gaze. I’m still a Kraken’s daughter. But you keep the thought to yourself.

“He’s occupied at the moment.”

Sounds come from the king’s bedchambers and you narrow your eyes at what you hear. Why are you flinching upon hearing these scandalous noises?

You do not answer the knight. Lifting your chin, you storm out, perhaps prompted to do something very impulsive.

Which is, for now, getting yourself drunk. Now familiarized with the kitchen and collecting a few friends amongst the servants, you get yourself some good bottles to yourself.

“I do not think wise that you should drink alone, my lady”, a maid responsible to look after you named Gisla tells you concerned.

“Who cares if wine takes my breath away, dear? I am forsaken by all, a prisoner whose life turned into dust.”

As you lock yourself in your bedchambers, you get to wonder why the possibility that the king has found lovers to warm his bed should affect you.

Trying to dissipate these uninviting thoughts, you begin to unlace the gown he gifted you, ready to toss it in fire. Pouring wine in the glass, you try to release your caged spirit in the best way you can.

Now wearing nothing more than undergarments, you open the window in search of fresh air. Moon rises high at sky and when looking at the reflection it casts down the sea, melancholy strikes again.

Having calmed your temper, you start to reason with yourself. Who are you now? A memory that remains, a survivor long forsaken? As you taste the sweet flavor of red wine—Dornish, you are sure—you don’t see the king getting to your chambers.

Aemond is dressed in his usual robes, but looking somehow less than a royal. He throws his cape at the seat, his good eye scrutinizing over your melancholy. Almost twelve months have passed and somehow one remains unreachable for the other.

Under moonlight, he spots a free spirit caged. A woman born to rule, his other half in another life if defeat was meant to him. He did to her what others would do to him. And he realizes how unjust he was.

To secure his throne, he did what he must. But growing used to you, he refuses to let you go. The mere thought of you abandoning him is… unacceptable.

Nevertheless, the king wishes to compensate you. Desire arises, sparked by perhaps his utmost selfishness in keeping you with him.

Or perhaps you are only a gift by the Gods to put an end to this misery. His head is heavy with the crown he wears, a burden that tests his limits and feeds his ambitions.

Yet, all is set aside when he looks at you. Slowly he comes behind you. Sensing an enigmatic presence behind you, you abruptly turn only to find him this close to you.

“Lord king! Your Grace!”, you exclaim out of short breath.

“I see we are welcomed properly now, my lady”, he never noticed until now how deep your y/c eyes are, as if sea is calling him. “I have missed you.”

You scoff, trying to find a way out of his arms, but Aemond doesn’t let you to.

“Will you please let me go?”

“Nay. I was prepared to do so, but I am a selfish man, Y/N. I care about you.”

You clench your jaw, frustrated. So many men have been pushed away, despised and looked down by you, but this king… When you look up, you are trapped.

“You care not!”, your voice betrays your spiritual state. “You have been whoring!”

Aemond’s eye twinkles with amusement. He is now holding your wrists as he pushes you against the wall, his knee gently parting your legs. You feel a strange ache burning your womanhood, rising to your chest.

“What makes you think I was?”

His long, slander pale fingers wrap around your fingers, eyeing your chest with lust, perceiving the hardened nipples under the white nightgown you dress. Then he raises his eyes only to meet your inexpressible face completely red.

“I… It doesn’t matter how I think when it’s a fact”, you try to protest, but it dies incomplete in your throat the moment Aemond gently rubs his knee against your entrance.

You should not enjoy this, but by the Kraken, here is no ordinary man.

“And if it was? Why would you care?”, he is pleased to find some reaction in your eyes at the moment he speaks with his husky voice, a positive effect of him over you.

“I don’t”, you squeak as he continues doing what he’s been doing with his knee.

“Deny me, then. Send me away the way you sent your suitors all before”, Aemond defies you, aroused as you begin to rub against his knee, willingly this time.

Eyes locked in one gaze, no one is ready to surrender. Yet.

“My king should know better whom you speak to.”

“One day you’ll wake up with regrets if I leave.”

You move closer to take hold of his long face, fingertips daringly touching his cheeks, up to his eye—but despite your staring you don’t touch the eye patch. Letting them slip to his silvery hair, wrapping your fingers around his locks, pulling him closer to you.

“Will you dare to leave me, Aemond Targaryen?”

His eyelashes barely open as his lips remain close to yours, his left hand holding your waist as his right one leaves your neck, slipping vaguely and purposely over your breasts before resting over your waist.

“Will you stay, Y/N Greyjoy?”

When you dare to remove his eye-patch, Aemond surprises you by not fighting away your curiosity. Knowing how this means he trusts in you, it’s enough to knock down every other barrier you’ve held up to him.

“Must be exhausting to repress your sentiments to this anti-hero”, he stares at you intently.

“It is”, you gasp, spreading your legs as his hand finally moves under the skirt of your nightgown. But he doesn’t make to your core, not yet, which makes you mewl.

Aemond side smirks at you, waiting to bend you to his will. You barely breathe, but this time you turn the tables by letting another hand finding the way to his pants.

“My lady!”

