#ending up swept away as well by the numbness

[fredthedemonpartner]

Having dissociation be your main coping mechanism for your entire childhood and knowing that you’ve had many traumatic experiences feels like your memory is a bookshelf that should be full. Each memory is supposed to be a book and your shelves should be full, but at some point you took out every book with the letter Q in the title. But all the books still stand straight despite the gaps and on a good day you can convince yourself that enough are there for it to be fine, everyone has books that get lost or damaged or never make it on the shelf to begin with, until you talk to someone and they say something that reminds of a book you know you had but when you go to pick it off the shelf there’s a gap where it should go. But you know the title didn’t have a Q so why isn’t it there, then you realize that as a kid you couldn’t really tell the difference between Q and O. And looking at the shelf suddenly it’s a lot more bare than you realized, too much to be explained away by your general untidiness and leaving books stacked to the side out of order, at least you can still find those ones if you remember they’re there. You can see the shape and size of the missing books and sometimes you can even guess what they contained based on the bits of titles or authors you vaguely remember, but the poor copies you try to make stand out worse than the original gaps. They’re like folders with what little information you can remember that are far too wide and thin to fit well on the shelf, leaning and sticking out past the spines around them. And your fingers catch on them as you run them along the spines of the books, interrupting and frustrating your browsing occasionally even giving you paper cuts. And now you find yourself shelving new books on the most recent shelf, holding a book with Q in the title, stuck between the urge to get rid of it asap and the fear of losing it forever that makes you want to sit down and read it over and over, annotating the pages and writing a whole separate copy just in case because you’d rather have a thousand paper cuts than look at another shelf with more empty spaces than occupied ones.

#in this example of course Q represents traumatic or upsetting memories #O being the ones that could’ve been happy or neutral but too close in time or feeling to something traumatic #ending up swept away as well by the numbness #this is just my experience #especially now that I’m in therapy and trying to figure out where behaviors and triggers come from oftentimes using context clues or guesses #dissociative amnesia #dissociation #I haven’t been diagnosed with any dissociative disorder at this point so I’m not going to claim any of them #but I am autistic and wasn’t accommodated until I actively chose to start doing it for myself at 17 #which means i probably wouldn’t have survived without dissociating near constantly #so ofc nearly every trauma got tossed onto the pile of memories and sensations I was already getting rid of

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 9

part 1 | part 8 | ao3

cw: medical emergency

He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—

“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”

“It’s not for her.”

There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?

“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.

“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”

“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”

His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?

Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”

Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.

“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."

Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.

When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”

Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.

Steve takes another breath.

Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”

“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”

They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…

Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.

“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard." "Jesus." "Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”

Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.

A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”

Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”

“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.

Something almost kind. Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.

The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”

They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.

—

part 10

okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #st fic #my writing #my fic

[peterparkersnose]

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

-

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller headcanon #joel miller one shot #peterparkersnosework

[seelestia]

Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

.

.

.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, jan 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin angst #zhongli angst #seelestial.inks #dylm.series 🍵

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June part iii

But if you try sometime you’ll find

You get what you need

Leo turned his face up to the sun. It was quiet, save for the waves lapping at the boat’s edge and the rocks of his cove. And it was his cove. It had always been his cove, ever since he’d been allowed to take the boat out on his own. It was nearing evening but it was still warm and the sun still reached its soft fingers out across the water to touch his face.

All his thoughts were drowned out by the tree frogs, with their monotone song, and the wind in the trees. He looked at the fishing rods over the side. He’d caught nothing, but it was mostly a meditation anyway, or at least a form of one. Setting everything up, and then settling into the idea of a couple hours alone on the water. Cool, sweet iced tea and his Mama’s ham and mustard sandwiches.

He should go. It would be dark soon, and no one wanted to be near the rocks in the dark. He pulled everything inside the boat—rods, anchor. The motor hummed to life with ease, and he took his time, not ready to leave the dimming sun, or the way the wind rippled his t-shirt across his damp back.

When he turned towards the marina, all he could see were the bright crystals of the reflecting water. As he got closer though, squinting, he saw that there was someone standing at the end of their private dock. A silhouette of the sunset. Someone with a tilt to their head, a set to their shoulders, that Leo would know anywhere.

~

One Week Earlier

Remus went to his knees when Madison Square Garden erupted around him. He went to his knees when Leo fell, glove still outstretched but empty. He went to his knees when Logan’s puck found the back of Leo’s net.

Remus completely missed the Rangers’ celebration, pinning Logan up against the glass. The puck was swooped neatly off the ice, away from Leo, and handed to the Rangers’ equipment manager to be taped, labeled as a game seven game-winner, and readied for Logan to take home as a keepsake. Logan went off the ice. Thank God Logan went off. He had been for over two different shifts and he knew them. He knew them so well. Remus watched him put his head down against the boards when he made it back to the Rangers’ bench. His shoulders were rising and falling harshly. Luke thumped a hand on his back, eyes concerned behind his visor. Remus risked a glance at Leo and wished he hadn’t. His mask was down, his head was down.

This could be their nightmare.

Remus saw Sirius skate to the face-off circle. He registered James, right at Sirius’ side as usual but looking haunted. James looked up at the clock, which made Remus look up at the clock. Nothing but his blood rushed in his ears.

Nineteen seconds.

He tried to will the numbness out of his hands and feet. He drew a breath that felt sharp when the referee dropped the puck.

There was no scramble for it this time. Sirius swept it back to James, and James held it close. Remus felt himself call for it, tapping his blade on the ice. They didn’t have time to hesitate. James didn’t even look at him, drawing the Rangers’ defense away and over into his own lane before sending a clean, arrow-straight pass to Remus.

Remus caught it, and pushed hard. He didn’t think about anything but keeping the puck close and keeping his strides fast. His muscles burned, even inch of him held tight as Saint trained his body onto him, guessing what Remus might do next.

Six hundred options went through Remus’ head as the white ice blurred beneath him, and he went for, not his own favorite, but Sirius’. The shot that he’d adored as a PT. The one that made Sirius look like pure magic.

Remus let the puck drag, let his skate drag, slowing down the play and making Saint crouch. He knocked it to the other side of his blade, and lifted the puck as hard as he could.

Saint didn’t catch it. It rebounded against his blocker and Remus lunged forward—but Sirius was right there. He sent it hard, as hard as he could, right towards the empty sliver of space above Saint’s shoulder.

Remus was close enough to hear Saint’s shout. It sounded like outrage. His glove reached up, windmilling, and snatched the puck out of the air. He slammed it, captive, down on the ice, and the final horn went.

Remus fell to a knee. “No…”

He was close enough to hear Sirius’ shout, too, something past outrage, and watch as he slammed his stick low against the boards behind the Rangers’ net, snapping off the blade.

Game over.

Remus couldn’t hear the stadium for a long, long stretch of eerie quiet. He heard his own breathing. He heard his own, choked, desperate breathing.

Jules, he thought, and then it was all he could think. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Blue, red, and white gear fell around him as the Rangers threw their sticks and gloves in celebration. The roar filtered slowly back into Remus’ register, and then slammed into him like a wall of sound so hard that he had to close his eyes. The pummeling of hands on the glass sounded like thunder.

This was the hard part of perfection. So much of this year had been difficult. So much of it had been adjusting, then readjusting, climbing and struggling to get things right.

He’d started to believe he was owed this win. When had he started thinking like that?

Something tapped against his side and he looked up to find Pascal there. His face was stone, set and somber, and he jerked his chin towards something. Remus looked to see his teammates quickly filing into a line, waiting to shake hands with the still celebrating Rangers. A pile of blue on the ice, glimpses and flashes of laughter and grins and tears. He looked for Logan, but he couldn’t pick him out. Sirius was there, at the line’s front, waiting with his eyes averted from the celebrating New York.

Pascal helped Remus to his feet, said something that Remus couldn’t hear, and they skated towards the line together.

~

Logan’s hand found Sirius’ and about four different camera flashes went off at once.

“Sirius,” Logan said. “I…”

“I’m happy for you, Tremz,” Sirius said. He squeezed Logan’s hand then put his other one on Logan’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hard, quick hug. “Really.”

“Merci,” Logan said softly. “I’m sorry, you—look, you played so well. That shot—”

Sirius nodded and let go. Logan realized he didn’t want to hear it. “So did you.”

Remus was right behind him, pulling him into a shaky, one-armed hug.

“You deserve this,” Remus said. “Really, Tremz.”

“You’ll get one,” Logan said. And Remus looked away. Logan could hardly stand this. “I know you will.”

Remus smile was sad. “Yeah…Yeah.”

Logan wished he could spend ten minutes on each boy. Olli, Kris…

Kota held out his hand for Logan to shake. “Um. Good game.”

Logan hesitated for only a second before putting his hand into Kota’s. “You too…” He sighed. “Truce for the summer.”

Kota cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

Logan watched Kota pass by to shake Alex’s hand. Replacement. Logan didn’t think he’d ever look at Kota and not think of him that way. Even if they both ended up, somewhere down the line, on completely different teams with no Rangers or Lions even in the picture.

“What, no handshake for me?”

Logan looked back to see Pascal standing there. His helmet was off, brown and grey hair curling over his forehead. His smile was the realest one Logan had seen from the Lions.

“Dumo,” Logan said. It came out a little broken, and he more or less fell into his tight hug.

“I’m happy for you, mon fils. Don’t judge Leo on how he treats you just now,” Pascal said softly in his ear. “And don’t judge yourself.” He pulled back, hands on Logan’s shoulders. “D’accord?”

How? Logan wanted to ask. How how how?

Kuny stopped in front of him, jostling him with a hand on his head and a hard slap to his back. Logan wished he had something better to say. He wished he was better with words.

And there was Leo.

Hair darkened from sweat, cheeks red. He still had his glove tucked under his arm. Logan would relive that moment forever. Watching Leo fall to the ice, glove empty. Feeling himself shout in celebration, maybe out of muscle memory, only for what had just happened to crash into him nearly as hard as his teammates had. He’d been pushed away from Leo, from the blue paint. Like a photograph going out of focus, he had watched the blurred image of Leo pushing himself back up.

Logan came to a complete stop. He put a hand on Leo’s chest because he couldn’t help it. He touched the lion printed there. Even then, Leo didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Le,” Logan whispered. Leo put his hand over Logan’s, but that was about all. Leo’s hand was so slack, so cold, and his blue eyes flit once to meet Logan’s, but hardly for half a second. “Soleil…”

“Proud of you,” Leo said quietly. “I am, I…”

Logan opened his mouth to say something more, unsure what, but then Leo’s hand slipped out of his and he was left blinking hard and face-to-face with Thomas. That had happened too fast. Logan wanted to turn and grab Leo’s hand again, pull him into a hug.

But maybe Leo didn’t want that. Maybe, for the first time since they’d met, Leo didn’t want anything to do with him.

Thomas had seen, and pulled him into a short hug. “You’ll both be okay.” He pulled away and put a hand over Logan’s heart, tapping once. “Love you, man. It was a good series.”

“It was,” Logan said softly. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Thomas tapped his chest again, more firmly, like he was pressing something into Logan. “You’ll be okay.”

Champagne sprayed against his cheeks and got his hair sticky once they entered the locker room. The alcohol was sweet on his tongue, salty from his sweat. He smiled when he saw the cameras, it would look strange if he didn’t. He took a beer when it was offered to him.

It all happened to him, but he felt like he was hovering just outside of the room, looking through glass.

He found his stall and pulled his jersey over his head. He yanked off his pads and unstuck his undershirt, drenched in sweat, from his skin. God. He didn’t want beer or champagne. He wanted to go home. He pulled a sweatshirt over his head to keep his muscles warm.

Someone hugged him from behind. “Hey.”

Luke appeared, grinning. He jostled Logan by his shoulders. Luke’s hair was sticking up in different directions from his helmet and the champagne. His mouth looked, well, thoroughly kissed, and Logan glanced at Saint, who had a smirk on his face as he gave an interview for one TV network or another.

“Game winning goal, Tremz,” Luke said. “Means you get to pick where we celebrate first tonight. We got three days off, we’re going hard.”

Alex put an arm around Logan’s shoulders and Logan looked up at him. He hoped Alex, like Finn, could read his face without him having to say anything. Alex sent him a sympathetic smile and squeezed tighter.

“It is true,” Alex said. “You get to choose. You should choose. I know this is not how you pictured it, but you still deserve this.”

“We didn’t win yet,” Logan said. “You remember that, right?”

Luke sent him an unimpressed look. “When you pull through a seven game series, you get to have a couple drinks with your friends at a nice bar.”

Logan would have usually jumped at that chance to celebrate, at letting loose for a day or two before they were back and battling—well, whoever else was moving on. Everyone would be keeping an eye on the Lightning and Panthers game set for tomorrow. Logan wanted nothing more than to only be thinking about going to a rooftop bar and staying up until the sun rose.

But it wasn’t so simple. In his head, Leo was holding a champagne bottle to his lips and Finn was boxing him in against the rooftop wall with the rising sun against his face.

Home.He wanted to go home. Luke read it on him as easily as Alex had.

“I know,” Luke said then grabbed his shoulders again. “I know, but come on. You have to celebrate with us. I know you didn’t want to be, but you’re part of this team. I’m…” He paused, blinking. He briefly touched the cut and bruise from the high stick under his eye, and then his mouth. He glanced behind him at Saint, then back to Logan. “I’m fucking happy you’re here, Tremz.”

Logan smiled, but there were still Leo’s sad eyes pressing at him. At that moment, Percy jumped on Luke’s back, momentarily pulling him away into a mess of foaming beers and cameras.

Alex leaned in. They were alone, at least for the moment. “If we’re going to be…us. Who we are…” It didn’t take Logan any time at all to decipher who us was, and what they were together. “Then we can’t let it affect our play. And that’s what you showed them out there tonight. That we can love and play. And I’m grateful. Leo will be, too, after a little time.”

“Alex,” Logan began to say, but then Luke’s laugh filtered back in as he pushed Percy away towards where a camera was trying to interview him. He turned back to Logan.

“So?” Luke asked. “Where to?”

Finn and Leo would no doubt tell him he should go, but all he wanted to hold Leo until he could erase the crestfallen look from his face.

“Please,” Luke said more gently. “I know this is…I know you’re probably feeling a lot of different things right now but we’re your friends.” He glanced at Alex, who nodded. “Let us help. Just a little while. I want you there.”

“Me too, Tremble,” Alex said.

Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Non. Mais—merde. Just…Okay.” Alex let out a whoop. “Let me find them first, let me just…” He looked towards the locker room door and accidentally made eye-contact with a few reporters who were looking at him hungrily.

Alex released him. “You have ten minutes before I’m pushing you into the shower so we can get this night going.”

“Alex,” Logan said. “The reporters by the door.”

Alex didn’t have to be told twice. He turned his hat backwards, raised his hands up and walked to the center of the room. “I have some super important things to say! Very important. Over here!”

Logan and Luke shared a look, laughing as the reporters were drawn like moths towards light.

“Um,” Alex began once the recorders and iPhones were inches from his mouth. “Okay, wait, let me think what they were…”

Luke gave him a little push. “Go.”

Logan tapped Luke’s cheek. “Looks like you already went.”

Luke’s next push was a shove.

The hallway was empty. Everyone was in the locker room for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way once the celebrations ended and the players had to be left alone to get dressed. Logan glanced behind him one more time as he made his way down the hallway, away from the doors. Maybe Finn would be with Leo—God knew the Lions wouldn’t want him in their locker room right now. But maybe if he waited outside, a little ways away, he’d be able to catch Finn’s mom, or Leo’s, and tell them that he just wanted to say…what did he want to say? Maybe he didn’t have to say anything, not if they didn’t want him to. Maybe they didn’t even want to see him, but he needed to see them. Just a glimpse. He turned the corner—he’d be out of sight of any reporters now. He looked behind him one more time, just in case, and when he looked forward again he stopped hard.

Finn was there, leaning against the wall, alone. He pushed himself upright when he saw Logan.

“Hi,” Finn said in a rush. “Hi. Hi, I—wasn’t sure if you’d be—Or, I also didn’t think any reporters should see me waiting right outside because, I don’t know, we’re rivals right now and all but that’s a stupid reason, so I…But I wanted to see you? I was going to call but maybe you didn’t have your—”

“Harzy,” Logan breathed. He closed the space between them in two strides, so relieved that it knocked the breath out of him, and reached up to hug him hard.