“You did not take me as a damsel, did you?”, you chuckle, even though he sees you are misleading in your eyes.

In truth, as you feign a confidence you don’t have, all you did was having a limited experience with men. So you did know some things as he can tell by the form your fingers skillfully unlace his pants and…

“Shit!”, Aemond curses.

You giggle quietly, appreciating the mix of shock and libidinous in his wide-eyed gaze. It feels good to have his length throbbing against your hand, how you manage to have him under your control.

It feels so good to deflect him to you, to have captured your captor.

“Gods…”, his moans are sensually low, the pleasure stamped in his features making you wet in your legs.

What is meant to be an instrument of domination is now domineering you. And oh you want more… But then, you stop.

“Y/N…” Aemond groans in between annoyance and disbelief.

“I cannot do this”, you say, detesting to break the spell, but then…

He gives you a quizzical look, perhaps thinking many possibilities of why you are doing this to him after he let himself be so crudely open to you.

Precisely why you are surprising him again when you tell him.

“I am not your whore, Aemond. You either make me your wife and queen, or my life ends right here, right now”, you indicate with your head in direction to the opened window. “I am a Kraken’s daughter. I am the sea, I cannot be caged for longer.”

Maybe it’s the wine, but you are scarcely afraid of holding back a character that hasn’t fitted you for long.

“I grew to love you and even though I am forsaken by my family, more painful would be if I were deserted out of your heart.”

Aemond’s features sooth before your words. Indeed he’s been taken by surprise, a deed few would have claimed to do.

“You could have said this earlier”, says he, shortening the distance between you two, cupping your face with his. “I meant not to dishonor you, my lady.”

“I was afraid you would not…”

“…love you?”, he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “I fucking do. Hence why I said I’m not prepared to let you escape. I cannot do so. And I am ready to make you my queen.”

One smile is enough to firm the peace between hearts in array.

***

• I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero…

Aemond admires the wild beauty that sleeps next to his side. His queen, at long last announced before the whole realm notwithstanding the disapproval of his council, his wife.

He begins to kiss your face, before burying his face against your hair. No more sorrow when your sea salt scent envolves him in a jolt of happiness never before experienced… not before Alys.

No more past to daunt his heart and torment his mind as his tongue slips to your ear, biting your earlobe and sliding to your neck, his hand pressing against your waist. His eyes remain glued at your peaceful, serene face, despite the shivers that begin on your skin and, as he discreetly pulls off the blankets, sees the exposed nipples hardening.

Aemond is careful not to wake you yet. Admiring your nude frame as his lips move to your neck, he keeps in mind the events of the day before. No protest came from Pyke as one of them is crowned their queen. But you are still resented to write them letters, despite the efforts of your brothers in renewing a direct alliance with the crown—to the Lannisters’ preoccupation.

The king is not here to please anybody, but you. He recollects how beautiful you were in a green, silk gown, appropriated for summer feasts. His mother’s tiara was placed above your head, and your hair down reinforced your sparkling beauty.

As his mouth leaves bruises against your skin, you move lightly, making incomprehensible noises. Aemond smirks, slowly turning over your body, always careful when doing so.

Contemplating your nudity under his gaze, he recollects the night before—and the nights beforehand where he took you as his wife, never able to leave your body, remembering how you mewled under his touch, how humbled you were when you begged.

“My lady likes to be commanded in bed”, he said in the occasion.

“Only you has possessed this right”, so you snapped in between short breaths.

Smiling at the retrospective moment, his lips now move delicate to mouth out your nipples, finally awaking you as his fingers move down to your womanhood.

“Oh Aemond!”, you cry out in pleasure, eyes open with despair, as your body reacts like a big wave sets to hit the shore violently.

“Yes, my lady?”, he takes his time in each nipple until your cries get louder, all the whilst his now two fingers make way deep inside you, already familiar with the walls that clench around it, the spot that is soon making you call his name.

And then…

“I need you!”, you whimper.

Your wishes are prompted complied. What a good way to start your tenure, you remember thinking. When looking at you, Aemond Targaryen knows he is not merely a king, but a man who finally found love in his lifetime.

[spade-riddles]

I presumed the night shift was a reference to Anti-Hero. When Taylor sings "When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room". The graveyard shift is the night shift.

Daylight savings is borrowed time. You add an extra hour to the night in order to gain an extra hour of sunlight during the day. To me this seems like what Taylor did with Travis. She took another beard (which I don't think she intended to do after Joe - even Matty I think was supposed to be a May-hem only piece of performance art, to erase Joe and cover her through TTPD) to see her through the Eras Tour. After which she plans to step into the daylight and let it all go.

So basically what the message is saying is she'll meet someone she ghosted, in that artificially-extended extra hour of dark before the dawn. I don't know if that would be Karlie or us, but I can't think who else would fit. It doesn't feel like anything happened during these last shows, but they were filmed. And we still don't know how Taylor spent Halloween, in that same time frame. Maybe this message is about something we don't know yet.

I don't know where people are getting the idea Travis had anything to do with the message though. If anything, I'd be more inclined to look at the double use of "1" and see an "11" in that. It's giving "meet me after dark" Willow witchy vibes, and the mention of the party calls back to a 🎃 message about the end of everything too. It all seemed pretty on-brand to me.