Finn had been expecting it, waiting for it, and clutched him back with one hand. Logan crushed them together, hands locked behind Finn’s neck. He remembered the sling.

“Oh—” But he couldn’t seem to let go. Finn. This was what he’d wanted. This was home.

“You’re not hurting me,” Finn’s voice had turned rough. He squeezed Logan tighter. “You’re not hurting me, it’s okay.”

Logan just shook his head. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay.

Finn pressed his face into Logan’s neck, letting out a slow breath. “Just wanted to see you off the ice. It’s so different out there. You’re still wearing blue, though.”

“You love all those books where the enemies become lovers.” Logan’s voice was muffled by Finn’s shoulder.

Finn laughed softly. “I love that you know that.” He passed a hand through Logan’s damp hair. “You were never my enemy, though.”

“I was tonight.”

“No. You were an opponent tonight. That’s different.”

“Are you okay?” Logan pulled back to see his eyes. “Your head?”

“I feel okay,” Finn said, but he looked tired and strained. Logan put one of his cold hands to Finn’s forehead. It made Finn close his eyes briefly in relief. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan had plenty to worry about. He saw Leo’s face again, eyes down, shying away from the cameras. “Is he okay?”

Finn just stroked careful fingers over a fresh bruise on Logan’s cheek.

“Does he still want—like, to see me?”

“God, Lo, of course he does. It’s not your fault.”

Yes it is. Yes, it is.

“I’m gonna take him home,” Finn said.

Logan’s heart jolted. “Home?”

“To your place, I mean.”

“Oh.” God, he’d thought Finn meant Gryffindor. He thought he would have to go to sleep alone tonight thinking about Leo. “Oh. Good.”

Finn smiled a little. “Home’s wherever we three are together.”

“I thought you meant you were leaving.”

“Not a chance.”

“You have your key?”

Finn nodded. He looked so tired. It was going to break Logan’s heart. “Yeah, we got it. Go celebrate, okay? Really, I’m not kidding. Have fun. It’s okay. It is. I love you so much, we both do, go celebrate and have fun. I want you to.”

Logan touched his face, the scruff there, the beginning of a try for a long play-off run—one that should have been longer than this. He leaned up and kissed the coarse stubble on his jaw, then then corner of his mouth, and then Finn turned into his kiss with a hand on his lower back.

“I love you,” Logan said.

Finn took his hand and kissed his knuckles, the fresh cuts from fighting Kota. “See you at home. Okay? Doesn’t matter how late it is, wake me up.”

“Tell Leo I love him.” Logan kissed him quick again, then tried to leave but had to kiss him once more before finally turning back the way he’d come.

~

Remus could tell that his mom had given Julian a bit of a lecture before he entered the locker room. Maybe on not seeming too disappointed when he saw Remus. But Remus, after he’d bent down, could feel it in the tight grip of Julian’s hug.

“Sorry, Jules,” Remus said into his shoulder. He looked down at the 6 on Julian’s jersey. “I…I wish I could have done it for you.”

Julian just held him tighter, and when he didn’t reply Remus realized he was crying.

“Oh,” Remus said, a little surprised. He rubbed Julian’s back gently. “Oh, Jules…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, this sucks, I know.”

Julian pulled back and Remus was relieved to see that the tears were soft, not truly upset. More overwhelmed. Still, the catches in his voice took Remus right back to Julian crawling into his bed. To a baby Julian. His baby, that’s how he felt sometimes. He reached up to wipe a thumb across Julian’s cheek and laughed when Julian swatted half-heartedly at his hand.

“I just really wanted it for you.” Julian huffed. “Like—I really want everything for you.”

Remus looked away briefly, at his parents, standing just behind them. Hope put her hand against her chest. Julian’s words made them smile at each other, despite it all.

“That means the most,” Remus said around a thick throat. “That means…the means more than anything else, thanks, bud.”

Julian fiddled with one of the straps of Remus’ shoulder pads. “At least we’ll get to hang out more now.”

“I mean, it’s not like you need to help me get married or anything.”

Julian laughed a little. “Oh jeez. I forgot.” He looked over to Sirius. “That was a really good almost goal, Sirius.”

Sirius’ smile didn’t come as easily as Remus’ but it was there. For Julian, it was real. “Thanks, Jules.”

“I wanted this for you, too,” Julian said.

“Ditto.”

They looked up to see Regulus there, in Sirius’ jersey still. His hair was buzzed short—Remus had been surprised when he’d first seen it, but it suited him. It made his jaw sharper, his grey eyes vivid under thick brows.

“Some luck charm you are,” Sirius said half-heartedly, but he rose from his stall.

Remus watched the two of them hug, watched the way Regulus, maybe without completely realizing it, tucked his chin into Sirius’ shoulder in just the same way Julian had.

“Bien?” Regulus asked softly.

“Non,” Remus heard Sirius say. “Mais ouais.”

No but yes. That sounded about right to Remus’ ears.

“Hi,” Remus sighed with a smile, pushing himself up to greet his parents.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Hope pulled him into a tight hug, and Remus felt his dad’s hand on the back of his head. “You were incredible, you know that.”

“Thanks,” Remus said hoarsely. He let himself lean a little harder into his mom’s arms.

It was a blur after that, mostly. Getting dressed. Getting back to their hotel. Saying goodnight and his mom promising to take them out to a late, late breakfast—even though Remus knew both Sirius and himself most likely weren’t going to be able to sleep that much. He was exhausted but adrenaline coursed through his veins, hot and alive.

In the room’s kitchenette, Remus listened to his family’s final footsteps out the door as he flicked the burner on for tea. He turned back to the glossy hotel kitchen island to find both Black brothers sitting there, looking at him.

Regulus cracked a small smile. “Just making sure neither one of you is going to go break into MSG and skate back the game or something crazy like that.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius said in French.

“Hey.” Remus took down two mugs. “Point taken.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows at the mugs. “Two? Is that you telling me to fuck off?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a smile.

Regulus looked at his brother. “Re said it nicer.”

Sirius, who was slumped with his cheek in his palm, merely shrugged. Regulus’ smile faded as he looked at his brother. Sirius looked tired. Like he had been lifting something heavy and didn’t know how to hold himself without its weight.

Then, to Remus’ slight surprised, Regulus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and pressed his forehead against Sirius’ temple.

“D’accord,” Regulus said softly. “Je t’aime.”

And then he was gone, the hotel door closing with Sirius left blinking after him.

Remus watched him go, too, feeling warmer than before.

“Sweet,” Remus said softly, and Sirius just looked down at his hands, rubbing over his dry knuckles.

When the water heated, Remus poured the tea—chamomile—and settled on the stool that Regulus had occupied. Sirius looked down at the mugs, then at Remus.

“I know, I know,” Remus sighed. “I don’t think it will actually make us sleep, but we can pretend.”

Sirius didn’t reply. He pressed his hands around the warm mug, staring down into the steam rising from the cup. Remus let him be quiet. He let them sit. They would talk when they both felt like they could.

“Re,” Sirius said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Une promenade? Avec moi.” Sirius asked.

“A walk?” Remus asked.

Sirius hummed his affirmative into a kiss to Remus’ temple. Remus closed his eyes when Sirius inhaled, breathing him in. 

What else was there for Remus to do but nod?

~

Leo and Finn moved quietly around Logan’s apartment. Leo sat down on the couch, but didn’t know what to do once he got there. He watched Finn take off his sling—he’d taken to doing that recently. Finn went to the refrigerator and returned with two glasses of water, plus a bottle of gatorade for Leo.

“Comfy?” he asked, which was Finn’s way of asking if he wanted to put sweatpants on. When they had first started living together, it had also been Finn’s way of asking if Leo would rather stay in than go out. Comfy? he’d ask, and they would go and change—sweatshirt and sweatpants—and return to the living room together, smiling and each with their own book in hand.

How did I get so lucky? Leo would think, and then, a second later, How am I supposed to survive loving you?

Now, Leo accepted the gatorade and downed half the bottle in one go.

They walked into Logan’s closet, which had morphed into their shared closet lately. Leo thought of their rooms back in Gryffindor. When was the last time Leo had walked into his own, old, abandoned room? He couldn’t remember. He preferred Finn’s. Finn’s was his.

Leo pulled his suit jacket and pants off, pulled sweatpants on. He was starting on the first button of his shirt when Finn put a hand out.

Leo looked at those soft brown eyes. Finn was his.

“Thanks,” Leo said. His voice sounded odd, like he hadn’t spoken in ages. It wasn’t true. He’d been forced through interviews. God, he never wanted to see those recordings. He never wanted to see what his face had looked like, answering any of those questions. What happened? What’s next? And it was Tremblay who—

“T-shirt or?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, and let Finn push his shirt from his shoulders. Finn turned to their suitcases, messy on the floor, and reached for one of his own t-shirts. Harvard Men’s Ice Hockey it said. Soft and worn and faded gray and red. Leo’s favorite. Leo wanted to comment on the way Finn reached up to slip it over his head—it probably hurt his healing shoulder—but Finn didn’t flinch. He just kissed Leo’s cheek, let his mouth linger there for a moment, and then turned back to the suitcases.

Leo stood there, hands twisted into the t-shirt’s hem. Finn straightened back up, holding a shirt for himself. Some pressure cracked in Leo’s chest. It felt like tears, but they didn’t come.

“I’m gonna go home with my parents,” he said into the small space.

Finn froze. The muscles in his bare back tensed, the t-shirt he was holding bunching in his grip.

“For—” Leo’s voice broke. “For a little bit.”

Slowly, Finn turned around and Leo had to look away. He reached for socks, head down.

“It’s just been—like, a lot of things have been happening. I’m just—I’m gonna go home for a bit.”

“Le,” Finn breathed.

Leo closed his eyes and flipped the top of his suitcase closed. “I’m—I’m sorry? I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was doing when he turned out of the closet, leaving Finn there. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He sat back down on the couch, heart pounding. Finn didn’t follow him out right away. Maybe he was trying to give Leo a second. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was upset. He’d lost too, tonight. Leo almost had to remind himself since Finn hadn’t been on the ice. But all of Finn’s season was just as over as his own.

He wondered where Logan was right now. A cool, summer-night roof top? A sticky-tabled bar? Someone’s apartment? Someone’s house just outside of the city?

He felt the couch dip beside him, caught Finn’s soft red hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Le?” Finn’s voice was so gentle that Leo had to look at him.

He had his glasses on now, but he took them off as he sat down and put them on the coffee table. Leo stared at them. He loved the way they looked, waiting for Finn to pick them back up again.

“Don’t be sorry,” Finn whispered. “That’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Leo kept his eyes on the glasses. “I…Yeah. I know.”

More silence. Finn reached out and rubbed a gentle thumb over Leo’s knee.

“I know that Lo’s sort of spoken for,” Finn began. "For who knows how long, but—would you…would you want me to come—”

Leo shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Not right now, but I love you.”

Finn sat up more and Leo watched his thumb on his knee. Bitten nails, sweet, brown-sugar freckles on the back of his hand. Leo never thought he was going to get to have him. It still hit him with a wave of happiness, even now.

The thumb paused. “You might find Lo in your suitcase anyway when you unzip it.”

“Play-offs.”

“I know.” Finn leaned forward and kissed his temple softly. Leo closed his eyes and a tear escaped without his permission. “I know, I was just joking.” A beat passed. The thumb, maybe the same one from his knee, passed over his cheek. “You might find me in your suitcase.”

“Finn.”

“Okay.” Finn kissed his temple again. “Okay…”

More silence. Leo didn’t know what to say when Finn was quiet.

“Well…Hey.” Finn paused. “Le, look at me.”

Leo did, and Finn’s eyes were all worried and calculating, trying to work out a way to make it better. Finn liked that, Leo had learned. He liked to snap his fingers and make it okay. It got hard for him when he couldn’t.

“Are you sure you…” Finn gave his head a small shake. “I just mean I’ll miss you. I thought…you know. We’d be cheering Logan on, of course, but even more we’d get to just hang out. We have so much time now.”

“Finn,” Leo said, pleading. “Don’t make me feel bad.”

“Oh, no, baby.” Finn sat forward more, palm warm on Leo’s thigh. “No, no, I just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just meant I’ll miss you. I’m not trying to, like, corner you, I…”

Leo put his hand over Finn’s and Finn groaned and dropped his forehead against Leo’s shoulder for a moment before looking at him again. “If I can’t make you feel better, what am I good for?”

Leo shook his head. “This isn’t on you, sweetheart. This is just something I want right now. I need the heat. And the water. And the streets I used to walk. And my mama’s kitchen and boat rides and—”

“But I could be there if you need—”

“I need hockey to not be right in front of me for a second,” Leo said firmly. “And it kills me to say it, but Logan’s in the thick of it and you’ll be in the thick of it with him. And I’m not saying forever, just a week or so, I…” Leo closed his eyes briefly. He took Finn’s hands in his own. “Baby. You’re not listening. I love you, but you’re not listening to me.”

Finn looked like he was going to protest again, but he kept his mouth closed. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Leo hated this. He hated that look on Finn’s face.

“No one knows what I need like you do,” Leo said. “No one knows what I love, no one listens to me like you. No one. But right now, I need something else, we… We lost Logan for a second there.”

Finn’s eyes darted away. He nodded.

“And then the person who hurt me most in this world showed back up in my life,” Leo continued. “Then I had to watch you lay unconscious on the ice because of him, because of me, and I had to sit there not knowing what to do while Logan seemed to know exactly what to do. I’ve never felt like I had to fight through your guys’ history before. The biggest mentor in my life retired, and the play-offs are finished and it was with me in goal.” Leo cupped Finn’s cheek, smoothing a thumb over his freckles. “And I love you both so much. But I need to be in the home that came before my home with you.”

Finn was nodding, and nodding, like he was trying to convince himself that he understood. That it was okay. He rubbed his palms over his face for a moment, and when he looked up again it had made his cheeks red.

“Just…don’t leave tonight,” Finn said. “Please?”

“Tonight?” Leo shook his head, brushing Finn’s hair back from his face. “Honey, I was never gonna leave tonight.”

“Oh. Oh, good, okay.”

Leo leaned forward and kissed Finn once, then twice. “Can I…” He pushed himself up to put a knee on the couch between Finn’s, and Finn opened his arms. “Your sling?”

“I’m allowed to be without it for a bit,” Finn said, and pulled Leo in. “I’d rather feel you.”

The entire world felt quiet and still like that. Finn’s fingertips running up and down Leo’s spine like soft drips of water. They had been laying there for maybe a half hour when, in the quietest voice, so soft, so god damn soft that Leo almost didn’t hear him, Finn said, “You’ll come back.”

Leo hesitated, trying to figure out if he’d heard right, then looked up at him. “What?”

Finn’s arms tightened around him, but he looked away towards Logan’s dark balcony. “No, nothing.”

Leo wasn’t convinced. Finn hadn’t said it as a question exactly, and most of Leo knew that Finn would never have to ask that, but the fact that it had slipped out…

Finn let out a breath through his nose. “No, I—I know you will. I just…I didn’t expect…I’m not making you feel bad, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I know this is—”

“Finn…” God, Leo thought. Oh, Finn. So much of Logan’s old torment was in those words and Leo, in all honestly, was glad they had finally been said. “Yes. Yes.” He turned in his arms to hold him properly, to look at him. He nodded, keeping those brown eyes on him. “Yes, I’m coming back.”

“I’m not telling you to stay,” Finn said quickly. “I just meant that I’ll miss you while you’re away doing what you need to do. And I want you to do what feels right. I just meant—fuck, I mean—I just mean that I want you to…know that I will miss you. It’s not that I don’t understand…Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m coming back,” Leo repeated. “We’re both always going to come back to you.”

Finn’s slow nod didn’t disturb their quiet or their still. It was like it had molded around them, keeping them safe from that cold crush that had happened on the ice. Leo still felt it. The tingling awareness of a puck hitting the back of his net.

“You too,” Finn whispered. “Lo and I love you a lot, Le. Nothing would be the same without you.”

Leo closed his eyes, letting the warmth of that rush over him. He let it erase everything else, just for now.

Finn pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his neck.

“Finn,” Leo whispered. “Finn, I want…”

It was a question-not-question of his own, and it was all he needed to say before Finn was nodding again, hand against Leo’s cheek.

“Me too.”

They moved back into the yellow light dim of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it had sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him, and wrapped him up close, and Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight, and maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

They moved back into the yellow light of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him and wrapped him up close. Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight. Maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck and whispered soft words to him. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

It was Louisiana heat, Finn’s touch. Leo was burning from the inside out, centering at his hips and radiating outward like sun warming up a room. Leo’s mouth was open and panting, sweat sheening over his chest. Finn’s breath was shaky, and Leo could picture the way he tilted his head back. His hands took Leo’s hips, guiding, and Leo settled back on his knees more, his back snug against Finn’s chest so Finn could wrap his arms tightly around Leo’s waist and tuck his nose against Leo’s neck as they moved together. Leo reached back to fist Finn’s hair and turned his head. Finn didn’t hesitate in kissing him, sound and slow.

Leo let the weight, at least for now, slip away.

#vaincre lumosinlove #wolfstar #coops #hockey au #sweater weather lumosinlove #finnlo #sunfish #lelo #Alex o'hara #sirius black #remus lupin #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara

[ceruleancattail]

Hiiiiiiiiii ceruuuuuuuu <33

IGNORE THIS IF I OFFEND IN ANY WAY!!!!

what about the lovely butler au but like yandere octavinelle buyers or masters??? I don't know it can be up to you depending on which is easier to write!!

TAKE A BREAK SINCE UR OPENING REQUEST OK, THERES GOING TO BE LOOOADS I SUSPECT!! 🫶

SHRIMPPPY WHAT'S UPPPP!!!!

Thanks for the request!

Beck and Call

tw:yandere

Jade x reader

Master. Quite a loaded word, isn't it?

The title bestowed upon the one with power. The authority to rise above the others, seated on a lofty throne. Row after row of servants taking a knee, awaiting your commands. With a wave of your hand, anything you desire will be laid before you, presented with a flourish.

Not that you usually ask for anything, of course. Jade's a little disappointed at your independence. Of course, he's very proud of how capable you are.

Although rather that defeats the point of him being a butler.

Do you view him as incapable, master? How saddening. When he's been nothing but loyal to you. Even after all this time, you don't have faith in his services. Wary eyes watching him whenever he enters a room, your gaze burning holes into his back. My, my, Jade’s flattered.

His beloved master, treating him with such caution… you do really see him as a threat, don’t you? An opponent across a chessboard. Well, he doesn’t blame you. Jade does have an unfortunate habit of straying off the beaten path.

He regularly applies certain unscrupulous means to achieve his ends. Pulling at the strings behind the scenes, wrapping merchants around his pinky finger. A simple pull, a whispered rumour or two... you would be surprised how easy it is to set tongues wagging. Businesses crash and fall, shattering the economy.

Yet you still stay afloat, with more than you'll ever need.

Every, single, time.

Of course, the townfolk aren't too fond of that. They tend to avoid you, casting distrustful eyes upon your estate. Ostracised by the others, you hardly remember the last time you ventured out of the grand gate of your estate. Even your servants deserted you, turning in their resignation letters one by one.

Jade was the only one who stayed. He still goes about his day as per usual, never shying away from lighthearted conversation. In fact, he goes the extra mile to keep you company. Slipping into rooms soundless, he'll creep up behind you, whispering your name. Forgive him, you look rather adorable when you're scared.

Take his hand, and let yourself be swept up by Jade. He'll pull you through deserted ballrooms, twirling you around, elegant as a fresh ocean breeze. Humans were all the same. They needed someone. The Company of others was a fundamental part of life. Loneliness was a horrible, soul-aching feeling. It'll gnaw at you slowly, numbing your other senses, rotting your defenses.

That's when he'll strike. Snaking his way into your heart, sinking his claws into your flesh. It's already working, if the way you look at him was any indicator. A soft, gentle gaze, warming the icy depths of Jade's heart. The cheerful way you call for him, beaming when he arrives. It's a rather pleasant feeling, knowing that he's the only one who you'll treat this way.

He's the only one who's by your side, after all. Everything he does is for you.

Do entrust yourself to him, won't you?

You'll be the most prized piece on his chessboard.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade #jade x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere x reader #butler au #protection potion♦️ #FIRST FIC ON MY FIXED LAPTOP #gods I missed my keyboard #mwa Mwa Mwa Mwa #I’ll be splitting this into three parts #hope y’all victims don’t mind

[teawithnosugar]

Young One

! Pairings ,' Guitarist!Ellie x Singer!Reader ! CW ,' angst/no comfort, mentions of drinking, cheating, mentions of abuse, smoking, mentions of self-harm, depression??? ! words ,' 2.2k ! synopsis ,' Your band has a reunion years after you and the guitarist have a nasty breakup (Modern AU) ! song ,' Mind Over Matter (Reprise) - Young the Giant

"Mind over matter I'm in tatters thinking 'bout her"

! AN ,' Yall wanted this 😭 I’M SO SORRY FOR THE RUSHED ENDING BTW, I CHANGED IT SO MANY TIMES AND EVENTUALLY JUST GAVE UP. Also, I have no idea if this is how bands work, I just based the first half off of one of my favorite movies 😭😭😭

The band had disbanded years ago, to the public, it was due to creative differences. You all remained silent as your old manager spoke to a man who came to discuss an upcoming music festival. The real reason for the disbandment remained a vivid memory, etched deeply within everyone's mind. The tension between you and the brunette was palpable, an unspoken rift that even a fleeting glance couldn't bridge. “For fuck’s sake Ellie, we’re in the middle of a tour. You have the worst goddamn timing”

“I cheated on you and all you can think about is the timing? The tour? Are you kidding me?!”

The words still echoed in your ears, in her ears.

You were all invited to this meeting because you were invited to play at one of the biggest music festivals in America. Numbness wrapped around your being as you sat, not far from the woman you love loved.

“…they’re asking you to play 11 songs, your hits.” the man finished saying. Your old bandmates looked at each other before a chorus of “yeah, sure” “I’m g” broke out. Even Ellie agreed. Then, like an unwavering spotlight, all eyes fell on you, including those green ones you longed to claw out. Slowly, you turned to face the man.

“How much are we being paid?” you asked, your tone devoid of emotion. A ripple of surprise swept through the room. Your brow raised, “What?” you asked, a tinge of annoyance seeping into your voice. It was a simple question, after all.

“Nothing…it’s just…you never asked stuff like that before. You always let me and Ellie talk about the money.” Jesse said softly, trying to laugh off how nervous he was when your cold gaze flickered from him and back to the man.

You scoffed, “well, this isn’t just any gig, you’re banking on our past and history here, that’s a big deal so I’m assuming we’re going to be paid well for this? I’ll only do this if the price is right” Your words lacked warmth, causing your bandmates to tense, while your narrowed eyes remained fixed on the man, who promptly nodded. “Y-yeah, usually headliners are paid 4 million so I’m guessing that’s what they’ll give you.” he stammered, his nerves palpable. You nodded slowly, mulling it over for a moment before agreeing. The meeting concluded, and the day melted away, seamlessly transitioning into the next, and then the next, until it was a day away. The band delved into rigorous practice sessions every day, preparing for the forthcoming festival. Bitterness veiled your every move, but you didn’t complain, just doing whatever you were asked to. During rehearsals, Ellie caught sight of the familiar haze clouding your eyes and the tight grip on the microphone as you sang. The only time she had seen you this way before was during the month of mourning when your mother passed away, a time when she stood by your side, pulling you from the abyss threatening to engulf you. She yearned to be there for you now, but the weight of guilt from that night years ago prevented her from even meeting your gaze. You had never sung again after leaving the band. Each song you had penned for the group carried echoes of her, and performing those melodies, born from one of the most beautiful periods of your life, took a toll on your weary soul. All the pain and longing that you hid under your anger for years surged forth, threatening to consume you. Your gaze pulled towards her during breaks, and smoking sessions with the band, but neither of you talked unless it was important. You remained silent in the corner, a lit joint held between your fingers, as the others laughed and bantered. Your eyes stared blankly ahead, and Ellie couldn't help but worry. Every time you lifted the joint to your lips, the sleeves of your shirt would slightly retreat, briefly revealing old and new scars. She wished she weren't the sole witness to the depth of your current pain, she felt she had no right to care or help. She had no idea what happened to you during the years you didn’t see each other, but your pain was as clear as day, at least to her. Because no one else here knew you like she did, and that filled her with all kinds of pain and regret. When the band split up, she continued making music, coping with the heartbreak in a healthier way than you did. She released singles and albums but you refused to listen to them. You refused to subject yourself to songs about the various women she encountered. Yet, you were mistaken, for they were all about you, each one an apology. She was able to put her pain on paper and in music while you had nowhere else to put your pain. You refused to write or sing songs because every verse that came to your mind was entwined with her, and you couldn't bear to immortalize the woman who had betrayed you. So you kept everything locked inside. When you found yourself rotting away at a job you hated, you remained silent. When you moved in with your abusive brother, you remained silent. You couldn't share your struggles with anyone, because they weren’t Ellie. She was the only one who understood you, at least that’s how it was in the early days of your relationship. Sighing softly, drowsiness washed over you. You stubbed out the joint and leaned your head back onto the wall, drowning out the voices of your high bandmates.

You were all at a bar, just hanging out after a successful concert. All your bandmates were by the bar or on the dance floor while you were seated on a couch, writing in your notebook. Ellie, growing weary of watching you engrossed in your notebook, felt a heaviness settle in her heart. Her heart grew heavy when a fan approached her and started flirting with her because you saw and didn’t even bat an eye. She couldn’t help but feel unimportant to you, a feeling that had plagued her for months as the band's popularity grew, causing you to neglect her more and more. She missed your touch, your attention, you, and there she was, a girl offering everything she wanted from you. In a drunken haze, she succumbed to temptation and led that fan back to her hotel room. She told Jesse to tell you she wasn’t feeling well and went back to the hotel. You initially didn’t plan on leaving the bar so early, knowing she’d probably be better in an hour so you weren’t that worried. But you wanted to show her some of the lyrics you were able to come up with at the bar so you walked to her hotel room a few hours after she left. The hotel, a grand establishment adorned with marble walls and elegant chandeliers, exuded an air of opulence. As you approached her door, poised to knock, it swung open before you. Eyes widening, you beheld a disheveled beauty, her hair tousled, makeup smudged, and attire askew, being pushed out by your girlfriend who’s eyes were just as wide as yours. The girl awkwardly left, leaving you two to stare at each other in silence. She was the first to speak. “Y/N-” You scoffed, interrupting her as your features blend of sorrow and anger, a shield you donned all too often. Weary, she groaned softly, pleading, "Please, let me explain." “Are you fucking kidding me!?” your eyes narrowed. “I can’t fucking believe you.” Sneering, you turned, striding towards the elevator. She followed, desperate to mend what had been broken. “Look I’m sorry but you’ve been busy for weeks and I got lonely, I know that’s no excuse but c’mon, we can fix this.” she pleaded, her words hanging in the air. “For fuck’s sake Ellie, we’re in the middle of a tour. You have the worst goddamn timing” you said, voice overflowing with anger and hurt but you refused to shout or scream. Your words made her pause. “I cheated on you and all you can think about is the timing? The tour? Are you kidding me?! Do you even love me?” Her voice rose, taking a step closer to you, bridging the distance between you, and you were cursing the elevator for moving so goddamn slow. Heart pounding, eyes shut tight, you whispered, “fuck….I can’t do this…I’m leaving.” Her scoff pierced the air. “Fine! Leave!” she retorted, consumed by a fit of fury. You met her gaze with narrowed eyes. "Fuck you, I quit," you retorted bitterly, striding out as the elevator doors revealed the lobby. Racing out of the building and calling for a cab. Once your words settled in her mind, she ran after you. You were already in the cab though, telling the driver to go to the airport. All she could do was pound on the window, her cries desperately begging you not to leave her. Ignoring her pleas, you busied yourself with messaging Jesse about the situation and to pack your stuff for you cause you were going home. “Y/N!” “Y/N!” “Y/N”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Ellie, kneeled in front of you with a raised brow. She masked her nervousness and sadness, striving not to let them surface. “You okay?” she asked, a question that had echoed between you countless times in the past. In that fleeting moment, an overwhelming surge of tears threatened to spill, the urge to tell her that you weren't okay, that you needed help, welled up within you. Yet, mistaking her nonchalant tone for apathy, you stifled the tears, offering her a brief nod. Hastily, you rose from the floor, realizing that you and Ellie were the sole occupants left in the room—everyone had already left. You rushed to the door, accidentally knocking down her guitar in the process. You awkwardly picked it up, pausing to look at your initials engraved in the back along with hers before putting it back against the wall.

You slowly turned to her, but once you saw that look on her face, the one that told you she yearned for you and that she was there for you, you let fear take over and guide you out the door, out the building, and to your house.

The next day you all traveled to the festival, hours going by fast as you all waited for your turn to perform. With your band slated to close the show, you sat in your chair, donning a tight, short black spaghetti strap dress and long black gloves to cover scars and bruises while two girls tended to your hair and makeup. Through the mirror's reflection, your gaze locked with Ellie's, her worried eyes fixed upon you, barely registering Jesse's attempt at conversation. Realizing her distraction, Jesse glanced in your direction, then back at her, he shook his head at her and gave her a knowing look.

Once you reached the last song of your set, you were already near tears. It had been years since you allowed yourself to be so vulnerable, pouring your heart into songs about the woman standing beside you, strumming her guitar for thousands of onlookers, after having been emotionally distant for far too long.

Ellie sensed it, as you sang, your eyes shimmering with a glossy sheen, your grip on the microphone so tight that your knuckles trembled, and your arms quivered ever so slightly. You were losing it and she just wanted to hold you.

“You know you’re on my mind?”

As you hit one of the higher notes of the song, you turned a little sideways, so you were still facing the crowd but you could now lock eyes with her. You both got lost in the moment, consumed by the passion embedded in your melodic words and the strums of her guitar.

“And when the seasons change Will you stand by me? Cause I’m a young one built to fall” As the song ended, whispering the last few lyrics, the crowd cheered loudly, but you heard none of it. The violent ringing in your ears overpowering the noise as an emptiness settled within you.

You didn't know how or when you arrived there, but numbness slipped away as reality crashed upon you. In the backstage bathroom, your back pressed against the wall, Ellie's body pressed fervently against yours, lips moving violently against the other. Your arms wrapped around her neck as her hands gripped your hips tightly. You hated how happy you felt when her lips first met yours a few minutes ago. All the memories from years ago where you’d find yourself in this similar situation after concerts came back to you. It was so similar but so different—her lips, her skin, her taste—all held a haunting familiarity, overwhelming you in this moment. Her lips trailed down your jaw and neck, leaving light marks upon your skin. Then, it struck you—the image of her hands on that other girl, her lips on that other girl—and your heart broke all over again. So you shoved her away.

Her eyes widened, a string of apologies tumbling from her lips, but you tuned it out, the all-too-familiar ringing returning to fill your ears.

“fuck….I can’t do this…” those familiar words left your lips and she realized what was happening, you were walking out again.

She stood there, her heart racing wildly, tears streaming down her face, as you ran out, unable to halt the flood of emotions. She finally got to hold you for the first time in years, only to watch you slip through her fingers once more. Her skin tingled, clinging to the lingering touch of your presence but you weren't even there anymore.

The next time she’d ever get to see your pretty face again would be in pictures from online articles on how you died that very night. "Another young one lost"

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

new blue skin

pairing: jake sully x female!reader

WC: 1.1K

warnings: sexual implications, maybe cursing. should be all.

summary: a new planet means a new body is included.

A/N: this could read as stand alone or apart of trouble follows and relationship fix-up (i have a habit of making series/connected stories. it’s a problem) also my own gif (which is why it looks like shit)

masterlist

“We’ll aren’t you a sight for new eyes.”

The sound of a familiar voice caused you to turn your body in the direction away from the lab and your golden eyes widened at the sight before you.

“Grace?”

“In the flesh.” She held her hands out to the side, her blue body on full display.

She wore a cropped Stanford shirt with a pair of khaki cargo shorts and hiking boots. Her hair was pitch black, pulled away from her hair beside the four braids on the sides with beads at the ends. She still looked like Grace, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, how her smile lines grew when she showed excitement. The only difference was that she was blue, tall and blue, also covered in stripes.

She walked close to you, grabbed your hands, and bent your fingers, then dropped them before snapping in both your ears, you could feel the slight flicker. You looked behind you and noticed how your tail was just slowly swaying, that was gonna take a bit to get used to.