Great ask! Thank you.

Here is the original post that is referenced:

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

<<Previous<<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Izzy contemplates the future and whether or not you have a place within his.

A/N: You didn't think I was going to make you wait until the voting was over for more content, did you?!

Content Warning: Alcohol abuse, mention of injuries, trauma, mentions of drowning, death and blood. I think that's everything. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. NOR DO I CLAIM THE PROPERTY OF TAYLOR SWIFT'S MUSIC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=============================

'I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser.'

The silence was worse than the screams, he concluded, as he stared with troubled eyes at the still full rum bottle. His usual go-to method was drinking his problems away, and yet, this time, he could not even bring himself to bring the bottle to his lips. He knew the taste well. Knew the satisfying burn it would bring, as it slipped down his throat. Hurtful enough to numb to myriad of emotion that swelled and sloshed within him. Still, not a drop entered his bloodstream. Aside from the one glass he had shared with Edward, Izzy Hands was completely sober. Gods, it was tortuous.

'Midnights become my afternoons.'

Just a small sip. It did not even have to be the full bottle! Despite every fibre of his being screaming at him to partake in a drink, something deep within Izzy's consciousness willed him to remain alert. For once, it was not for the sake of the crew that he remained vigilant, as he so often did on moonlit nights upon the ocean waves, when he should have been fast asleep in his cabin. What could he say? He did not explicitly trust Stede fucking Bonnet's merry band of twats. On more than one occasion, he had discovered the nightwatch snoozing, instead of scanning the horizon. They had improved as a crew, no doubt about it but they still lacked the discipline of their more professional counterparts.

'When my depression works the graveyard shift.'

No, no, Izzy did not allow himself to succumb to his usual whim of finding solace in the amber liquid. He wanted his senses to stay sharp, not hazy with a rum-induced stupor. There was no horizon to watch, no threat of the British, no fairies- gods, the crew were obsessed with fucking fairies- to check for under Frenchie's bed each night. No, what Izzy was bracing himself for, was the eventual knock at his door.

'All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.'

Who would they send? Maybe Edward? Surely, not Bonnet. No, he would have his hands full consoling the rest of the crew. He could almost hear the sounds now, the wailing. The tears. The general cacophony of desperation. It would undoubtedly haunt him until the end of his days. On the quietest of nights,  when the crashing of waves were not loud enough to drown his demons, Izzy was sure the echo of grief would reverberate through his mind, forcing him to relive the moment his life came crashing down around him.

'I should not be left to my own devices.'

The silver-haired pirate had not been present when the crew had found you in the hold. It had only been after saving Pete from a the fearsome waves of Poseiden's wrath, that Izzy had stumbled below deck- water-logged and desperate to see you again. That was when he had heard the commotion and followed the sound of Bonnet's surprisingly commanding voice.

There had been so much blood. Too much blood. Izzy had seen enough gore in his lifetime. Hell, he had had to keep his own guys from spilling out of his body on more than one occasion. Heh, he would never forget the look of fear on Edward's face, when the First Mate had almost bled out there and then on the deck of the Queen Anne's Revenge. But the incident in the storage hold was a completely different matter. It was your- well, a mixture of yours and Frenchie's- blood, that had stained the flooring of the ship. Your blood that had drenched Stede fucking Bonnet's fucking linen shirt.

'They come with prices and vices.'

Gods, just the memory of it made him want to hurl. This, this is why he usually drank. With alcohol in his system, Izzy would be able to suppress the unwanted memories, even just for a short while. But no, no! He had to keep his wits about him. He had to! If...

Fuck, please let it be an 'if' and not a 'when', he begged to every, single deity he could think of in that moment. If you succumbed to your injuries, he wanted to hear the née stone cold sober. He did not want to booze to take the edge off the inevitable heartache he would feel, knowing you had died without knowing you were loved. By the grace of Calypso, that man adored every inch of your very being. Mind, body and soul.

'I end up in crisis (tale as old as time).'

He should have been there, he cursed himself. Guilt eating him alive from the inside out. He should have been there to keep you safe. Or at least, he should have been the one to find you. To patch up your wounds, keep you conscious until they reached dry land. Oh, how he would have forgone all his usual composure. Without hesitation, you would have been bundled in his arms, anything to keep you warm enough to stave off the chill that came with blood loss. Izzy would have kept you close, as he coxed you to stay awake for him. He did not care if the crew thought him gone soft. In that moment, he would had indulged you in your every whin, if it meant you keeping your eyes open for him. Hell, he would have sung you every melody under the sun, if you so wished it.

'I wake up screaming from dreaming.'

But no, it had been Spriggs of all people, who had been the one to discover you. Gods, Izzy might have held a particular contempt for the young man but in that moment, he had been glad that the Scribe had been the one to find you. Though the First Mate would never admit it aloud, Spriggs was one of the more competent pirates aboard the Revenge, he had done well alerting those below deck of your predicament. Hell, he had made a good call fetching Bonnet, of all people. Stede fucking Bonnet.

Izzy almost felt indebted to the twat for the way he had managed to stem your wound and stopped you from bleeding out there in the hold. He had even gotten Frenchie stable enough to survive the rest of the storm. Whether the man lived or died now was purely dependant on the doctor's skillset.

It did not matter. Nome of it mattered. The past could not be changed. All Izzy had was the present and all he cared about, was if you too had a future.

'One day I'll watch as you're leaving.'

And then it came. The dreaded knock on the door. The resounding thuds turned Izzy's blood to ice. He was not ready- he would never be ready- to face whatever news awaited him beyond the thin piece of wood. The chorus of cries has not begun to fill the air yet. Perhaps he would be the first to be told. Maybe they were breaking the news to everyone individually, to allow a gradual wave of anguish to sweep through the crew, as opposed to a sudden, blunt force inducement of suffering.

'Cause you got tired of my scheming.'

Ambling over to the door, Izzy knew it was only a matter of time before the truth would out. No matter how much he tried to keep the news at bay. Oh, how the silver-haired pirate wanted to ruminate in the pre-grief a little longer. To play pretend and lie to himself some more. To convince himself that you were still alive. That your heart still beat it's steady rhythm. A song he knew so intimately. But Israel Hands was a self-described realist. He could not continue to entrench himself in fictional delusions, it was time for him to face the heartbreak dead on. To be brave one more time. He could not love you in this lifetime. However, he could treat your death with the respect it deserved.

'(For the last time)'

So, he braced himself for the teary face of his messenger. Prepared himself to hear the voice break and the words, "they're gone." Izzy said a silent goodbye to the technicolour world because without your vibrancy, it would surely fade to grey in a matter of moments. Despite all his efforts to steel himself against the worst, nothing could have prepared Izzy for what happened next.

'It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me.'

[wouldvebeensweet]

i can't believe taylor swift wrote "when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people i've ghosted stand there in the room" and just expected me to move on with my life

[fernandoswarcrimes]

Anti-Hero x Matthew Tkachuk

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 2.6k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Elena had always grown up to be a smart girl, well that’s what she told herself. Matthew on the other hand got older but seemed to get dumber unlike Elena. The two were inseparable growing up due to their mothers being best friends.

It was three in the morning and she found herself standing in the kitchen quietly stirring the cup of milk and honey she made. Elena hoped it would help her fall back asleep, but it was no use. Her midnights had now become her afternoons it seemed like. Anytime she closed her eyes all she saw was everyone she had ever let down staring back at her, so she figured she’d might as well get up.

She had gotten good at hiding it, disguising it as she just couldn’t sleep.

“Can’t sleep again?” Matthews' groggy voice asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. He had woken up and realized Elena wasn’t in bed so he figured she was probably in the kitchen again.

“Something like that.” Elena mumbled, not wanting to let him in on how her mind was tormenting her. It was something she never wanted the boy to know about. He would think she’s broken, unfixable, not happy.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked as he walked over to her as she took another sip of her milk. “I’ll be okay, I’ll come back to bed in a bit. I think my milk and honey will help.” Elena whispered as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head before nodding making his way back to their bedroom. She knew he had an early practice in the morning and it made her feel worse that he was awake and worried about her instead of sleeping.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Elena was a lot of things, positive, helpful, caring but she shouldn’t be left to her own devices for too long. The thoughts inside her head come with prices and vices that she didn’t want anybody knowing about she’d end up having a full fledged crisis if anybody did. This was her own problem to deal with, nobody else’s.

Not even her boyfriend.

The rain was harsh against the windows of their apartment as lightning lit up the room every few seconds. The storms would normally garner Elena a peaceful sleep but not tonight.

She doesn’t remember what started it but Matthew had been off that day. They both had been walking on eggshells around each other for the past week and it was finally about to come to light.

“I just don’t know why you're acting like this and shutting me out.” Elena said as she walked in their bedroom after him.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Matthew had muttered which caused Elena to furrow her brows at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean Matt?” She asked wanting to know what he meant by that, she had a feeling she knew but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I can’t do it anymore Elena. I’m done okay? I can’t do this if you don’t want help! It’s not fair to both of us. This relationship is supposed to be equal and you won’t let me help you, you just shut me out.” Matthew said, running his hands through his hair frustrated. He had tried helping her through whatever it was she was going through but she kept pushing him away and he didn’t have any fight left in him.

She blankly stared at him as she watched him pack a bag and give her one last look begging her to just say something or do something, explain to him what was going on but she didn’t. He then shook his head and walked out, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Elena woke up with a loud gasp as she sat up on her elbows, drenched in sweat, looking around startled. Her breathing was heavy as she recounted the nightmare she just had being pulled awake by the door slamming shut in the dream. One day if she wasn’t careful she would have to watch Matthew leave her for real because he would get tired of her brushing things off and not letting him in for the last time when she knew all he wanted to do was be there for her and help. She needed to get help.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

If it was one thing Matthew was used to, it was being a problem. Even from a young age he was dubbed as a problem child which everyone thought he’d eventually grow out of but that was asking for a miracle. He got used to it though, reveled in it even. Which didn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the league who agreed, seeing as he got dubbed one of the “shit starters” next to Konency.