“Everything looks good. How do you feel?” Hands at her hips.

You smiled and shrugged, “great- amazing. This is amazing! Getting to smell fresh, clean air. Getting to touch soil and plants again. I- I can’t believe Earth used to be like this.”

“Well, not the exact same, but yeah. It’s a shame we didn’t care enough.” She sighed before leading you away.

As the both of you walked in whatever direction Grace was leading you towards, you started to hear shouts and orders being thrown out. It perked your head and ears at attention, hoping it wasn’t anything serious. As the two of you walked closer to what looked like a wooden hut, you saw a blue figure slowly growing closer from the distance. You had to squint your eyes just a bit, but then it suddenly just stopped.

Their head tilted up to the bright sky and it seemed they dug their feet beneath the dark soil. Another form slowly entered the frame as well before coming to a stop. They turned to each other and looked to be in a conversation.

“Those numb nuts,” Grace murmured. You shot her a look before back to the newcomers and suddenly it clicked.

“Jake.” A sigh of his name. It seemed he heard your voice with the way his head snapped your way. On instinct you took off running his way, your heart beating faster at the sight of him. Jake was blue just like you and- and he was walking again.

Your bodies collided on impact, your arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped tight along his neck, Jake’s arms held your waist in a firm grasp and his hands splayed along your spine as he picked you up and gave a spin to your intertwined bodies. His face was in the crook of your neck and the feel of him rubbing his nose just below your ear made your smile pull tight.

Jake let your feet touch the ground but his arms were still secured nicely on your waist, limbs pulling you flush to his body. In your avatar it seemed that you were just a few inches shorter than Jake having you look up at him, it was different than having to look down as he was in the wheelchair.

One of your hands cupped his cheek, his head leaning into the touch-on contact. He looked like Jake, with the same mischievous look in his eyes, the same lip shape that you’ve kissed a thousand and one times, that same teasing smirk. It was all Jake Sully, just in a foreign body. You swept a hand over the stray hairs that fell along his forehead, you instantly missed the long hair he had back on Earth before shaving it for this trip. You bit into your bottom lip, this was just so exciting for you.

“Hey, guys! Look!”

Both of you turned to the voice behind Jake and saw, who you assumed was Norm, also dressed in a hospital gown. He was flexing his arms, showing the muscular biceps that you also assumed all avatars had a bit of muscle to them. He twisted his torso as he did another flex, “I am a living god,” and struck a cheesy pose before laughing. You couldn’t laugh either, not at Norm, just… you were on Pandora in an avatar, a na’vi replica!

Jake shook his head with a grin before looking back at you. His golden yellow eyes roamed over your face, his fingers doing a gentle dance across your features like he was memorizing a map.

With your hair in its natural form, some strands and baby hair stuck to your skin from the slight sweat you were working up from the blinding sun. He tucked them away behind your pointed ear, another flicker it caused, he chuckled at the action and tapped the point. You instantly smacked his hand away and it caused a full laugh from his chest.

When his laughter died off he sighed, “you still look beautiful. It’s insane, blue might be your color.”

You tisked with a smirk, “you saying I look better as a nonhuman.”

“I’m just saying you look hot.”

“Yeah, this is a new thing that’s turning you on. And I kinda agree, but they didn’t create these for sex purposes, perv. So we’ll have to stick to our human bodies, which I’m completely fine with.” As quickly as it passed, you noted a glaze over Jake’s eyes but it vanished into smoke and returned to eyes that held that loving gaze that made you swoon.

“I see everyone is enjoying their new bodies.”

Jake peered over your shoulder and his eyes widened a bit, “woah.”

Grace strutted over to the three of you, this was probably the happiest you’ve seen her look in the past few hours since your arrival. As she walked closer she yelled, “catch”, and threw something at the both of you. Arms reflexively caught the object out of the air and as you looked you saw it was a native fruit, you glanced at Jake before sinking your canines into the food. You hummed with your eyes closed as the sweet flavor and refreshing juice melted along your tastebuds.

Opening your eyes you turned to Jake as he too closed his eyes to savor the delectable food, the maroon juices sliding along the sides of his mouth. It caused a tingle in your stomach, but you ignored it and thumbed away the mess.

“You eat like an animal.” You murmured.

His eyes peeled open and a smirk appeared on his face, a quirk to his brows. You scuffed with a roll of your eyes, “perv.” “I didn’t say anything,” a reply around the food he was still chewing. You smacked a hand over his open mouth, “you didn’t have to, I saw the look you gave. Also, mouth closed, thought I taught you better,” he shrugged, “such a marine.”

“If you three would stop messing around, we could start preparing for tomorrow's work.”

...

taglist: @singular-itae /

#jake sully #jake sully imagine #jake sully x reader #jake sully x female reader #jake sully x human!reader #avatar imagine #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #james cameron avatar #jake sully fluff

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Seven!

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@applestruda

The sound of several horses’ hooves clip-clopping against the ground broke the natural quiet ambience of the canyon where Cub resided. There was no doubt that Cub could hear them approaching from quite some distance away, given the amount of noise four horses made, and he opened the door as the knights were dismounting. He did a quick headcount, gaze darting between each knight, before frowning. 

“There's only four of you. What happened?” 

Grian winced, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I think you might want to sit down for this. It's a bit of a long story.”

Cub raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he stood aside and beckoned the knights into his home. He put a hand out to stop Pearl before she could follow the other three in, gesturing to her wing. “Are you grounded?” he asked, a thousand other questions lingering in his gaze. 

Pearl pressed her lips together, nodding tersely. “I'll tell you more when we're explaining,” she promised. “It'll heal eventually,” she added at the end.

“That's a relief to hear.” Cub stepped aside to allow Pearl in, closing the door behind them. “Take a seat where you can find one, all of you. I'll get us all some tea while you're getting settled.” 

Grian sat down on the small bench near the window next to Pearl, gently bumping his shoulder against hers. “How are you doing?” he murmured, glancing at her wing. “Stitches holding up well? Any pain?” 

Pearl gave him a tired smile that didn't quite match the anxious look in her eyes. “I haven't given myself enough time to think about it,” she answered vaguely, and Grian frowned. “I'll be fine, Griba. I promise.”

Grian's gaze darkened, and he clenched his hands into fists, staring down at his lap. “About earlier, when–”

“I don't want to talk about that,” Pearl bit out, leftover panic from the memory of that close call seeping into her voice. “It's too soon. And there are more important things to focus on right now. Impulse's well-being and whereabouts, for example.”

Grian sighed softly, but didn't press the matter. He simply wrapped a wing around Pearl, as a comfort to the both of them. He could've lost her forever. If he had been any slower, if they'd arrived a second later, if he hadn't been strong enough to catch her and fly back up…

If Pearl had died, Grian wasn't sure what he would've done. Would grief have overwhelmed him? Would he have hovered, numb, unable to process what had just happened? Would anger have swept through him like the river swept through that ravine? 

Would he have killed Impulse in a blind rage? 

Grian swallowed, finding that he was suddenly fighting back tears. Now that there was a moment to sit and reflect, the fear from earlier and the overwhelming grief from even the possibility he could've lost his sister crashed into him at full force. 

It was stupid. He wasn't even the one who could've died. Pearl was fine, she was sitting right next to him and she was breathing and she was injured but she was alive, and Grian let out a soft trill. 

He felt Pearl place one of her hands over his and lightly flutter her wings. “I'm here, Griba,” she whispered, and squeezed his hand gently. 

“Thank the void for that,” Grian responded, “I don't know what I would do…” Without you. 

Pearl shrugged. “Well, for one, you'd make an absolute mess of the storage system,” she joked, and Grian fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I can't trust any of you around those chests.”

Though she joked, Pearl's mind was still weighed down by what had occured just hours earlier. She could've died. Of course, it wasn't like she had never had a near death experience before– everyone had near death experiences at least once, it was a part of life!– but none by falling. 

Would she ever truly feel safe flying again?

Pearl knew some avians who had fallen while flying. Most didn't survive. Many considered those who did to be the unlucky ones. Avians who fell and lived to tell the tale lost faith in their wings. The first rule of flight is trust, and falling shatters that trust completely. Unable to trust their wings to carry them and hold them in the air, the unfortunate few that Pearl had known developed an unnatural fear of heights. The connection they had with the sky snapped like a rubber band stretched too far, and they began to prefer the ground and even the water. Avians who fell often never flew again, and a grounded avian…

There had been screaming. Screaming, and blood, and feathers. And she hadn't been strong enough to pull them up. And they had refused to fly. They wouldn't. They couldn't. 

They had said they'd run. And… 

Well. Evolution had gifted them wings for a reason. 

Pearl tried not to think about it too hard. She was fine. She would fly again, when her wound healed. Besides, she was more than proficient enough to defend herself while she was stuck on the ground. She would be fine. 

She had to be. For the knights. For everyone who depended on her. She wouldn't fail. Not again. Not ever again.

Mumbo and Scar sat down at the wooden table, Mumbo fidgeting nervously and glancing around the room. Scar couldn't even bring himself to attempt to lighten the mood, weighed down by the situation as he was. He clasped his hands together on the table and stared down at them, lost in his own thoughts. 

Was this his fault? 

He should've known something was wrong. He had known something was wrong. Impulse had come to him, reached out and spoken with him, and Scar had done his best. He had tried his gosh darn hardest to help Impulse. He thought he had been doing pretty well!

Clearly not, though, given he'd somehow missed the literal demon inhabiting Impulse's mind. Sure, he'd known something was off, but he had never expected that. To be fair, neither had any of the other knights, but still. 

“I don't think you could've done much.” Mumbo's voice broke into Scar's thoughts, and he startled slightly in his chair. “Oh– sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Scar shrugged. “Don't worry about it. You're fine. How'd you know what I was thinkin', anyway?”

Mumbo gave him a nervous smile. “You're pretty easy to read, mate. No offense.”

“None taken.” 

“I just–” Mumbo wrang his hands together, looking away. “I'm thinking the same thing, really. I mean, we knew something– Impulse was struggling, we all saw that, and I just…” He sighed. “I think that whatever is going on with Impulse, we wouldn't have been able to fix. Not with what we knew. I mean, we still barely know what's going on with Impulse. Just that it's not really…”

“Him,” Scar finished, nodding solemnly. 

Mumbo had been thinking. He usually was stuck in his head, lost deep in his thoughts. But this time, it was… different. No longer was his head filled with theories and speculations, or possibilities for new redstone inventions. No, now he was stuck on thinking about himself, and just how weak he was. 

Would he be strong enough to stand against Impulse, should it come down to that?

Not only was Impulse much stronger than him physically, but Mumbo wasn't exactly the strongest in terms of mental fortitude either. He knew that whatever had tried to kill Pearl wasn't Impulse. But it looked like Impulse, and sounded like Impulse, and Mumbo could hardly even bring himself to hurt something that didn't resemble his friends. 

He hoped that he wouldn't end up becoming a burden for the rest of his team. If he lost his place among the knights, Mumbo didn't know what he'd do. He had no home to go back to, after all. He supposed he could just wander. Sell his inventions. Likely die a stupid death because he was too nervous to kill a mob. 

What a lovely thing to think about!

Cub handed out warm cups of tea to the knights, keeping one for himself as he pulled out the chair at his desk and turned it to face the knights, settling down in the chair carefully. “Alright.” He set down his cup of tea on the desk and adjusted his glasses, looking around at the knights. “Who wants to start?”

Scar sat up straighter. “I will. Remember when I told you we thought the whole thing with Impulse had fixed itself? The sleeplessness and everything. It… came back?” He frowned. “Sort of, but not really, I guess.”

Cub nodded. “I see, I see. Can you expand more on that?”

Scar looked down at his tea. “So, he was sleepwalking, and I guess…” he glanced over at Grian. “I don't really know what happened?”

Grian held his cup in his hands, blowing softly on the hot liquid to cool it. “And I… I woke up one night and just felt something so wrong, and dangerous, like someone was trying to kill me. And I may have slightly freaked out.”

“And that's how I got injured,” Pearl continued. “He attacked Impulse and I just…” She shrugged. “It was an accident, but after what happened today, I think things may be a little more connected than we thought.”

Cub frowned. “What happened?”

Pearl took in a deep breath, and Grian noticed how she tensed up ever so slightly. He wrapped his wing a little tighter around her for a moment as a gentle reassurance. “Impulse asked to speak with me alone. I went with him into the forest. For a long time, we just walked in silence. I'm not even sure if he really knew where he was leading me.” She paused. “We got to the ravine, and Impulse and I sat down. That's when he told me he wanted to leave the knights.”

Grian shot her a confused glance, and Mumbo and Scar shared a concerned look. “What? You didn't mention that.” 

“It slipped my mind,” Pearl murmured. “After he told me that, he got really panicky. Totally freaked out, questioning why he led me here. He stood up and began to back away from me.” Her voice trembled. “I thought he was going to fall off the edge and into the ravine. I thought he was going to die.” She took a sip of her tea to calm herself, relaxing as warmth spread through her chest.

Cub hummed softly. “But that didn't happen?” 

Pearl shook her head. “I reached out to him and pulled him back. And…” she laughed softly, in the way that spoke of held back tears. “And he pushed me off, instead. I somehow managed to grab onto the edge, and I saw that his eyes… his eyes were red. When he spoke, he didn't sound like himself either.” She paused for a moment, frowning. “It was his own voice, but there was something else to it. Some deeper undertone, some warped sound– I don't know. But he slammed his foot down on my hands and I fell.” 

Cub's eyes widened slightly as he gasped softly. “Oh, Pearl…” He shook his head sympathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

“I caught her,” Grian added on quickly, “we'd been following them– we knew something was off.”

“I went vex and pinned Impulse down. Cub, man, the moment I went vex I could smell it.” Scar shuddered at the memory. “The magic. It was so wrong. It had to have been the cause of everything that had been happening.” He flexed his hands, glancing down at them. “And whatever it is, it's strong. Cub, I couldn't do anything.”

Cub grabbed a book from the pile on his desk and began leafing through the pages, searching for something in particular. “I getcha, man. I getcha.” He paused on one of the pages and quickly scanned it. “With the information you've all given me, I think I know what we're dealing with.” 

Grian's eyes widened, feathers rustling as he leaned forward slightly. “You do? What is it? How do we beat it?”

“Without doing too much harm to Impulse,” Pearl added on.

“Preferably none!” Mumbo piped up, setting down his tea, “to either party. I mean, that's probably not going to happen, really.”

Cub took a deep breath and started to read from the page. “Blood curse demons are one of the most dangerous types of demons. Taking payment in blood, these demons are incredibly difficult to get rid of without some type of sacrifice, be it the summoner or someone else.” He lifted his gaze momentarily. “That's not all, unfortunately.” 

“That already sounds pretty bad,” Pearl commented, “you're telling me there's something worse?”

Cub nodded, going back to reading. “One blood curse demon in particular made itself notorious in parts of the overworld due to the strength of the demon and frequency of the occurrence. In all recorded cases, it was impossible to remove the demon without death. In my other book, The Art of Summoning - Demons, I discuss this demon and it's curse in more detail, but the most important parts bear repeating.” He paused, flipping the page. “When the demon is in control of the summoner's body, the eyes of the summoner are known to turn red. Those afflicted by the curse are known to sleepwalk, and will always feel exhausted no matter how much they sleep. The afflicted are more prone to acts of violence and sudden bloodlust directed toward those close to them. As the curse progresses, the bloodlust will grow stronger until finally, they attempt to kill someone. If the afflicted is not successful in taking the life of another in a certain amount of time, they will take their own life.

This curse is known as the Boogey curse, and the afflicted have been commonly referred to as the Boogeyman.” 

Silence fell over the room as the information settled heavy on their minds. The knights shared concerned and scared glances, not quite knowing what to say in response to that. 

Mumbo swallowed thickly. “So… you're telling us it's impossible to save Impulse?”

Scar leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “If it truly comes down to it, I would be more than willing to–”

Grian stood up suddenly, fury burning in his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “No one is going to be sacrificing themselves. There are other solutions.” He turned to look at Cub, and the anger melted into desperation. “There have to be.”

Cub looked up at Grian with a guilty, pained expression. “With lesser demons, it's possible to force them out by flooding the afflicted's body with magic. The amount of magic required to force this demon out of Impulse would be extraordinary. Even Scar and I, at our best, wouldn't have enough. It's why there are no recorded cases of this particular demon being expelled without casualties.”