It was a game against the Kings, he and Drew Doughty had been at each other's throats yet again.

Which was never a good thing.

“I don’t see how that girlfriend of yours puts up with you when you’re such a little shit. She deserves someone much more mature rather than an ignorant shit head kid like you.” Drew had muttered to him when they both bent down for the face off.

All bets were off after that comment, the older player had been in his ear all night about Elena and he had enough of it. As soon as the Puck dropped Matthew dropped his gloves and took a swing at the older player.

“You have no right to say shit about her! Or our relationship!” Matthew shouted as the refs grabbed him under the arms pulling him away from Drew who was just laughing knowing he’d easily get a reaction like that out of Matthew.

He could hear the crowd booing him as the ref guided him to the box. They were already down by three so this was just great. He sat down on the bench and threw his helmet on the ground frustrated at the fact Drew so easily got a reaction out of him. This was not how tonight’s game was supposed to go.

Matthew grabbed his bag as he got out of the car and slowly made his way to the front door, taking out his keys and unlocked the door. The winger could hear the TV slowly playing as he walked in; he sat his bag down and slipped his shoes off letting out a quiet sigh.

“Babe? You home?” Elena called out as she glanced over the back of the couch. “Yeah, I think I’m just going to shower and head to bed. It was a rough game.” Matthew replied, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading upstairs. If he didn’t look her in the eyes he wouldn’t have to see the possible look of disappointment on her face. He knew it had to be exhausting, always rooting for a guy like him, the unlikable, the problem. He wasn’t a golden boy, an underdog, or even a rookie anymore. He had solidified his place in the league and now had to live with the consequences of his own actions.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Matthew took the summer to think things over, his little brother became the captain of his team but Matthew had been stuck with the A for the last few years. He felt like he was the ugly duckling that people loved to hate. Trade rumors we’re running wild as they usually did during the summer. It’s when teams unloaded people they didn’t want for the new pick of the litter or better players they could get their hands on.

“Maybe it’s time to look at other options.” His agent told him when they had a meeting. Matthew was too much of a nuisance to be deemed captain of the flames, they wanted someone level headed and calm. Two things he clearly wasn’t so it was better that they looked for a team that would want him.

“Maybe you’re right.” Mathhew spoke with a depressed shrug as he thought it over, he had been talking to Johnny. His friend was in the same boat with the team. Feeling unwanted and misused.

“We do have an offer from Florida.” His agent spoke which piqued Matthews interest. It was a favorite place of Elena’s, he vividly remembers spending summers with her and her family down there almost every year. This could be his ticket out of Canada. He knew they weren’t gonna give him the captaincy not with how hot headed he was. It got him right in the gut when he found that out. But he wouldn’t let it get to him.

“Johnnys going to take the offer from Columbus, so if Florida’s offer is a good one then I’ll take it. I need to get out of here before they run me into the ground.” Matthew sighed knowing it was time to leave or grow to hate the sport he loved. They could kick him while he was down all they wanted but it wouldn’t kill him. He was going to show Calgary exactly what they were letting go and losing and he was going to make it everybody’s problem.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

“I’m just that good, it’s not my fault you suck at golf bro.” Matthew shrugged as he looked at his younger brother. He had switched their score sheets when Brady wasn’t looking and was lying through his teeth.

“You’d be a good congressman, you know?” Elena joked with a grin as she watched him lie straight to Brady’s face that he didn’t switch their golf scores when he had. Brady wasn’t gullible by any means but her boyfriend was just that good of a gaslighter sometimes especially when it came to Brady.

Matthew couldn’t help but smile back as he shook his head at her joke as they both walked off after Brady back to the golf cart to head to the next hole. He knew he was a good liar; it's how he got himself out of trouble sometimes.

It was later that week while on a roadie when it hit him. A nightmare that would forever haunt him.

It was another bad game that Matthew came home from. He had gotten ejected and suspended three games for getting into a bad fight. As soon as he walked in the door he noticed something was off, the tv wasn’t playing and there was a suitcase in the hall. Alarm bells started going off as he dropped his bag and called out.

“Babe?” Matthew called out as he walked through the house but stopped in the kitchen doorway when he noticed her standing by the island with her arms crossed. “Hey..” he said shakily, “what’s going on why is there a suitcase by the door? You didn’t tell me you were going on a trip.”

“Because I’m not Matthew.” Elena spoke flatly. That made him cringe slightly, she never called him Matthew, it was always Matt or Matty. “I’m leaving.” She bit out.

“What..” he whispered, it felt like he had just gotten shot.

“I'm leaving. I can’t deal with this shit anymore. It’s all the time now you can’t stay out of the box and now you’re getting suspensions? When will it end Matthew? You’re twenty five years old, no wonder Brady got the captaincy before you.” She scoffed as she picked up her keys shoving past him as she grabbed her suitcase and swung the front door open.

Matthew could only stand there in silence as he watched her leave the door slamming loudly behind her making him flinch.