“What about the fae?” Scar asked, “if we make a deal with them–”

Cub's gaze turned cold. “And for what, Scar? What would you offer them when they ask you to pay the price?”

Scar went silent. 

Grian and Pearl shared a look, one that spoke of shared secrets yet to be revealed. For a moment, their eyes met, and they made a decision as one. 

Pearl stood. “There's something we need to show you all.” 

Grian slipped out the door in front of her, Pearl gesturing to the rest of the knights and Cub to follow them. Despite their audible confusion, Mumbo and Scar stood and followed Grian. Cub took a moment to bookmark his page and set the book back on the desk before following the rest. They gathered in a semicircle, with Pearl and Grian standing in front of them. 

Grian looked over at Pearl. “Pearlie, can you…?” He gestured vaguely to his back, and Pearl nodded, going behind him to undo the extra buttons Grian always insisted on having on his shirts. 

Scar crossed his arms. “I know I'm one to talk, but this hardly seems like the appropriate time to be taking your clothes off, G.”

Grian's face turned red as Pearl stifled a giggle. “Oh, Scar, that's not–!” He spluttered for a moment. “I'm not taking critique from a man who keeps making me patch up his chest wounds.”

Scar raised his eyebrows, smirking. “Oh, you enjoy looking at my–”

“That's enough, ya goofs,” Pearl interrupted, finishing with the buttons. “I don't want to dampen the mood, but unfortunately this is a bit… serious.” She took her original place beside Grian. “Do you want to explain at all, or…?”

Grian gave her a tired smile. “When have I ever explained anything?”

Magic swirled like wind around the two avians, and dark scales like small shards of the void began to coalesce around the two. Like puzzle pieces coming together to make a picture, the scales formed shapes– limbs, made of sparkling void and magic. 

For Grian, it was wings that extended from the slits in the back of his shirt. Wings that stretched toward the sky, cut out from the infinite void that stretched below the world. The darkness of the void seeped into his colorful feathers, dyeing them pitch black. Once his new pair of wings were complete, the void shattered like glass and faded away, leaving behind black wings that looked exactly like the other pair. Exactly like a normal pair of wings, except for the fact that eyes of different shapes and sizes now decorated his feathers.

For Pearl, it was arms that slipped through the thin slits in the sides of her shirt. Like with Grian's wings, her new limbs looked to be made of void until they were complete– and then the void shattered, leaving behind normal looking arms. The shards of void didn't fade like they had with Grian, though. They went to her eyes, and when she opened them, it was as though they'd been replaced by the void. Her wings and feathery antennae were also dyed black just as Grian's had been.

As the whirlwind of magic ceased, and wings black as the eternal night stretched toward the sky, the other three looked up in fear and awe. For a moment that stretched on for what felt like centuries, there was silence.

“Holy shit.” Cub was the first to speak, eyes shining as he examined the two siblings. “You're–”

“Watchers,” Grian finished, “yes. Please don't freak out.”

“It was his idea,” Pearl murmured, trying to shade her now ink-black eyes from the sun, “I just followed along. I promised I would make sure he wasn't going to get himself killed. You know how it is.”

Scar stepped back, giving both Grian and Pearl a once-over. “Huh. You know, I thought that Watchers would be taller. All that magic, and they couldn't even give you a couple extra inches?”

That seemed to break the tension lingering on the moment, and Pearl giggled, relaxing. Mumbo broke his silence to laugh as well, nodding. “He's right, mate. For a being that's supposed to be a super myth, you're still super short.” 

Grian's jaw dropped. “I am perfectly fine with my height, Scar! Mumbo!” he protested, “and I could still take you out even though I'm shorter!”

Cub's eyes were shining as he took a step forward. “But extra limbs, and eyes? Can you see from those eyes, what's it like? Do they retain the same function? Does the time spent hidden affect them? How–?”

“It's really bright out,” Pearl muttered, looking incredibly uncomfortable with that fact. As a moth hybrid, her eyes normally were more sensitive to light. As a Watcher, they were even more so. 

Grian raised one of his wings to hover over Pearl, shading her from the sun. “Yes, we can see from the eyes. Our eyes are light sensitive. We can use them to see magic, the people around us, pretty much anything nearby. And, uh…” He glanced at Pearl. “I dunno about Pearl, but my wings are fine when I bring them out, they don't get weaker or anything. I haven't really thought about what happens to them when we switch forms.”

“You can't really think too hard about all this super magical stuff,” Pearl added on, “or you're going to give yourself a headache. Trust me. And my arms are the same as Grian's wings. They don't lose any mobility or anything.”

Mumbo tentatively reached out and poked one of Pearl's arms. “Oh, that's fascinating,” he breathed, before looking up at Pearl. “Sorry! Should've asked. My bad.”

Pearl laughed softly, shaking her head. “You're fine, mate.”

Grian gave Mumbo a slight smile, before looking back over at Cub and Scar. “I'm sure you know about the Watchers and their magical capabilities.”

“Of course!” Cub exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Even individually, Watchers were said to have an incredible amount of magical energy– that's the reason for the extra limbs and eyes, right? Your magical energy increases when you transform, so it manifests in more ways. Oh, that's incredible, man!” 

Pearl let out a breathy laugh. “Well, thank you? I'm glad you're not all freaked out about this. It's certainly a little… weird.”

Grian nodded. “You probably have a ton of questions, but we'll have time to answer them later. After we save Impulse. Like Cub said, Pearl and I have a ton of magic in us. If anyone's going to be able to get the demon out of Impulse, it's us.” His eyes were full of steely determination as he spoke, and he could only hope he sounded as confident as he was trying to be. This would work. It had to. 

“Griba and I will be able to find Impulse now that we know what we're looking for,” Pearl explained, “so that makes achieving our goal much easier, since we won't have to worry about tracking him down. The hard part is going to be getting Im– the demon– to stick around long enough for us to finish casting the spell.” 

Grian had always been better at watching than she had. He always found what he was looking for much more easily than Pearl– she had told herself that was why he was able to be so unorganized. But Pearl had always been better at the magical aspect, more in tune with the ebb and flow of the magic around her than Grian was. They were both proficient enough in casting individually, but together? And against another magical force that would be actively fighting against them? Pearl would be lying if she said she didn't have any worries or doubts about this plan. 

But there was too much at stake. If either Grian or Pearl faltered, or if they didn't have enough magic, or if anything went wrong, someone would die. There was no room for self doubt or error when lives hung in the balance. They would likely only get one chance to succeed at this. Pearl tried not to let her hands visibly shake. She couldn't let herself be scared. Not now. 

Scar grinned. “Oh, don't you worry! Me and Mumbo here will help with that. We need to pull our own weight, after all! Can't just let you and Grian do all the hard work!” Despite the confident persona that he so often displayed, there was an unusual darkness in his eyes. Like storm clouds stretching across the sky, casting the lush forest into shadow. 

Mumbo squeaked, turning on his heel to look at Scar. “We– we will? Are you sure about that, mate?” His voice trembled noticeably as he spoke. “How– I can't really do much, you know, I'm potato boy. Not– not much of a fighter.”

Scar slung an arm around Mumbo's shoulders. “Ah, ah, ah! You are still a valuable addition to the team! Besides, you know how to fight! You don't need to win, just keep him busy! I'll be there too, so you won't be fighting alone.”

Mumbo chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I… I guess! I guess that's that, then!” 

Grian nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan. Once I get a pin on Impulse's location, we'll prepare and head out as soon as possible. When we get to him, Scar and Mumbo will keep the demon occupied while Pearl and I cast the spell. And then…”

“We save Impulse,” Pearl finished, taking her brother's hand. “Then we go home. And rest. And talk.” She smiled wearily at Grian. “See? Isn't coming up with a plan much better than just flying away while injured and getting kidnapped?”

Both Grian and Scar winced, though their laughter was reassurance that they weren't really hurt by that comment. “You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?” Grian asked, sighing when Pearl shook her head. “Right. Well, it's going to take me a moment to locate Impulse and everything, so start getting ready to leave.” He pulled his hand away from Pearl's, and closed his mortal eyes. Spreading his wings slightly, other eyes all over the black appendages began to open as Grian began his search. 

Scar and Mumbo's eyes were glued to the sight, wide in awe. “Amayzin',” Scar breathed. 

“It's certainly something,” Mumbo agreed, his voice a hushed whisper.

Cub watched for a moment, in awe, before he turned to Pearl. “I have something for you.” He hurried back into the house, leaving the door slightly open. He came back out just a few moments later, carrying something wrapped in cloth. “For your wing.” 

Pearl took the bundle and unwrapped it, staring at the contents for a moment before looking up at Cub. “You're kidding. You don't actually– Cub, this is so hard to get!” She carefully ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the potion, gazing at the slightly glowing liquid. “This can't actually be…”

Cub smiled slightly. “A regen pot? You bet. It's the real thing– I brewed it myself. Just… I want to be able to help you all more. If I had been able to catch what was going on with Impulse sooner, then…”

Pearl shook her head. “Cub, mate, you've done so much for us. You've helped so much! We'd be lost without you!” Eyes as black and endless as the night sky met light green– like fields of grass in the bright summer sun, compared to the forest green of Scar's eyes. “Cub, really. Thank you so much. I…” She paused. “I don't want to get all teary on you. So, just… thank you. Thank you.” 

Cub's gaze softened, and he nodded. “Of course, man. Of course. Take that potion, okay? It might feel a little weird, but I'm sure you know that already.”

Pearl carefully uncorked the potion before quickly downing the liquid, wincing from the bitter taste. “Oh, that does not get better the more you do it–” She cut herself off with a soft hiss, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “That sure works quick!” 

Cub laughed, taking the now empty potion bottle and cloth back from Pearl. “They're sought-after items for a reason. You should be good to take those bandages off now. And…” His voice became more serious. “...good luck. I'll see you, all five of you, soon.”

Pearl could only nod as she began to remove the bandages from her wing. Suddenly, a thought came to her. “Hey, Cub? Do you know who wrote that book you were reading? The demon one.”

Cub's brow furrowed as he thought back. “I'm not sure… I think he used a pseudonym? M. Saus, I think it was. Not many people know of him because of how little he wrote, and because he only ever wrote about demons. I remember reading something in the author's note at the beginning– something about an unfortunate experience with a demon when he was younger? I dunno. He's probably long dead by now.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Pearl hummed thoughtfully. “No reason. I was just curious. Thanks, Cub.”

“No problem, man. I'll be right back.” Cub disappeared back into his house, probably to put the empty potion bottle away. 

Not a moment later, the rustling of feathers broke Grian's extended silence. He slowly lowered his wings, letting them rest behind him as he opened his mortal eyes. “Found him,” he announced to the knights. “Get ready. We're leaving now.” 

There was an anxious air hanging around the knights as they quickly readied their horses for the trip. Pearl reverted back to her normal form so as not to spook her horse and to give her sensitive eyes a rest, but Grian decided to stay in his Watcher form for a while longer. Just in case something happened, so he'd be able to sense it. Scar made light idle conversation with Mumbo, knowing how the other knight would get overly anxious if he wasn't distracted. 

Cub stepped back outside, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “You're all heading out, then?” he asked, humming softly when he got confirmation from Scar. “I'll see you all soon, then. And good luck.”

Grian mounted his horse, settling himself in the saddle. “Thanks, Cub. You'll hear from us, one way or another.” 

“I'll keep the side room open if you need. Come here if any of you get seriously injured.” Cub looked between all the knights. “I don't trust any of you– other than Pearl, that is– with looking after yourselves. If I don't hear from any of you in two weeks, I'm assuming the worst.” Despite the light hearted tone he kept in his voice, his eyes were full of concern. 

“Why does everyone always trust Pearl?” Grian complained, mostly to himself. “When I first met her, she had just crash landed. That's not responsible behavior, if you ask me–”

Pearl smacked him with her wing, and Grian nearly fell off his horse. 

Cub locked eyes with Scar. “And you, mister. I want you to promise me you'll come back. That you'll be safe. That you won't do anything unnecessarily dangerous, or sacrificial!”

“Of course I will!” Scar exclaimed. “You have my word. Vex's honor.”

Cub snorted, rolling his eyes. “Vex's honor? I'll hold you to it, man.” His smile dropped slightly. “One more thing. I want you to remember…” He stepped forward, laying a hand on Scar's arm and lowering his voice. “You are in control. Not the vex. You do not need to fear that side of you.” 

Scar's face was unreadable for a moment, before he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Right. Yeah. Of course. No fear. None.” He glanced up at the other knights before looking back down at Cub. “I'll be back. I promise. And I'll bring Impulse with me.”

Cub smiled. “Good.”

The sun began its descent in the sky as the knights rode out, led by Grian. 

–

His head–

Oh, void. 

It hurt. Everything hurt. He was– he was dying, he had to be, his head hurt so much.

Five things, he needed to calm down, five things he could–

He couldn't see

His vision

blurred he couldn't–

Blood.

There was blood 

on his hands, it wasn't, his

He remembered 

A rabbit. 

Thrashing in his hands, and he–

No. No, no no no no

His head. His head hurt. 

He snapped its neck he killed it the demon–

Sleep, little mortal, or insanity will take your mind.

Impulse...

drifted.

#my writing #boatem knights au #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #hermitcraft fanfic

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 3

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, Plot twist at the end!

Synopsis:

Numbness is all you feel as a blood red sun pours into the dark sky. As death, heartbreak and war stalk your every move, loyalties are thrown into question. Unknowing that your every move you change the course of war, your marriage is arranged.

It was a night for celebration. Singing could be heard all throughout Kings Landing. Everyone was happy. Except Y/n. She had screamed so loudly till her throat tore. Bile and a metallic taste stained her mouth. She was cold, wet and utterly wretched in that moment. So small compared to the might of house Targaryen and their newest Princess. Up the forsaken weather swept steps she went. Several times she fell bruising her knees. In her mind the only think she could picture was the Weirwood tree, an alien in what was once its land. Much like you, the forsaken member cast out of your home. Utterly alone and there for eyes to observe like this tree. No one else was in the courtyard. In fact, a silence had fallen over this place like a blanket.

Step by shivering step you tread upon each stone. The branches slightly swayed, like arms reaching out. Your feel hit the ground and your fingertips outstretched themselves. The delicate skin brushed the bark and its sticky sap. "Help me, please." You whispered out. In that moment you cared not if it was heresy to do so. You wished time would go back to a time before Princess Ellyn. Tonight, as your misery reached its pitch this place felt more otherworldly than the Sept ever had. The wood grounded you in a way the cold sterile steps of The Seven never had. And for the first time, you prayed to other Gods. Blood dripped from you elbow as you sank down, dying the bark red.

A scream rendered apart the calm morning. Even Y/n could hear it down in the courtyard. It was a cry of unimaginable grief and agony all warped into one. Its very nature sent shivers down your spine. "Helaena." Was all you could think.

The castle was not quiet as one would expect. It seemed everyone in the Red Keep was awake and alert. You ran past a pair of frightened ladies who were huddled against the wall. As you got closer to the cries a maid was running away, fear evident on her face. You did not bother to question her. That was when the smell hit you. Raw, metallic and it made you gag. This smell was all too familiar. You had smelt it the day your mother fell down the stairs. When the blood poured down your fathers blue lips. Suddenly you did not want to move forward. Because Helaena could only have cried like that for three people. Three small children who were her world. And the horrid realization dawned upon you as step by step the cries of agony that would never fully leave the young Queen. Today the Red Keep was bathed in the blood of a child. Today, one of those children would never see another sunrise.

Each step was heavy. Turning back would be easy. But your conscience pushed you on. Little droplets of blood trailed out. Then smears. The children's faces came into your mind. Which one of them was it? Or all three? Horror pulsed through your soul like a poison. Bile could be felt at the very back of your throat. You almost got to the door when you nearly fell. You had stepped in a pile of the child's blood. Doubling over in horror, bile was spat onto the floor. Oh. Gods. Your eyes burned and skin crawled. The satin shoes were removed, one stained a dark red. But there was still some on your feet. An innocents blood violently shed, mingling your own body. Whos blood was it!?

The scene you walked in was nearly indescribable in its horror. The stench of death was nearly overwhelming, putrid. Five people lay there on the floor, only four alive and breathing. Three women, two kids. You saw one of the Queens ladies there, her throat slashed.

You stumbled over Jaehaerys Targaryen's corpse. Blood pouring from the stump where his head once sat.

Cries rose from Kings Landing as the news spread. Jaehaerys Targaryen was dead, murdered by assassins' on the orders Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen. At this many moment the killers where somewhere with the prince's head. The stench of his blood remained long after Elinor lead you away. Multiple cries rung out from every corner of the castle. Small prayers left your lips to any Gods who would hear them. Even if the blood could be cleansed the memory could not be so easily sponged away.

You were laid to rest in bed. Sleep you did. But it was fitful with blood and misery. And in it sat the Weirwood tree, so real in its ancient terror. "Change coats." The running of blood!" The words oozed out of the tree like a sinister symphony. And everything was blood, and it consumed you in its fervous. Helaena's eyes stared down at you, cold and blank. When you finally did wake the next day had already began. The sun was there but you could not feel its warmth. It was hard to feel anything now. Your belly rumbled but you felt no hunger. They dressed you and the bodice tightly fitted around you was nothing. "Y/n, please eat." Food was put in front of you. Only the bread was eaten. The sensation of juice running down your throat was revolting and meat repulsed you. You forced back some wine. Afterwards you called for a basin to be brought in. You rubbed the soap against your feet to rid yourself of the already long gone blood. But every time you lay your feet upon the cold stone you started again. It had always been filled with blood. When Maegor the cruel finished the Black cells did he not kill all the workers. How much blood had been spilled inside this dread castle? Mayhaps the red did really come from blood. And now the little Prince's blood was added to it. And you knew this was only the beginning. War would claim one side or the other. Either Rhaenyra's brood, or you and yours.

Death stalked every resident of the Red Keep. Every breath that breezed through seemed to belong to the dead, known and unknown. Now stories would add the little Prince to the stories of lives taken within this castles walls. People flitted about like ghosts, hurrying here and there in an attempt to escape the stench of fear infecting everyone. people hid in their rooms, left for their estates, or sought guidance in the Sept. Only you went to the Weirwood tree. You might as well be in the middle of nowhere. This sudden change brought some sort of peace to you. The cold made you long for a land far off place. Maybe it was the Reed blood within you, a side of your family you had never payed much attention to. There was something archaic when it came to the Old Gods. You knew that it was heretical to think these thoughts. The Andals, your ancestors (although there was the blood of the First Men in your veins) had waged war and burned their trees. The New Gods had been your world, Seven being a number stamped into your mind. The idea of multiple Gods whos faces and personalities remained unknown was such a strange concept to you. How they even prayed to nameless Gods was a mystery.

Staying by the tree did not absolutely sooth your soul. Your soul was still in turmoil. Even after you had accepted your new reality the pain of losing your long time friend hurt. The Weirwood could not act as a balm. Sometimes tears would roll down your face in private. Sometimes you would see Prince Aemond in the court. Whether he was heading to a council meeting or walking with his wife. Like a ghost you would watch them, a mere specter in the court. You supposed that one did not even need to be dead to be a ghost in this wretched place.

Even with misery permeating through the palace, Princess Ellyn's rage had not tempered itself. On the first day you were back in the Princesses service she was as awful as ever. By the time you arrived she was in a tub being tended to by Cerilla and another lady. The second the door closed she loved around. You curtsied. "You. Get the herbs." You looked at the other lady who quickly gestured to a box in the corner. You picked it up and pulled out two bottles. Wordlessly you added the herbs into the warm water. The Princess was much like a cat, luxuriously stretched out. 'I think this suits you." You decided to ignore her. Being so tired her words hardly mattered to you right now. "The Princess is speaking to you." Said Cerilla. Coolly you looked at her. "If the Princess wishes me to answer she may say so herself." Princes Ellyn did not like that, she got up and strided towards you. The other lady gasped as Princess Ellyn sunk her sharp nails into your white sleeves. "I am the Princess, you are my lady in waiting! You are nothing compared to me." And then her grip tightened nearly making you cry out. "I will keep you by my side if only to further vex you. Every night I will have you wait as my husband loves me. And when I have his son you may be here to assist. Then maybe I'll send you to the Silent Sister to release you from your torment." The other lady had fled with Cerilla on her heels, looking back with a malicious sneer on her face. You had sworn never to cry in front of her. You started to shake with a combination of anger and deep seated sadness. This was like a bad dream. A continuing nightmare that never seemed to send. A life of suffering in her presence was worse than deal. She would hound you to the end of your days. She laughed when tears started to roll down your face. Her head was thrown back with black hair cascading down her back. Your despair had never been greater, and there was no one to protect you.

With tears rolling down your face, you filed her nails down in silence.

Dowager Queen Alicent, Princess Ellyn Baratheon, Prince Aemond and Otto Hightower were already seated. A smirking Lady Cerilla was standing behind Dowager Queen Alicent. Lady Joan shut the door behind you. Nervously you stood in front of them, feeling so small. Princess Ellyn regarded you with a sharp, cruel gaze. Prince Aemond was staring ahead with a vacant expression. You wondered if it was from milk-of-the-poppy but it seemed improbable. He was always careful about the amount he took. "Lady Y/n. As you know we brought you and have invited Lady Joan Tyrell for a very important reason." Dowager Queen Alicent placed the cup of tea down. Her fingers were shaking. You felt immense sadness for her. The loss of the little Prince was hard on you, but likely the horror was nothing compared to his grandmothers grief. You wanted to offer your condolences again but now did not seem the time. "Your guardian and I have decided that as you are a woman now, and given the current climate, it is time for you to marry." Princess Ellyn looked both shocked and enraged. "Pardon me Your Grace, but I hardly think Lady Y/n is suited to married life right now." Absolutely not. That bitch was not going to get her way this time. There was no way in hell you would allow her to have any say in your life. "I will do whatever Her Grace requires of me, even marriage." Princess Ellyn stood up, shocking everyone. In just three steps she was right in front of you. "I will not have you marry. I will not allow it!" Otto Hightower, who had so far been silent, straightened himself in his chair. "I was not aware you had any say in Lady Y/n's affairs." You hoped he never used that voice with you. Princess Ellyn's cheeks flushed a red you found made her look quite unattractive. "But My Lord, this woman has already lain.... she is no virgin and hardly worthy of any Lord." Otto Hightower stood up. And in that instant the Princess shrunk. She had overstepped the line. Massively. "Lady Y/n will not just be marrying a Lord she will marry Lord Jason Lannister." Princess Ellyn, Prince Aemond and yourself all looked at the Hand. "Jason Lannister." Princess Ellyn hissed out. Now all the colour had drained from her cheeks. She looked to angry to speak. "I am sure Lady Y/n will make a fine wife for Lord Lannister. She is of a good line, and he needs and heir. Besides, the Tarley's will be useful to the Lannisters." Those were the only words Prince Aemond contributed. "I beg your pardon, but what have the Tarleys got to do with this?"You had finally found your voice. Still shocked, you were trying to fully comprehend your suddenly new future. "Your cousin Ser Harold has died. Originally he held lands that were intended for your mother. And as he had no heir it reverts back to you. The Tarley's have a good army and you will bring a dowry of wheat, grain and gold to their house." Feeling dizzy, and Prince Aemond realizing this, he quickly pulled out a chair and helped you sit down. His touch was rigid and cold. There was blood in his nailbeds.

"I hardly think Y/n is an appropriate candidate for the position." Her voice was shaking with barely suppressed rage. You spared a look at Cerilla and noticed a look of alarm on her face too. "And how have you come to such a conclusion?" Dowager Queen Alicent inquired. "Because she is a whore!" The word "whore" echoed around the room and you would not be surprised in someone outside heard. "My wife." Prince Aemond took his wife by the hand. Not wanting to look at Prince Aemond being tender to her, your gaze went to the Hand. Otto Hightower looked as if his mouth might disappear with how tightly his lips pressed together. Dowager Queen Alicent looked done. "I promise I have never laid with Lady Y/n." Prince Aemond attempted to console his wife. But she rejected his, removing her hand. "Who told you these rumors?" Inquired Otto Hightower. "Everyone's being saying so! And my sister-" "We brought you here to forge an alliance and bring house Targaryen another son. Not go around listening to baseless rumors." Snapped Dowager Queen Alicent. Her pale hands were brought together in a display of anxiety. To your alarm you realized there was a thin red trail of blood staining her skin. "Your Grace." An embroidered handkerchief outlined in green was pulled from your sleeve. You quickly held it to the Queens hand. Everyone watched in surprised. "Mother. You are unwell." Prince Aemond got to his feet and helped her up.

Ottot Hightower looked tense, his intense brown eyes focused on Princess Ellyn. It was from past experiences when watching The Hand of the King's interaction with others you realized it was best to leave. "May I be excused?" Otto Hightower nodded without looking at you. Wordlessly you curtsied and made to leave. "Lady Y/n." Thrown through a loop, because it was Prince Aemond who called for you. Your eyes meet him for the first time in what felt like forever. There was a mask on his face. The skin looked unnaturally pale and there was a shadow under his eye. And his eye. It was a piercing lilac, so different from the usual deep purple it once was. He gave you the handkerchief. His ice cold fingers touched yours. And then he stepped back. The two of you were only a few feet apart. It lasted but a moment, that brief point when the bond of friendship was momentarily reconnected. Aemond's eyes seemed to study you. Your own on him. And it was but a moment. He looked away, the bond was broken. Prince Aemond walked out of the room.

Princess Ellyn watched her husbands retreat with keen eyes before focusing back on those still present. Deciding how was the time to flee, for a second time, you made to leave. "My Lord, if I may." You had almost made it to the door when Princess Ellyn spoke for the final time. "I suggest we subject Lady Y/n to a test to see if what she says is true." Dowager Queen Alicent looked at Princess Ellyn with something cold and hard in her gaze. "Very well. But no one is to speak of this." She then turned to you. "Lady Y/n you will prepare yourself and come to my chambers in an hours time. Princess Ellyn, The Hand will take you to the examination room."

You shivered. Not from the cold of the Red Keeps lower chambers but fear of the unknown. What had they planned for you? While you were a virgin what test would they subject you to? The blue cloak was pulled tighter around you. Elinor had been forbade to attend you, only Septas walked by your side. They were silent, clad in their grey robes and stern expressions. The room chosen belonged to one of the Maesters. You had tried to request a Maester you were familiar. The request was denied. Instead you were hustled into a hold damp room with no natural light to be examined by a strange man you did not know. All but two of the Septas left. It was just you, two Septas and the Maester. You did not recognize this rigid, weasely looking man in front of you. "I will ask that you undress." The Maester ordered. You green dress was striped from you. When a Septas hands came to your neckline to undo the string your hands seized hers. "What are you doing?!" The Septas exchanged looks. You then realized that they now likely felt you were guilty. "A thorough examination will be needed My Lady. Now if you will." And the last layer of clothes were removed, flittering to the ground. You were bare in a room full of strangers, shaking with fear and chill. And the Maesters touched you. Your waist, stomach, thighs and breasts were all poked and prodded like cattle. Then he had you reclined onto a bed. Your legs were spread apart and the next thing was pain. As the skrew on the contraption inside your vagina was twisted you cried out. The Septas held your hands. He finally extracted the instrument and put it in a bowl. He wiped his hands and left the room. "Is it over now?" Tears were streaming down your face.

It did not take too long for the Maester to come in. Following him was the Dowager Queen, Princess Ellyn and Otto Hightower. "Well?" The Princess had her arms crossed, a supercilious twitch in her lips. The Maester looked and you and back to the group. Dread flared in your belly. What if the Maester was mistaken? Or he was paid off my Princess Ellyn. "The Lady Y/n is indeed a virgin." Dowager Queen Alicent grasped the star on her chest. Otto Hightower looked relived. Princess Ellyn looked angry. "And what has assured you of this?" Her voiced was shaking. "The Lady's hymen is perfectly in tact." You were dizzy with relief, sinking back onto the bed. You closed your eyes as for the first time you felt victorious.

The still felt a burn in between your legs. Elinor had pressed a warm, damp rag as you sat in a chair. You said nothing as she encouraged you to drink tea. You could not see her face, thick brown hair covering it. Her pale hands trembled with each move. Now that the relief had worn off all you felt was humiliation. They had subjected you to such an interrogation without a thought. And now there was fear for your future duties. You had always imagined sex to be an enjoyable sensation. In the dark of night you had imagined how it might feel. Once He had been the subject of these fantasies. But when that instrument had been forced up you it had ached and pained you. The memory of your walls being forced apart sickened you. "My Lady-" Elinor's advice was usually welcomed. But your anger was so great that a cold voice, quite unlike your own broke across the room. "Not now." Your hands tightened. Elinor fell silent.

Now that your virginity had been proven the marriage to Jason Lannister was to go ahead. Your apartments had been moved to a larger room. This one was higher up but provided no outlook on the water. Instead the balcony gave you a birds eye view of the city. Each time a dragon flew over you could see it. Sometimes you saw Prince Aemond leave, for Harrenhal where his base lay. The tapestries was beautiful with a green background and golden flowers embedded into its fine fabric. Your now had sheer curtains around the bed that fluttered with every breeze. These was far more luxurious than your old ones, but it made you no more happier. A blanket of misery had wrapped itself around your very being. Your old room was small but private, being made utterly your own. Now you could no longer go to the alcoves in private or sneak to the gardens.

That being said not all changes were unwelcome. It was one thing to mock and belittle Lady Y/n Tyrell. Quite another when it came the future Lady of Casterly Rock. While you still were in the service to the Princess things had changed. The first day you served after the new of your betrothal Princess Ellyn something had changed. You walked into her room dressed in a new dress, courtesy of the Dowager Queen. Rubies hung from your ears and instead of the typical yellow you wore, now because of your status you wore gold. When you walked in all of their attention was on you. Lady Cerilla gave you a withering look which you returned. They made way for you. Unlike the other times she did not meet your eyes. In her chair, once so proud, the Princess looked defeated. Her eyes had a red tinge to them and off colour skin. No one said anything to you. Although they politely curtsied to you. It was strange but a releif. As you walked through he halls they bowed and curtsied. No one dared to confront you. Cerilla's little friends were not even seen, having fled from your sight the moment they saw you.

As you tried to get settled into your new reality the war carried on. With the death of the Prince everything seemed to unravel. A hush had fallen over Kings Landing as it held its breath. Even the sun seemed to be hiding. Prince Aemond had headed for Harrenhal, the haughnted castle built by Harren the Black. The King spent his days in the council as his wife slowly slipped into madness. You had only visited her once, having fled from her presence afterwards. The maids had nervously opened to door upon your arrival. A hush fell over the room upon your entry. The three ladies who assisted the room in her bed stood back. That was when the smell hit you. A revolting mingle of blood and sweat permeated the air. Helaena was sprawled out on the bed. She only wore a thin nightgown, blood showing on some of it. "Her Grace is having her course." One of the tearful ladies answered your horrified expression. The other two were between looking like they might cry, and throw up. "Are you not going to help her?!" You walked forward but Helaena let out a heart wrenching wail. She convulsed on her bed and fingers tore at her long hair. You were rooted to the spot with terror. Then it feel into silence. The ladies broke apart hastily as Helaena sat up. Her purple eyes darted around the room. They settled on you. She slipped out of the bed. A trail of blood smeared onto the white sheets. Despite this, you reached out for her. Her hot hand held yours. Then with a sudden jerking motion she pulled you towards her. You put up a hand to stop the ladies who looked ready to call the guards. "Helaena?" Your hand touched her smooth skin. Helaena brought her other hand to your wrist. "When the blood flows you will retread your path." Then she fell.