The St. Louis native gasped awake from the terrible nightmare that just plagued his mind. The fear of losing Elena, his best friend, his one true love. Hockey was a big thing in his life, but Elena? Elena was the one good thing he had and he didn’t want to let her go; he'd give up hockey before that ever happened.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees…

The Panthers had made it to the playoffs. They had managed to beat the Bruins four to three in the first round, which was a shocker to most since Boston usually made it to the finals in the playoffs so to get taken out by a team like the Panthers was unheard of.

Then it was the second round where they went up against the Leafs, it was another easy four to one win. The leafs had made it further than they had in the past but they were no match for the Matthew and the run the panthers were on.

He was their saving Grace, their problem child, and they embraced it. He was the problem, it was him. Everybody agreed he was the player of the series, anytime he was on the ice it was dangerous for the other team, scoring goals, scoring in OT, you name it he was doing it with ease.

They were getting one step closer to the finals, they just had to go up against Carolina who had bested the Islanders and the Devils. It was like everyone lost their light as Florida swept them in just four straight games back to back.

The Panthers had made it to the Stanley Cup Final.

Though it wouldn’t be everything, Vegas was on a high unlike no other and all the injuries were catching up to Florida. Vegas had managed to win four games and Florida only managed to win just one. That was the end, they had lost the final. Everything had finally hit Matthew. He had been playing through the injuries wanting to help the team as much as he could, even having Brady help him get up and get dressed because he couldn’t do it himself. He had an inkling that Elena knew about the injury but hadn’t said anything knowing how stubborn he was.

Elena though, his Elena, was there when he got off the ice with open arms ready to nurse him back to health, it made him think that maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all. It was all just in his head like it was in hers, they both needed each other and would do anything for the ones they loved.

“You did so well, I’m proud of you. I truly am.” Elena spoke softly as she gently hugged him not wanting to hurt him. Thankfully Brady was there with her ready to help him back to the locker room so he could change and they could all head home. It made him think maybe being the anti-hero wasn’t so bad after all.

It was him

He was the problem

and everybody oh so loudly agreed.

[jhilsara]

Tie Me to You/ Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Mika and the incubi have a successful party. But what are Devils?

Word Count: 2.6k

<Last | Next>

Chapter Warnings: Small gun violence

This fanfic will explore heavier emotions and will have eventual smut. Minors DNI

Can also be found on AO3 X

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift

The house is finally empty. Everyone has disappeared and Mika is sitting on the staircase, head resting on Damien’s thigh as he sits behind her. Matthew and Sam flank her on the left and right. James and Erik are standing, but just barely. Their bodies lean on the staircase banister with their ties undone. The group is drained physically and emotionally.  

“So... that went well?” Matthew’s voice asks hesitantly, looking up at James.  

James lets out a heavy sigh and nods, “As well as it could have.”  

“Oh, was the bombarding of questions too much for his royal highness?” Sam spits out sarcastically.  

James twitches at that, but doesn’t give into Sam’s tease, “Not too awful, just draining...” James takes his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose. “How was the rest of your night?” He shifts the attention to Mika.  

She lazily looks up at James, unwilling to really feel motivated to move. She shrugs, “Better after my father left.” She murmurs.  

Sam groans and leans back on his arms, “Fuck your dad!”  

Matthew sits up a little more, leaning over to look at Mika better, “What happened? I didn’t know something went down?”  

Erik crosses his arms in frustration, brow furrowed, “Her awful father put his hands on her and left a nasty bruise.” he says irritably.  

Mika feels Damien stiffen behind her as he and Matthew proclaim, “He what?!” in simultaneous disbelief.  

Mika had been so drained she hadn’t even thought about what her father did earlier in the evening. She just wanted to go to bed. It wasn’t the first time her father had put his hands on her, but it was hopefully the last. 

“It’s over, I’m fine, Sam stepped in.” She says dismissively, trying to avoid the topic entirely.  

Damien reaches down and grabs her arm gently, “Can we check it?” he asks softly, in a way that she knows means he’s just trying to be helpful and not make it a spectacle.  

She avoids their eyes but slowly removes the opera glove, exposing the bruise. She hadn’t looked at it since but in the past few hours it’s gotten worse. The disgusting yellow peeking out underneath it all makes her feel nauseous.  

“Oh Mika...” Damien’s voice rings behind her.  

She can’t take the staring and shoves the glove back on. She folds her arms in on herself. Mika tries to make herself disappear, shame filling her chest.  

“It’s over alright? He left and Sam definitely broke his hand.” Mika says, trying to keep her voice light and joking, but the clip to it reveals her resentment.  

“Sam!” James raises his voice giving his younger brother a pointed look. 

Sam snorts avoiding James’ eyes, “I didn’t break it... I just fractured it. Aggressively.” he says with a smirk looking down at Mika, giving her a light nudge with his knee.  

The nonchalant attitude of it all has Mika relaxing again, she feels light laughter bubbling from her chest. It all just seemed so ridiculous after all. A dead rich grandfather, an abusive father, and five strange men who just happened to be incubi? It all just sounded so absurd. Mika couldn’t figure out what her life was anymore. It was insane to think so much could happen in four months.   

 “We should probably clean up...”  