"Is she well?" You had stayed outside of her room as Maesters tended to Helaena. Beside you was a distraught Dowager Queen Alicent. She was hunched over, a few strands of her hair let free. Her lips muttered words that you no longer felt connected to, at the symbol around her neck. Lady Lenita Lannister was by her side looking worn and tired. You supposed this was everyone's new reality. "Where is the King?" Questioned Lady Lenita. "He is currently preoccupied." Said the guard. Lady Lenita snorted but said nothing else. Most likely he was drowning himself in wine. Prince Jaecerion came around the corner. "What has happened?" Dowager Alicent practically threw herself into her sons arms. Suprised, but not unwelcoming to the gesture, Jaecerion held his mother. Seeing you, he looked spurised. "Y/n? Are you alright?" He looked ready to come to you, but his mothers weight held him down. "I am. It is your sister. She collapsed." "Oh Gods." He sighed and closed his eyes. The Maester came out, and upon seeing the Dowager Queen slumped in her sons arms had her brought away. Lady Lenita hurried after her mistress, leaving you and the Prince. "I've missed you." Jaecerion suddenly hugged you, a hand in your hair. With a sigh he leaned against you. "I have to." The odd gesture did not bother you. These days any form of comfort was greatly needed. You could smell his dragon on him and it reminded you of Prince Aemond. Tears, for what felt like the millionth time, invaded your eyes. Your sobs shook you body and Jaecerion took your face into his hands. "Oh Gods Y/n." He then placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed him to hold you there. He gently rocked you back and forth. "I hate this." It was not just Helaena's condition but everything from this past month. And there had been no one to talk to, no one to place your cares on. "I know." He hushed and pressed a kiss to your cheek. This only caused you to cry louder. You were so relieved there was someone there for you. While you had considered Prince Aemond a friend your relationship with Jaecerion had been different. You had cared for him and the two of you played together. Your world had always revolved around Prince Aemond that everyone else faded into the background. But he had always been there. Even when your attention was on Prince Aemond he had always cared for me. Jaecerion took you by the hand and took you away.

His room was slightly smaller than the rest of his siblings, with the exception of Daeron who was in Old Town. He said that there was no need to have a large one as not many people need visit him. He swept you inside and shut the door firmly behind him. The room was dark, only the fire glowing in the fireplace cast any light. The little jewels around Jaecerion's room glittered like cats eyes. You sat down on the armchair and gazed around. You had never actually been in Jaecerion's room before. Any time Jaecerion had asked Prince Aemond would forebay it. Jaecerion pulls out pulled out a bottle of wine and a goblet, pouring you a cup. "Arbour gold. Dornish." You remarked. You took another large gulp, having a fondness for Dornish wines. They had a sour aftertaste you had grown to like. Jaecerion watched you. "I'm scared." You took a final sip and then placed it down. "The war." Jaecerion sat in front of you, elbows on knees. "It is just....well everything has been so fast. There is going to be war and I am to be married." Jaecerion's hands clenched. But your emotions were so intoxicating that nothing else really mattered. The brief moment passed unnoticed by you. "And Aemond." He added. You looked down at the drink swirling about. "Yes. And him." Jaecerion leaned forward and held your fingers in a tight grip. "If it is any consolation I think it is my brothers loss. He's a fool for the Baratheon girl." You chuckled. It felt nice for someone to stand by you during this time. As Jaecerion brew closer you realized he had always been by your side. Quiet, but there. And there, after Prince Aemond had forsaken you here he was by your side. All those years and it was only now that you realized. You pulled Jaecerion closed to you. "I just want to thank you, for everything. You've always been there for me and I am forever grateful for it." You squeezed his hand. He smiled, the pupils in his eyes enlarged.

The two of you were so close. His breath could be felt on your face. He was close and getting closer. Your heart hammered in your chest. Was it possible? A cold wave invaded your belly when something occurred to you. It seemed so impossible but you could not mistaken his behavior right now. And then you realized you were in a room, alone, with a man who's eyes were wide and his cheeks a light pink. The little boy who use to follow you around and comfort you when Prince Aemond was not around possibly, no, very likely felt something more than friendly towards you. In another time you would. But right now with your world so shattered, you allowed yourself to be pulled alone the path your family had made. You stood up and quickly bayed your friend farewell, thoughts more confused than ever.

The day you set out was a grey one. A light wind had come down from the north. Perhaps winter would come soon. Normally you might go by ship. But since the Velarion fleet was on standby you would have to take the road. Leaving the Red Keep was harder than you thought. For so long you had wanted to go back to Highgarden and now that you were leaving this place, you did not want to. Perhaps you were attached to its place with all its memories. Yet those memories did not make you entirely happy, even the joyful ones. Most of them included Prince Aemond and now held a sour note to them. Maybe now you could let go of your fear and anger, starting a new life. Maybe you would like it there. As Lady of the castle you might be able to make it your own.

The ladies of both Dowager Queen Alicent, Queen Helaena and Princess Ellyn had come for your send off as was custom in the court. You coolly walked past most of them, they had made their stance long ago. Dowager Queen Alicent, surprisingly enough, hugged you gently. "Take care, Y/n." In all your years the Dowager Queen had always been the epitome of propriety. While never cruel she was not one for common shows of affection. As the two of you broke apart you noticed her deep brown eyes held a world of misery, trapped in the body of this woman. "You two." No one could hear but her. And for a moment she looked startled, then understood. Helaena would have greeted you had her condition permitted it. But alas she was still in bed. You prayed to any God out there she might be alright. Princess Ellyn Baratheon stood rigidly in front of you. Ever since the examination she had not talked to you. This may be the last time either of you saw each other and it brought you relief as well as anger. If this was the last time then you wanted her to know how you felt. You prayed she had no peace for the rest of her days, that another may come and set her heart in a pitch of misery. So you made to look as if you were embracing. But your hands gripped her hands in an unloving embrace. "I pray that you never know peace. And do not think the Prince will forget about me." It ached to know that Prince Aemond had likely cast off any affection he might have possessed for you. But Princess Ellyn did not need to know that. You prayed that even with you gone she would never know a days peace.

You turned your back on the court and ascended the stairs. Clad in red already you looked every bit the Lannister you would become. Elinor and your three new ladies Alana Lannister, Tilla Tarley and Mary Westerling following suit. Quietly all you sat and wondered what the future would bring. Even though Lady Alana and Mary were from the west it had been years, being fostered at Harrenhal. For Lady Tilla this place would be just as strange for her as it was for you. All of you were stepping into a new land with blindfolds on. Lady Tilla gave you an apprehensive smile as Lady Alana sadly stared out of the window. Sitting between Elinor and your dog, you remained seated. The carriage jolted and then loved forward. Remaining seated you suddenly felt Prince Aemonds loss more clearly than ever. Even at your lowest there was always the possibility he might return to you. But that time had passed and you felt his loss. Elinor took your hand in hers. A burst of cold wind came in. Yet as you shivered no one else seemed bothered. Having the sudden urge to get up, you walked to the window and peered out. You thought of the Weirwood tree with its branches reaching towards you. Imagining its comforting presence you had the bazar desire to jump out and go back. "My Lady?" Lady Alana looked at you curiously. Forlornly, you sat back down. Your thoughts lingered on the tree long after.

Note:

So the plot really kicks off. The reader is heading to Casterly Rock. I know Jason Lannister isn't very popular (for very good reason he ain't my fav either) but there is a point to it. I did not chose Cregan Stark because I don't think Cregan would turn his back on Rhaenyra even if the Greens had a bride to offer. Also Jason Lannister does have a wife in the story. For the sake of this story Jason and his wife had their three daughters (canon) and then dies before having their son. I'm also aware that a woman having a broken hymen is not a sure way to know if someone is a virgin but for the sake of plotline I will use it.

I want to thank everyone who has supported my work! It means a lot. I am happy to answer any questions to the best of my ability.

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem reader #amond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #Loyalty #aemond targaryen x reader angst #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst #hotd angst #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader

[idontknowreallywhy]

2 - Absence

Ok ok ok so I can explain.

So what happened was @lenfantdeverone wrote THIS which accosted me early in the morning and I accidentally wrote THIS and then I sort of incorporated that history into a Scott inner monologue in a chapter of Estera which then made me think “well, what actually did happen with Virgil?” which prompted THIS which made people tell me to make sure I fixed the Virg which I absolutely intended to do when I sat down on the train today but it all got a bit complicated and I ended up making it worse.

In summary, this is absolutely @lenfantdeverone’s fault and not in any way mine. I write fluff. FLUFF I tell you.

However I do *definitely* have a plan for making him better, I promise. Just… not today.

Is part of the whole Scott is MIA presumed KIA in Bereznik period. Trigger warnings for that plus mental health and hospital stuff… if that’s going to be difficult for you, handle with care.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Virgil kicked irritably at the scratchy soulless sheets and threw himself on to his other side with a quiet growl. Now the unfamiliar dark had a blurry glow of something-or-other in it… he frowned, trying to force his synapses to push through the cloying effects of the sedatives and process what it was. Oh. The lcd display of the tiny clock on the bedside unit gleamed at him. But his eyes were too out of focus to read the time… or were they? He squinted. No… His glass had been removed again and replaced with the hated translucent plastic tumbler that made water taste like it had been drawn from a long abandoned watering can. It was blocking the numbers and now he knew that, it irritated him. He reached out to nudge it to one side but the clumsy half-numb bunch of sausages that had replaced his once dexterous hand swiped it to the floor with a clatter.

He closed his eyes in defeat as a nurse came running and swept away his mumbled apologies with a constant monologue of reassurance. She checked his vitals and he flinched at the stench of antiseptic that surrounded her like a cloud, the cold dead touch of gloved fingers. Everything smelled so cold. There was no song here, not even the comforting background hum of familiarity of home. Just a constant clashing chord of harsh, sterile emptiness.

The nurse finally left with a promise of returning with more of the cursed meds which made him drowsy and incapable of coherent thought but couldn’t take away the ache of loneliness and the sense that he’d lost the better part of his soul.

This was his own fault of course. Barely three months of trying to hold the mantle of big brothering and it had all proved too much. He couldn’t keep the promise. He hadn’t even meant it when he made it because the words Scott had said as he left were just what people in the military always said before they left home. Leave nothing unspoken, make sure they can go on without you. Nobody really MEANT any of it…

He hadn’t believed for a second that he had needed to mean it, that he would step into his brother’s enormous, if technically a size smaller, shoes. Virgil had tried, he’d tried so hard but he’d lost his way. He couldn’t be Scott and he didn’t want to be Virgil anymore because he couldn’t see how there could even be a Virgil without a Scott.

What was the earth without the sky?

He closed his eyes and tried to let himself drift into blessed oblivion but his eyes stung and he found he couldn’t ignore them. He dragged his face over the already damp pillow, trying to wipe away the tears but too many more came.

Cold hands again, brushing the hair from his face and rolling him over. He didn’t want to roll over. They didn’t care. His face was wiped gently with a cheap towel that smelled of too strong soap and he wanted to fight and run away but his limbs were like lead. He wanted to run away and find Scott but nobody would let him follow his brother. He’d always followed his Scotty, ever since he could crawl and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like an exploded plane come between them.

He was dimly aware that saying things like that was perhaps related to why he was imprisoned here and clenched his mouth closed so the words wouldn’t come out and make them increase his sentence. He smiled his most charming smile at the nurse and told her he was fine and Scott grinned his way more charming grin and told him off for stealing his catchphrase.

She squeezed his jaw gently and put the capsule on his tongue. Scotty winked at him. He sipped the water and swallowed obediently. Then closed his eyes and rested his head back on the new, dry but equally hollow smelling pillowcase and tried to look relaxed. There was a discussion at the doorway and it was pulled softly to, but not closed. Easier for them to sneak in and out he presumed.

Slowly, activating every last mental faculty he had, he eased the tablet from between his back right molars with the tip of his tongue and spat it into the palm of his hand. Scotty grinned again and threw it away for him. Together they were going to get out of here.

He just needed to wait.

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Next bit

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Tw: grief #Tw: pow #Tw: mental health #Tw: hospitalisation (involuntary) #Presence fic

[essaysbyciara]

covetous.

peace. high-key smut thoughts. could've put this on the burner but oh-to-the-well. we're all adults, right? i had to get this shit off. likes, reblogs and comments are totally cool with me. 💗

I went looking for you. You have no idea how good you did me. 

Life was in shambles. Hanging on by the threads of my nerve endings, feeling hopeless. Helpless. Under duress when I fell under your spell. You mapped out an escape route if only for a short time. The demons and ghouls of my depression weaved through the trees of my wilderness, chasing me. Nothing felt good. The future wasn’t good. Nothing about me seemed good. 

But you made me feel good. 

I melted just by the thoughts of your perceived touch. The feeling between my thighs numbed the pain of my terrible decision-making. The pulsating rings of the lust flying away from me were visible to the point of recollection. You wrote about me. Wrote about me fucking you and you returning the favor. I wrote about fucking you too. Couldn’t keep my hands off of me. Blacking out to forget where I was and how I didn’t think I’d make it out alive. Drifting off to sleep in between the fireworks. 

I’m cool about it now. Cool about the bumps and bolts and buzzes necessary with keeping the peace. You met me when I still carried shame about feeling good for the sake of it all. Trailing behind the guilt of allowing my body its release. Felt possessed by you. Felt you leave my body only to taunt me into letting you back in. With doe eyes. With purpose. The purpose of turning me inside out. But I loved that shit. Loved how I would wait for your words to find my universe so I could give myself an excuse to lose all control. All I needed was an excuse. 

Then the wolves caught up to me and devoured me. 

I ran away from it all. Disappeared. I want to believe that the Holy Spirit got to me. Chin-checked me for trusting the orgasms rocking my hips to make me whole more than Her. That’s happened more than once in my life – or rather this new one. So I backed out before I could fall deeper into your well. I wanted to live there for the rest of my days. So damn bad. But then I know you would have ruined me. We were giving each other what we both wanted. It wasn’t that deep. 

I don’t want to give you any kind of prestige. Admittedly, I’m running ragged within the four walls of my own celibacy. I can be my own worst enemy. The blinking apparatus to the left of me, powering up to its full potential, is tired of being my only exception to the rule. I sit out of the festivities because I’m not ready to show up to the party and there is no one who wants to dance with me. Or they use me for tricks and favors. 

This time has taught me how to trick on myself. 

So maybe I’m tricking my mind into thinking I can wade into the waters of you and not be swept away. I drowned and had forces other than me reach out to save me. Spirit eclipses the flesh. 

But I miss the shit out of those two weeks and how you made me feel. My flesh is willing to wade back into a sea of despair in order for you to save me. So damn dangerous. Make me cum and come save me.

#i write sometimes #i'm an essayist on the other side of the internet #whew. we're going to be alright. #i'm just in a mood. #Spotify

[marshmallowprotection]

Its an honest to god tragedy that cg of Saeray is tied to one of his most heartbreaking bad ends bc real talk? Easily my favorite look on him. The light pink waistcoat and pants, the black rose, buttons, and glove details, the swept bangs? God tier.

Actually if you let him undo the collar on that shirt and move the rose corsage (The shirt collar is tight with the rose right at his neck, because he's trapped all over again. Clever, Cheritz. Heartwrenching, but clever) I can imagine it being a formal outfit he wears to future RFA fundraisers?

Or maybe im just desperate to have this outfit in a positive light bc im weak for light colored suits lmao

This is one the worst endings you can give Saeran Choi. Why? Because unlike in Ray Route when you team up with Rika to create a Puppet Savior, you're well aware of what Saeran wants and needs after a long two months and some change of knowing him and loving him as a free man. Yet, you throw his life and needs out the window the second Rika offers a reality where you're not separated from Saeran and he gets to live with you. You don't care about what he wants in this timeline. You care about what you want and the easiest way to get it.

You go and subjugate him to a living hell as a love puppet since you know he'll do whatever you think is right even if it's wrong for him. The worst part in all that? Saeran will burn and suffer for you if this is what makes you happy. He's dead inside. That's the reason why there is a black rose on his collar. It is a significant mark of death. He is dead inside and will only live to please you. He's not happy and he won't ever be happy in this timeline.

He is, for all intents and purposes, dead and numb to what's happening to him... for the sake of giving you what you want.

You trade what he wants away for a fantasy life Rika sold you and the worst part about that is you knew him so deeply and truly and that didn't even matter anymore. That's what makes this worse to me. You didn't know him that well when it came to the path you can take to make him the False Savior. You had no idea of what life he wanted apart from the mess you heard from Ray and Suit Saeran's lips. But, this path right here?

You knew him and you damned him to this horrible fate despite everything he dreamed of. You helped remove the chains from his throat in Magenta only to put them back on in V's mountainside villa.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #choi saeran #mm #saeran after ending #saeranafterending #after ending #yes this ending is worse for me than the one where he wades into the lake to end himself #and the ending where you flee the country and doom the rfa

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Whump Drabble

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Sam woke up half sprawled across a dank, cold floor, hands chained to the concrete wall above his head, shackles already cutting into his wrists, stinging and sticky with drying blood.