Sam stands and reaches his hand out for Mika, to help her stand.  

A gunshot echoes in the room, loud and terrifying. Before Mika can even register what’s happening, she’s curled up on the stairs, Sam’s bracing himself over her and Damien. Using his body as a shield.  

There’s a pregnant pause before they realize no one is hurt. Sam stands fully to turn towards the door, anger clear on his face.  

Past Sam’s figure, Mika sees two people. If you could call them people, their skin a burning fire red. The two figures standing in the open doorway have her spinning. The male presenting one of the two holds a gun in his hand, as it lazily dangles on his fingers like it’s not a weapon.  

“Honey I’m home~” his voice calls out, its cold and gritty. Making her want to sink lower to the ground.  

Damien moves to stand, keeping Mika positioned behind Sam. “Get out.” Damien says in a clear voice. “This home is protected by holy magic; your powers won’t work here.” Damien says in a voice that is more exasperated than annoyed.  

Mika can tell Damien’s tone irritates the visitor, his eye twitching, “I don’t need this to kill you.” The man stays in a distorted voice. Glowering at the incubi brothers. 

“We’re really not in the fucking mood Malix. Get the fuck out.” Sam growls out stepping closer.  

Malix, the man with bright red skin and white hair, looks unamused. He cocks his brow before looking over Sam from head to toe with a feral smile like a predator. Showing his sharp teeth, ready to bite down.  

“Oh? Sorry, did I barge in on you lot whoring yourselves out like the incubus you are?” he asks with a disgusting cackle leaving his throat.  

Mika is taken aback by what the man says, none the less the fact he barreled into her home. “Excuse me?” She asks, tone offended for the brothers.  

She tries to stand and step past Sam, but his arm keeps her behind him. He won’t budge. “Stay behind me.” He whispers to her lowly.  

Malix, perks up at her voice. He steps forward leaning closer, trying to get a good look at her. His yellow and blood red eyes roam until they land on her face. It’s unsettling to say the least. His feral smile never leaves his face.  

“Oh, is that her? The warlocks kins?” Malix asks with a short high-pitched laugh, “C’mon share her! It’s not nice to keep playthings to yourselves.” He whines out, his gaze piercing into hers. 

Mika grips onto Sam, taking a hesitant step back, she didn’t like how he was looking at her...like she was a meal. She can't move, the piercing red of his glare freezing her. She just clings onto Sam, who in turn has his fists clenched already. 

James steps forward, pushing Malix back and blocking Mika from his line of sight. “She’s protected too you animal.” James hisses out.  

Malix just raises a brow at that, while a smirk crosses his face. “Interesting...” he drawls out.  

The woman who’s with him seems incredibly unamused by all of this. She’s just waiting by the door for him. “Malix.”  She says his name in an irritated tone.  

He whips his head around to her, mouth open to yell but sees the look she’s giving him. Mika can’t see too well, so she misses the silent conversation that seems to be happening between them. Malix just scoffs. 

“We’ll leave... but watch your back outside of,” he gestures his arms widely to the house, “this protective barrier.” He says ‘protective’ like it’s a joke with a heinous laugh.  

He stands tall looking over at them once more, “You’re in our territory incubi.” He turns to leave but hesitates. 

He does a full turn and points his gun at Mika, Sam’s still positioned in front of her, refusing to move.  

It doesn’t protect her from the piercing glare of Malix’s red eyes, staring into her soul, “You too sweetheart, don’t think you’re safe either.”  

Malix pockets his gun before leaving the house. The group of incubi all letting out a breath they were holding.  

Mika’s shaking, she’s looking at the five brothers for answers, but their silence isn’t helpful. Sam turns to look at her, and the rage softens for a moment, to notice her anxiety.  

Tonight, just couldn’t be a normal night.  

“What are they?” Mika finds her voice to ask, she’s trembling. Any joy or reprieve she had from earlier was absolutely gone. Icy fear gripped at her now.  

“Devils... they come from Hell.” Erik spits out disdainfully.  

She pauses, “Then where do you come from?” she asks.  

Mika is realizing how little she truly knows about these five men. Yes, she’s gotten close to them in the past three months, but they almost never talk about their past. She could almost forget they were demons.  

“The Abyssal Plains, demons, come from a different realm.” James states crossing his arms, “We have our own supply of magic and free will. Devils, on the other hand, their magic doesn’t belong to them. They pull their powers from hell, from Satan. They only live to cause chaos, murder, and mayhem to human souls, either here or in Hell.” he tells her in a bitter voice.  

Mika stands there dumbfounded for a moment. There’s too much information for her to take in. Demons are not the same as devils, nor do they come from the same place. They all have magic, but it’s different. On top of all of that, there’s holy magic? She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to comprehend the information overload. 

While her brain feels like it’s going into overdrive, Damien grabs her hand making her look at him. Pausing all thoughts.  

“He can’t hurt you, not with hellborn magic. It’ll be okay.” Damien tries to reassure her. 

She knows he can’t help but read her mind, it’s just on display for him, but she feels guilty that he’s exposed to her raw emotions almost every day. It’s hard enough being in her own head, she can’t imagine juggling everyone else's.  