The rest of the room was dark and hard to pull into focus. He tried to blink but only one of his eyes would even open. Well, that at least shed some light on why that side of his face felt weirdly numb and prickly warm, it was swollen tight. His knees were scrapped up pretty bad, jeans torn and bloody. He shifted, testing, and pain radiated through his side from his lower ribs, not good, felt like something had cracked. There was blood in his mouth and a couple of his teeth felt a bit loose. But all of his fingers wiggled and both feet flexed when he tried them, nothing dislocated and nothing outside of his torso seemed broken. 

Taking a breath to steady himself, he grabbed the chains above him and pulled, they held fast. So he pulled again and pushed himself up with his legs. Everything hurt, he was going to be one giant bruise if he made it until tomorrow.

He’d fucked up, big time, he knew. He’d stormed off, muttering curses of being able to take care of himself over his shoulder on his way out the door and within 10 short hours had gotten himself fucking captured. Dean was going to explode and he was never going to hear the end of it… If he was lucky enough to ever hear Dean say anything to him again. If he was, then he would find a way to be grateful to get chewed out and teased for the rest of forever. 

He just had to get out of this.

Standing and facing the wall he examined, as well as he could through one eye, the shackles holding him. They were snug, no way he’d be able to slip them, even if he dislocated his thumbs. Shit. The chain itself was solid and shiny, no more than a couple years old. The chains were attached to a ring that was bolted into the wall, the concrete chipped and powdery, seemed the weakest point. He grabbed the chain with both hands and bracing one foot against the wall, pulled hard. Fire ignited in his side, definitely a broken rib, and he pressed his arm against that side, trying to brace it while he pulled again. The pain doubled him over, panting for breath, afraid to breathe too deeply. 

He thought about it while waiting for the pain to ebb back, willing his heart rate to slow down. He switched legs and shifted his stance, aiming for a better angle to brace against the wall without immediately tensing the wrong muscle groups, and pulled again. No give. He dropped his leg and sagged to the side, leaning against the wall on his less injured side. Maybe he could use the edge of the shackles to chip away around the ring? 

While he was catching his breath and trying to determine how to hit the wall with a protruding part of the tight metal cuffs, a loud bang from somewhere off in the building above him made him flinch. Looking around, he still couldn’t see much, it was too dark and his head was swimming with more than just labored breathing and exertion. Great, he thought and added head trauma to his catalog of injuries. But beyond the immediate stretch of wall here, he couldn’t make out any other details of the room he was in, just darkness lurking all around. 

Another bang, this one louder than the previous, a gunshot… shotgun seemed most likely. Sam listened. Faint noises from far off, footsteps then scuffling, another blast from the shotgun (he was sure of the sound now).

“Dea…” He had already forgotten about his ribs and the pain from filling his lungs to shout hit him by surprise. 

A splintering crash shook the air and light spilled in from across the room.

“Dean?” he managed to say, not nearly as loudly as he’d intended.

“Sam!” and a beam of light swept the room.

The relief that flooded him dropped him to his knees. Scraped raw already they complained but he was beyond caring. Dean had found him.

“Over here.” 

Light blinded him. Footsteps, heavy and sure, closed the distance between them.

“Sammy? Jesus, Sam.” His concern hit like a punch to Sam’s gut.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

“Hey? Look at me.” The flashlight shone in his face as Dean’s hand lifted his chin. Sam knew he was being checked over, tried to keep his eye open, but the light was so bright, his head suddenly pounding. Then Dean was checking the rest of him, hands patting him down, looking for and taking stock of wounds, finding the chains and following them to the wall. Dean tucked his sawed off under his arm and reached behind himself, pulling out his handgun. “Watch out.”

Sam closed his eye and turned away. The gunshot sharply echoing in the cavernous room, making his ears ring.

“Son of a bitch. One more.” and another shot split Sam’s headache to a whole new level of horribleness. A rattling yank on the chains, “Come on!” Dean grunted as he pulled, swearing under his breath.

Sam’s legs were threatening to turn to jelly but he was able to get them under him and pushed back up. He gripped the chains too and added his weight to pulling, ignoring the sickening, crunchy grind in his ribcage.

“That’s it, come on, little more!” 

The metal ring twisted, broken ends where Dean had shot it, pried slowly apart until Dean stopped pulling. “Got it! Relax, Sammy.”

Sam slumped against the wall as Dean freed the chain from the wall. Then the light was back on him briefly.

“You okay?”

“Couple of broken ribs, left side. Probably a concussion.” Sam’s stomach gave a violent lurch which he swallowed down. “Definitely a concussion.”

“Ok, that’s ok. We can deal with that. Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” Sam stood up and took a step away from the wall only to get caught by Dean as gravity shifted sideways suddenly.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy.”

A floodgate seemed to open inside him, tears welled up in his good eye, stung like a bitch in his other. His legs started to give out again. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I should’ve listened to you.”

“No shit, dumbass.” But there was no venom in the words and Dean’s arms were around him, keeping him from falling, and he gave a gentle pat to the back of Sam’s head as he hugged him. “I’m just glad you’re ok. Now come on, don’t make me carry your gargantuan ass outta here. Here we go.” And he shifted so Sam’s arm was over his shoulders as he turned them both towards the door.

#trying to write more so since the prompt actually prompted an idea I went with it #sam whump #spn drabble #sam winchester #it might be whump but Sam is still a fucking beast #dean winchester #I ran into technical difficulties trying to reblog the original post so added a screencap of the prompt instead #studyofwhump #whump prompt 254

[dameronscopilot]

forget me (please)

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader a/n: just a very sad, depressing little drabble about being in love with a hot desert wizard/fugitive.

“Ben, please don’t do this.” 

Your voice breaks as you choke out the plea. As if in response to the broken desperation in your words, the hand resting gently against the side of your face begins to tremble, and the man standing in front of you inhales sharply. You roughly wipe at the hot tears that have begun to make their way down your cheeks, and you feel Ben feebly try to swipe them away with his thumb.

“It’s the only way to guarantee you’ll be safe,” he responds, unable to mask the shuddering anguish burning a hole through the comforting lilt of his voice. Drawn to him as you always were, you make the terrible mistake of shifting your gaze, which had been resolutely focused on an otherwise unremarkable spot on the wall over his left shoulder. When your eyes meet his, your resolve crumples to ash. 

He’d warned you time and time again that a day like today would eventually come, made you promise that you’d let him go if it did. Ben had far too many enemies as a rogue Jedi in hiding, and despite the quiet, blissful years of contentment you had carved out together, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time had finally run out. Anakin Skywalker was alive, and Ben would die by his own hand before putting you at risk. Memory rubbing with the Force was the only option now, because you both knew well enough that you’d follow him to the ends of the galaxy without a second thought—you’d said it yourself time and time again. 

But now, as you take in his grief-stricken expression, panic begins to rise in your chest at the thought of forgetting the soft, tender gaze that Ben reserves solely for you. Your heart aches as you realize that you’ll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of the feeling of the pleasant scratch of his beard against your chin when his lips meet yours. You ball your hands in the fraying edges of his tunic, as if you could keep him there by sheer will alone. As if holding on to him will anchor you and save you from the terrifying sensation of being swept out to sea that’s coursing through your veins.

Ben laces his fingers with yours. A single tear slips down his cheek, and your world shatters. You give up on holding the rest of your tears at bay, and your chest burns as you nod and quietly say, “Okay.” 

Ben brings his hands up to cup your face, and you close your eyes when you feel the warm caress of his lips on both of your cheeks. “There never was and never will be anything more precious to me in this galaxy than you and our time spent together,” he breathes out quietly, his steady voice threatening to collapse under the sob building up in the back of his throat. He continues, “I will always be with you,” and places his hand over your heart.

You bring a hand up to thread your fingers through his hair, and he visibly relaxes, leaning into your touch. Ben slowly takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth, tracing a small circle inside of it with his thumb as he presses a kiss to the base of your palm. He lowers your hand and leans his forehead against yours, taking a shuddering breath as he slowly runs a thumb over your bottom lip. 

Shivering, you whisper, “Ben,” and he surges forward, capturing your lips with his. His mouth desperately slides against yours, and you ardently respond in kind. He brings one hand down to curl protectively around your hip as he places the fingers of his other against your left temple. You begin to taste salt in the warmth of his kiss, and you can feel Ben’s hands shaking…and then everything dissolves into a strange sensation of numbness. 

When you open your eyes again, you’re alone. 

#obi-wan kenobi #ben kenobi #kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #kenobi x reader #star wars

[reveseke]

How's it hanging there?

PT. How's it hanging there? PT end

Image ID. A medium sized banner made of a picture featuring 5 arcade game machines colored mainly in purple in a tilted position lined up against a wall, there is a small glimpse of mat in the far right corner of a simple 90s star arcade design with varying colors. The first machine has visible text that reads "gauntlet legends", no other text is visible. Image ID end.

-Request? No

-Criminal minds; Spiderverse au

Masc! Reader, Noel, Aaron Hotchner

Key info : Takes place after the getting caught by dad & the humans who have powers are a minority in the world, tech enchanted powers are a thing and sought after as well.

Heed the warnings : he him used, Stuck by the ankle, wire wrapped around ankle, mentions of blood & injury, possible descriptions of near fainting, tangling over 430~ ft in the air, Noel's hinted to be in deep shit & dragged R into it, Noel abandons R briefly but comes back.

Other info : R can produce minimal webbing over few weeks, but usually rubs it into the wires he actually uses to assist himself so they stick better to surfaces. Oh yeah inaccurate description of pain; the reader is hinted to be a little dazed and not focused on it so minimal description and most likely a bit inaccurate. Hotch has knowledge of what R's actually doing and doesn't discourse him from doing it bc Aaron knows R will do it either way but they share bits of " inside " information from both sides so they know pretty much what the other is doing and what the deeper focus of it may be lmao. [ No actual scenes with Aaron, he's only written in the calls bc my motivation is a bit shit rn with this lol ]

Prompt/idea: Imagine getting stuck in your own webs while chasing a bad guy down as you have to answer a call from your father?

This... Wasn't supposed to happen.

Huffing as his back bumped into the window wall behind rather heavily, a thud that travaled through the glass shaking it lightly. Cringing slightly from the pain that swelled from his ankle, how it felt like it had sprained. In reality it was just the wire rope digging into his skin, building pressure as it tightened by the boy's weight.

To his fortune there was no-one inside the apartment or rather the room the window belonged to.

" ( naaaammeeee ) — where did you go? " A bored whine left Noel as they looked over her shoulder while slowing down to a stop as she couldn't hear him behind anymore, realising that R was not actually with them at all anymore. Looking back against the bad guy just booking it over the rooftops it was a moment of split thinking if she would need to go back for the boy or not. But the bad guy had stolen tech with him.. oh they would absolutely kill her if she let the bad guy go. A.. he can manage. If he hasn't fallen off that is.

The sound of feet tapping against the rooftops was getting father away as R brought himself up a little tangling from the wire that was practically wrapped around his ankle. The pressure made itself known as the wire started to pierce the skin lightly, even more pressure and it absolutely would go in. Letting his body droop a little feeling a light tug on the wire which he could only assume not go be Noel, the numbness spreading along as he called out. Or rather yelled.

" NOEEEELLLL "

Not exactly knowing that the said person had already caught up with the tech thief and clocked him into the head. The question was is she coming back?

The air was pure to breath though, it didn't smell like the road or the gasses from the passing cars. The darkness of the night wrapped around his body as a rather strong breeze which absolutely would have been something lighter were he by the ground swept by R. Wrapping clove clad hands around his upper torso, feeling the skin tight wooly turtleneck underneath be a little help to keep him warm.

This wasn't how he wanted to spent his night.

Tangling over a busy traffic— which by the hour was still something to be amazed of, huh a city that never sleeps, eh? –on a Sunday night.. wait it's monday by now, it has to be? Checking his watch briefly he realised it was over past one at this point.

R would not have been so calm on the situation if it hadn't happened twice before already. He knew what to do and it was rather simple, but he did come loose on the main part of the plan of getting out of his situation. As much as the glass was there behind him, his spines didn't exactly stick on glass. It sounds rather stupid, jumping spiders were delicate enough spiders to climb glass after all! But R has yet to master the art of climbing especially in a situation where he sweats from being stressed out. It's just so much more difficult to do so with clammed up hands, he wouldn:t get a good grip and risk falling to his death!

To be honest It felt nice actually, just looking at the numerous dots of lights and how lively the new York was. Truly amaizing.

Mm.. mm.. mm.. mm.. mm.. mm..

Not a good time R groaned as he shuffled around a little teeth grinding at the feeling of the wire slowly, feeling the soreness of his legs and the numbness spreading in his ankle, the pricks and needles intensifying as he tried to find a around a way to get his phone from the closed back pocket. Warmth swept over his shoulders, a nice wave as he finally caught the phone fearing it would drop.

Dad.. he read the contact name and debated.

" hey, dad.. " sounding a little unsure as he answered, the phone pressed to his ear as he spoke.

" hey (name).. i just got home, where are you? " The voice over the other side sounded as stiff and monotonous as ever. It rarely sounded anything other.

Finding it hard to find words he hummed lightly as he looked around. Realising that the blood rushing to his head was what made the warmth spread in waves around him. " Uh.. I'm.. with Noel. We were studying for a test and i needed her help to understand a ... "

He was a bad liar oh he knew it and he knew he was going to have big problem at hand when going home. Lightly biting his tongue as he heard a heavy sigh from the other side of the phone before being able to finish his sentence.

" (name) if this is about the powered tech that was reporter missing, you don't need to lie to me. "

" you know about that? " He kinda deadpanned at that, still the voice grew lighter as he ended up gritting his teeth and pulling himself upwards by the wire. He observed the wound seeing the red angry lines and the blood that had stained his pants. How did he manage to get caught by the start of his ankle just by the pant of the leg anyways?

" yes. We were informed of it. " It wasn't probably accepted to slip information out to the public since the tech thief had never gone public, at least not yet. But even Aaron knew that he could speak of some government concerns to R, especially concerning powered people since the boy was practically running after these same kind of people. The man had no true fear over his son, having seen him in many feats against powered people and letting the police handle the non-powered. He knew the boy could handle himself and if needed would come seeking help and advice. " Are you with Noel ? "

" i was.. until she kinda ran off on me. I hope they're coming back anytime soon, I'm loosing any kind of sense in my foot. "

" ... What? "

" oh yeah, i got caught in my own wires. " Slipping the phone against his cheek and shoulder as he finally took a moment to think if he could pull himself up. " To say that it isn't the most comfortablest position by far I'dn't even be exacerbating ! This shit hurts. "

" you don't sound that hurt, (name) where are you at the moment? " The phone almost slipping past him the boy barely catching it as he heard rapid echoing steps coming towards him.

" Ah there they are! " Finding it all quite amusing R started to ramble to his father as Noel poked their head over the ledge with what looked like a shit eating grin to him. " Also yeah no, i .. i mean it stings but it doesn't really hurt y'know? I have no feeling in my foot right now, everything's just prick and needles. "

" there you are! " She chimed down, a grin on their face as she looked down upon his friend. " How's it hanging there? Fun? "

" Not by the slightest, help me up dumbass ! " The boy coughted as he held a hand towards the ledge. To their fortune the wire only went about 3 feet down and he could drag himself up for her to take his hand and pull.

" (nam– " " I'll be home in about two hours dad, don't worry ! " Literally hanging up on the man as he almost managed to let the phone slip while putting it back to his back pocket.

" oofs ? " Noel laughed at that, as they watched R struggle to lift himself up by the wire so she could reach him. Finally pulling him up she nooted him a little. " You should have called me, i didn't know you were literally hanging around here. But oh well–" she shrugged as R landed with a little hiss on the roof of the skyscraper, lightly nodding towards the two quite heavy looking bags, "—i caught up with the thief and got the tech back !"

" great, nice job. What happened to the thief ? " R questioned lowering himself down as he untangled and freed his ankle from its brief restraint. Hissing lightly as he straightened the bended leg and watched the blood seep through and paint the spot underneath.

" oh.. you don't need to worry about him. We already have what we came for after all. I'll help you get home, does it hurt? " A grin spread on Noel's face even if they had covered the lower part of her face to conceal it. They always had expressive eyes after all.

#male reader #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x male reader #dad!hotch #son!reader #masc!reader #criminal minds x male reader #kinda wanna do a part two to this one that actually focuses on the Hotchners lol #🔮.oneshot #🔮.series.🎡🕸️ #🔮.masc reader