Sam’s hand lands on her shoulder and he squeezes it, “We’ll kill ‘em.” He tells her confidently.  

 She looks at the group of men wearily but it’s not like she has much of a choice. She has to trust them.  

Mika wakes up the next morning and decides that she was already over the day before it had even begun. She rolls over lazily checking the time on her phone and frowns. It’s too early for her to be awake. She curls herself deeper into her plush blankets and squeezes her eyes shut, hoping for an ounce of more sleep. To drift away for a few more hours. 

She tosses and turns before she undoubtedly settles on the fact, she is unfortunately awake for the day. It didn’t mean she had to be productive.  

While she should get up and clean up downstairs, she can’t find it in herself to bother doing that right now. She gets as comfortable as she can in her bed and finds herself endlessly scrolling away on her phone. 

It’s not until it’s the middle of the afternoon that Mika decides she needs to be a human. She drags herself to the bathroom to quickly shower and brush her teeth. She pulls on her comfiest clothes and goes to the entrance to start cleaning. 

Mika's surprised when she goes to the staircase that it’s already practically spotless. All decorations were gone, the standing tables for the bar were put away, and the floor had looked freshly mopped. She stands there stupefied for a brief moment. They cleaned...? 

She walks towards the kitchen, prepared to do some chores, but once again, clean. The kitchen was practically spotless, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away. Before Mika can think of something else to preoccupy her time, she hears shouting outside. It almost sounds like drill instructions.  

She walks towards the back of the house and through the French doors that leads out to the patio, following the noise. She leans against the open door watching the commotion. All five of the boys were outside and it looked like they were training. At least from what Mika hears Sam barking, it sounds like instructions.  

She watches them perform a four against one fight. Sam being the solo act. He easily dodges their attacks and lands a few punches of his own. Almost dancing around his brothers. Mika watches them for a few more minutes before she decides to interrupt.  

“How long have you guys been out here?” Mika calls out to them. Moving to the edge of the patio. She’s only in some house slippers and she doesn’t plan to step on the dirt after taking a shower.  

The boys all stumble, surprised at her presence. Mika raises a brow at them, looking over how they are clearly exhausted.  

“What time is it?” Matthew asks, he’s bent over hands against his knees trying to catch his breath.  

“Around two, maybe almost three.” she tells him. 

“Long enough. We’ve been out here long enough!” Matthew tells her exasperated as he shoots Sam a glare.  

“We need a break...and food.” James says looking at each of his brothers. He isn’t hunched over like Matthew but he’s taking some shallow breaths.  

Sam huffs in frustration, “I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but we don’t have time for a break!” He bites out harshly.  

Sam’s drenched in sweat, and while he stands tall with his hands on his hips in irritation, Mika can see how tired he is from the slight shake in his muscles. They all desperately need to eat at the very least.  

“You want one too Sam.” Damien outs his brother's thoughts quickly, with a soft smirk of his own.  

Mika snorts in amusement. Sam just rolls his eyes.  

Mika raises her hand to wave them off dismissively, “Go and shower guys, I’ll make lunch!” She turns to go back into the house. Ignore the faint protests she hears. If they spent all morning cleaning and training, she could make them lunch. Fair is fair... even if she feels like she’s doing the least amount of work in the house.  

She’s going through what’s in the kitchen before she lands on just making them sandwiches. It was easy, light, and would at the very least settle their stomachs until a proper dinner.  

Mika gets to work making them some protein filled sandwiches. She also cuts up some vegetables and fruits to put on the side. Giving them something to hopefully make them feel better than they looked. It doesn’t take her a super long time to make all five of them plates.  

She makes herself a late breakfast parfait, with the leftover fruit and yogurt. She eats it before she’s even done making their lunches. Dancing around the kitchen to the music she's softly playing from her phone.   

Mika leaves their plates of food on the dining table for when they’re ready. She was going to study for her finals until dinner. She still had a few more weeks of her degree left, and she wasn’t about to fail now. She just had to get through her business program, and she was starting her masters in the fall. She was more than excited to focus on a path she enjoyed.  

Mika’s so lost in her studies she doesn’t notice the time until it’s well after seven. She makes her way downstairs and sees all five of the men laid out on chairs in the dining room. She pauses at the entryway and looks at them concerned. 

“How about we order dinner?” she suggests looking at the tiredness seeping into them.   

There’s a faint murmur of agreement, James goes off to do some work in the office and Erik plans to lie in his bed until food arrives. Mika drags Damien, Matthew, and Sam with her to the living room.  

“If you’re going to rot it might as well be comfortable.” she suggests. 

She sits in the middle of the couch with Matthew and Damien flanking her sides. Sam chooses to lounge on the floor, his head resting against her legs. Mika is casually carding her hands through Sam’s hair, Matthew is fully laying on her shoulder, and Damien’s draped over the arm rest half-awake watching the movie Mika put on to pass the time. The four of them are so comfortable they almost fall asleep before their dinner comes.  

She’s thankful that this was an easy solution. It’s been a hectic weekend, and she would rather spend her Sunday trying to relax. Their problems could wait until Monday like the rest of the world.